Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
Collin is shaking his head. “I bet it’s a conflict or something.”
I scoff. “How do you know?”
“Mock trial, remember?”
I want to laugh at him. “I thought you were in Model UN and young professionals of America.”
“I was in Model UN. Left after your brother graduated. He’s the only reason I joined to begin with.”
I forgot about that. “I thought your idolizing days ended in seventh grade.” Whoever could worship the cunning mind of Gavin Prescott has to be disturbed.
It was actually very disturbing when all Collin could talk about was my brother throughout sixth grade.
I think that’s one of the reasons I started hanging out with girls more at school.
“I don’t idolize him. He’s just a badass debater, and we always won when he was on our team.
” He still idolizes him, I can tell. Collin would follow my brother around and take notes on his strategies for gaining the upper hand in any situation if he could.
I know he has big aspirations, but he definitely needs a better role model.
“Whatever. So, you’re saying, with all of your mock trial experience, that my dad can’t legally intervene?”
“Ask your brother. Maybe he’ll know.”
“I try not to talk to my brother if I can help it.”
“You know he loves showing off his Columbia education. Just don’t tell him it’s for Jonathan. Find a way to make it sound like you’re asking about Danika.”
I consider this. I really don’t want to have this conversation, but he may be my best resource, and I can’t rely on Collin and Jonathan’s deal to be the only option. “Maybe. He’s supposed to be home tomorrow after his last final.”
“Are you going to Darren’s half-day party tomorrow? Guess his parents already left for Florida.”
I look at him like he just asked if I eat cereal with a fork. “Why would I do that?”
“Because… I’m asking you to.”
“Is Jonathan going to be there… with Livvy?” I swear I vomit in my mouth, just saying it.
“I told you, they’re not anything.”
“Tell that to Livvy.”
Her first words to me when she saw me in school the Monday after the bonfire were, “You never made sense.”
And her response when I bit back, “And you do?” was to laugh and walk away, dismissing me with a finger wave.
I haven’t seen them together. Because I refuse to be anywhere Jonathan is. And the rumors haven’t found me. Especially with everyone talking about Oren and Danika. She’s not returning to school until after holiday break, which hasn’t stopped the absurd speculation about who’s really at fault.
“Why do you want to go to Darren’s party?” I don’t know why I’m even considering it.
“Because it’s a party, and he said something about Jell-O wrestling in his basement.”
“And you believe him?”
“Darren’s crazy enough to do it.”
True. He’s one of those guys who doesn’t back down from a dare. No matter how asinine or dangerous.
“Why not go with Jonathan?”
“Wednesdays and Thursdays are your days, according to the custody agreement.”
I laugh. Then nearly cry.
“Hey. Don’t do that. You’ll get tears all over your gingerbread dudes.”
“Sorry. I just hate this.” I sigh. I’ve been trying not to be miserable. But I am. I miss us, the three of us. But I can’t get the image of Jonathan with that fricken lollipop in his mouth out of my head. What the actual hell?
“You can talk to him.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Forgot. Talking is our thing. You feel with him.”
“Who told you that?”
“You did.”
I consider this. I don’t think we’ve ever had this conversation. “I told Danika that, not you.”
“Probably told me too.”
I can’t remember, so I don’t argue. He can practically read my thoughts, so it is possible.
“And since you don’t know how you feel about him, you have to stick to the agreement.”
“Why are you saying it like that, like feelings are stupid?”
He cocks an eyebrow like the question answers itself.
I cannot believe I’m about to say this. “Fine. I’ll go. But I don’t want to drive.”
“You’re going to drink?” Collin asks in surprise. I almost never drink. And when I do, it’s usually one. I don’t like feeling buzzed. Definitely never been drunk.
I shrug in reply.
How many is that?” Collin asks me, eyeing the bottle in my hand. The party swirls around us, loud and chaotic.
I’ve lost track.
Jonathan is here. And I started feeling again.
Instead of talking to him, I picked up a bottle of some fruity drink.
Besides, talking isn’t our thing, and whatever this is tastes good.
So, I got another. And I think one, maybe two more.
I can’t remember. But at least I’m not feeling anything right now.
Feelings are so stupid.
“Drinking to avoid emotions is such a cliché ’90s movie,” Collin comments like he’s disappointed in me.
“Molly would be proud of me,” I tell him, welcoming this numbing buzz.
“She’s from the ’80s. Get your movies straight. Have I taught you nothing?”
“Sorry,” I say, taking another swig. “What should we do?” I look around at the groups, not really wanting to engage with anyone other than Collin. Not even the card game at the kitchen table or beer pong in the dining room.
“They’re about to start the wrestling matches downstairs,” he says, wagging his eyebrows. “Maybe you should sign up. Better way to work through your drama than a bottle.”
“Okay.” Parties are pretty dumb, but whatever. I’m here. And I’ve always had a hard time saying no to Collin’s absurd ideas sober, so this is an easy yes.
“Are you serious?”
“Sure. Might as well. It’s a party, right?”
Collin laughs. “This is going to be epic.”
The first to enter the pool, and our only girls brave enough—”
“Or crazy enough,” someone hollers, and everyone laughs.
“What the hell am I wearing?” I ask Collin from behind the shower curtain, where he hands me clothes to change into for the match.
“His sister is thirteen. It’s the only thing available other than the bikini he originally offered.”
“My boobs are now nonexistent,” I say pulling at the Lycra sports bra suffocating me and squishing the very little I have. This is getting dumber by the second. “And please tell me these bike shorts are not Darren’s.”
“They’re his dad’s.”
“Gross!” I slide them on, and they sag around my hips.
“Dude, you’re going to be rolling around in Jell-O. Who cares?”
I roll the top of the shorts to make them snug. His dad isn’t a very big man, thankfully.
I’m braiding my hair when a fist pounds on the door. Cheers erupt from the basement.
I slide the curtain back in a dramatic reveal and flex my muscles. “Let’s do something stupid.”
“You’re mastering it.” Collin holds out a fist for me to tap. Then hands me a shot glass. “You’ll need this.”
I know I’m beyond any buzz I’ve ever had before, probably drunk. But if I’m leaving this bathroom, looking like a twelve-year-old tomboy, I’ll take it. My courage needs courage right now.
As soon as I exit the bathroom, I want to turn around and go back in.
Not because of the hollers, cheers and stupid, “Take it off!” comments.
It’s because the girl on the other side of the pool is Livvy.
And she’s wearing a cute turquoise sports bra that shows off her cleavage and matching booty shorts.
“This isn’t a pageant,” Collin counters when I groan. “It’s wrestling. So, put your mean face on and take her down.”
I lock eyes with her as Darren reviews the rules. Basically, there aren’t any. Anything goes. First to tip the other out of the thigh-high, inflatable kiddie pool, filled with who knows how many hundreds of Jell-O cups, wins.
I breathe in and out of my nose, working myself up, and size up Livvy.
She gives me a smirk like she’s already counting the cash.
“What will I win?” I ask Collin. Figure I should probably get something out of this.
“Bragging rights?” Collin answers, uncertain.
I notice someone taking cash for bets while another writes down names.
“You’d better have bet on me.”
“Of course I did.”
But then he disappears because he didn’t.
“Ladies, enter the pool.”
I step in. The pile of gelatin is cold against my skin and feels disgusting, squished between my toes.
“What are they doing?” I hear from somewhere in the distance. I almost look, always drawn to him.
But before I can seek out Jonathan, Darren yells, “Go!”
And Livvy charges for me.
Shit!
I duck and lift her legs out from under her.
I lose my balance, and we both land hard, the Jell-O doing nothing to soften my landing.
The scents of cherry, raspberry and lime invade my nose as I get a face full of Jell-O.
It’s deeper than I originally thought. I scramble to stand, sliding on my hands and knees on the plastic liner in this gelatinous fruit bowl.
There’s a collective groan, along with spikes of laughter.
“No filming!” someone yells. “Give me that, asshat.”
Livvy grabs hold of my braid and tilts my head back, yanking hard. She’s not gentle.
“You would be a hair puller,” I grunt out before punching her in the gut.
“Holy shit!” several exclaim.
I can’t believe I just did that. But it worked; she let go. “Sorry!” I yell.
She glares at me, clutching her stomach. “You’re so pathetic.”
“Feeling’s mutual.”
She wraps her arms around my knees just as I’m beginning to stand and yanks me back down. I topple onto my butt with a hard thud.
Before she can come at me again, I press my feet against her huge boobs and send her sliding to the opposite side.
“They’re ruthless!”
Livvy stands on her knees and lunges across the pool. I roll out of the way. But she’s quick and pounces onto my back like a fricken cat. She’s not trying to push me out of the pool—she’s trying to shove my face in the Jell-O, like the bullies in movies who torture kids over a toilet.
Two can play at that. I grab a fistful and press it into her face over my shoulder. There really isn’t much in my hand. Jell-O is impossible to pick up. So I’m basically squashing her nose. She automatically pulls her head back and sneezes, all over my palm. Disgusting.
She releases her hold of me enough so that I’m able to buck her off, tipping her backward over the edge of the pool.
The basement explodes with cheers or groans. I can’t decipher the noise. I’m over being their entertainment. This was stupider than stupid.
I slosh to the edge.
“I hate you.” Livvy stands outside the pool on the clear protective sheet. Her chest heaves with rage-filled breaths. “I hate you!” Is she crying? “I hate you!” she screams and charges at me like a crazed bull.
Holy shit!
A spike of fear or adrenaline has me bracing for her weight. Probably both.
I’m lifted out of the pool before Livvy reaches me. I lose sight of her. All I hear are groans and complaints. “Let the chicks fight!”
I struggle and kick at whoever has my arms pinned.
“Stop it,” Jonathan growls into my ear, carrying me through the crowd.
We’re in the bathroom. I’m still struggling. “Let me go!”
He steps into the shower and sets me on my feet. I shove him and send myself colliding with the shower wall because he doesn’t budge. “I don’t need—”
“Knock it off.” The shower is on; cool water’s pouring over me. I’m sputtering. Jonathan scans my face. “Are you drunk?”
I spit out water that tastes like Jell-O and glare up at him. I poke his hard chest. “I don’t need you rescuing me.”
He gets within an inch of my face, water dripping from his nose. His mouth. His chin. “I will always be the one rescuing you.”
I am seething through chattering teeth. Fire runs through me. And I’m tempted to punch him. I stare into the soul-wrenching darkness of his eyes. His stare is just as unwavering. He leans in.
The curtain yanks open. “What the hell are you doing?”
Jonathan steps back. I melt to the bottom of the tub. The adrenaline washes down the drain.
Collin turns the water off. “I’ve got her.”
“Doesn’t look like it,” Jonathan says, his tone accusing.
“What are you doing, man?”
“You tell me. What’s going on between you two?”
There’s silence. My face is buried in my knees. I don’t want to be here anymore.
Collin repeats, “I’ve. Got. Her.”
The door slams. My head is throbbing. The room is spinning.
“Did we get in a fight?”
“Don’t worry about him.” Collin wraps a towel around me.
“Not him. Livvy.” My stomach flips. I tip and grab on to the side of the tub.
“What’s happening right now?”
“I’m gonna… throw up.”
“Okay. That’s what’s happening.”
A trash bucket is set in front of me just in time. Everything I should never have drunk comes up.
Oh, wait. Not everything. I heave again.
What did you do to my sister?”
I blink my eyes open. The world is still sideways. I close them again.
“Nice, Humphreys. You got her drunk.” The door opens. “Jesus. She’s soaked. You’re a fricken idiot. It’s barely above freezing.”
“It’s a story.”
“Can’t wait for you to tell it to me.” Gavin groans. “C’mon, luggage. Let’s get you in before Mom and Dad get back.”
Words are too hard. I make some sort of noise. That’s all I got.
My brother lifts me, wrapped like a burrito in the blanket. The jostling makes me afraid I’ll throw up again. I groan and press my face into his sweater. “Don’t you dare puke on me.”
Warmth envelops me as soon as we enter the house. “Get a glass of water. And there’s aspirin in the cabinet to the right of the microwave.”
Stairs are miserable for me. Not so much for my brother—thanks to his vanity. “Sorry.” My words are a mumble.
“You’re going to be in the morning,” Gavin replies. “Is this your first time getting drunk?”
I moan a, “Yes.”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “If this is over Reeves, I’m going to kill him.”
I try to shake my head. But it makes my brain hurt.
Gavin sets me on the edge of the bed and forces me to sit up. I don’t want to sit.
“You can go to sleep after you take these.”
I blink my eyes open. Gavin is seated next to me, holding me upright. Collin hands me a glass of water and two white pills. I fumble for them and put them in my mouth, followed by several gulps of water.
“Finish it,” Gavin orders.
I do. Way too fast and set a hand on my swirling stomach.
“Puke in the basket by your bed if you have to.” The burrito blanket disappears. “What the hell is she wearing? Where’s her clothes?” Gavin lays me on my side and pulls the comforter over me.
“In the car.”
I snuggle into my bed beneath the warmth. My head fuzzy and sleep calling.
“This better be one hell of a story, or I may kill you too.”