41. Bailey
forty-one
Bailey
The next few days are filled with cleaning my apartment, and spending time with Peyton. The weekend came quickly and I’m beginning to dread having agreed to this whole thing.
Liam’s friend from school is throwing a party at his house and has invited a large portion of their class as well as any plus ones they want to bring. Peyton knows him as well and said he’s decent enough, but I’m still apprehensive.
I’ve met a few of Liam’s buddies over the last few years, all of them reasonably friendly but definitely no one I would want to know beyond a superficial level. There aren’t very many nerds-gone-attorney apparently. No doubt I’ll be the only one at that party trying to score a legendary Pikachu.
I grab my favorite skinny jeans and a vintage Johnny Cash shirt and lace my red Vans up at the door. Parkway Drive plays while I head to Peyton’s apartment. I pull through the gate and knock on her door.
She opens the door in her bathrobe, her cell to her ear, and motions for me to come in.
“Hey,” I say quietly as I slip in and find my favorite spot on the sectional. She disappears into her bedroom while I check my phone for any missed calls or texts.
Nat: I’ll meet you guys there! Can’t wait to see y’all! Tell Peyton I said thanks!
I like the message and then lock my phone screen. I hear Peyton rummaging around as she hangs up with whoever she had been talking to. I grab the remote from the coffee table and start flipping channels.
“Bailey?” she yells from somewhere in the back.
“Yeah?” I answer. I’m still channel surfing, only half listening.
“How much time do I have? When do we need to leave?” I can barely hear her over the TV.
“You’re fine. We can leave anytime between now and eight,” I yell back, distracted by an episode of Deadliest Catch.
The waves are high, whipping the boat like it owes them money.
The crew is preparing for worsening weather, shouting orders above the sound of the rain and wind.
These guys are fucking insane. No way in hell I’d be caught dead out there.
The Bering Sea is notorious for its unforgiving storms. I shudder at the thought.
I can’t even imagine being on a cruise ship.
Stuck on a floating germ-mobile for days on end?
Fuck. That. I’ve seen the show about the cruise ship that had a viral outbreak, and everyone had explosive diarrhea and no working toilets.
It’s literally a sailing Petri dish. Absolutely the fuck not.
I turn the volume down as we pull into the driveway of the ridiculously large modern home. “What the fuck do his parents do for a living?” I ask Peyton in disbelief.
“Only fans?” she replies. I laugh at that and shake my head.
“Jesus Christ. I’m impressed and maybe a little worried that I’m underdressed.” My cheeks heat with embarrassment.
“No babe, you look fine. Don’t worry about it. Kyle is pretty laid back for a nepo baby,” she says, placing her hand in mine.
“Nat asked us to wait for her. She said she’s only a few minutes out and doesn’t want to walk into the cesspool alone,” I say, head spinning with thoughts of awkward conversations and forced smiles.
“Can’t say I blame her. I’m pretty sure Liam is the only person here besides us that she knows. I’m excited to introduce her to Kyle, though. I really think they’ll hit it off,” Peyton says, a warm smile on her face.
“If he’s a complete tool then yeah, they just might.
I swear her picker is broken and has been since middle school.
She has some kind of Bat Signal that summons all the fuckboys disguised as decent humans.
I really don’t understand the phenomenon, but it’s never-ending.
” It’s true and it has baffled me for years.
It’s as if these bastards see her as an easy target.
Maybe now it’s more about securing an ATM with her being in medical school but she is serially inundated with mouth-breathers.
I still find myself hoping that against all odds she and Liam will somehow work out. Fucking Liam.
Nat arrives shortly after we do, and the three of us walk to the front door of the estate together, arm in arm. Not letting Nat enter the lion’s den alone. I have no idea what the male to female ratio will be, but I fear she might be heavily outnumbered.
I’ll have to keep an eye on her tonight. We don’t know these people and Liam has a tendency to see the best in everyone, ultimately missing red flags the size of fucking Texas. He’s not always the most sound judge of character.
I’m reaching for the front door to knock when it swings open, Liam there with a beer in hand and a wickedly stupid grin on his face.
“Yo, the whole squad is here!” he bellows.
The hum of conversation and a song I’m not familiar with hits me as we enter the large space. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the entire perimeter and the view is spectacular. The home is built on a bluff that overlooks the river and it’s breathtaking.
“Nat, Peyton, I’m glad you both decided to come! It was beginning to look suspiciously like a total sausage fest. I know Kyle will be stoked to have both of you here. We spend so much time with our classmates we’re usually ready to kill each other. It’s nice to have some new faces around.”
Liam blushes as he dares a glance at Nat who is oblivious to the subtle flash of longing I recognize in those piercing blues.
I catch a glimpse in my periphery of a walking sex god, and I’m confused when he continues in our direction. Who the fuck is this guy? His eyes settle on Nat as he drifts in our direction.
“Kyle, this is my boyfriend Bailey, and this is Nat.” Peyton gestures in both our directions as she introduces us, as if he’s somehow liable to mistake the two of us. Whatever. I fight the urge to roll my eyes.
“Hey man, nice place. Thanks for having us,” I say, reaching to shake his hand. He has a firm handshake. Squeezing extra tight to let me know he’s a big boy or some shit. Probably a small dick situation, but okay.
I force a smile.
“It’s great to finally meet you guys. I’ve heard a lot about both of you. Between Peyton and Liam I feel like I know you already,” he says, only glancing my way for a split second before returning to Nat. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end when I see him eye her with a predatory glare.
Of course Kyle is a fucking tool. I’ve literally never met a Kyle that wasn’t a raging dickbag. Why should he be an exception?
“Yeah, same,” I lie. I don’t know a goddamn thing about this chode, and I’d just prefer to keep it that way.
There’s something about him that has my hackles rising.
Something lurking behind those eyes that feels malicious.
Am I just bothered because he’s looking at Nat like she’s a snack or is it something more?
I clear my throat and grab Peyton and Nat, “Let’s go get a drink. Liam, lead the way.” Kyle seems to take the fucking hint and saunters away.
“I don’t like that guy,” I say quietly to Peyton. Nat and Liam are a few steps ahead of us but I don’t want Liam to overhear.
“Really?” she asks. “He’s a good one. Promise. Liam likes him and I seriously think he and Nat might hit it off if given the chance. He’s top of our class and comes from a wealthy family. And,” she smiles, wiggling her eyebrows, “I think he’s into her.”
I roll my eyes but decide not to argue. Besides, Peyton is so fucking cute when she’s excited about something and apparently matchmaking is top-tier entertainment for her.
I do love that she was thinking of Nat, even if it was with the intention of hooking her up with a stereotypical Kyle.
“Nobody will ever be good enough for her in your eyes, Bays,” she says. A flash of something crosses her features but I can’t place it. Sadness? Does she really think I would never let Nat be happy? I most certainly would.
“I would love for her to find someone; she just keeps dropping her pole in the same damn pond. I liked that one guy from Christmas a few years ago. Bryce?” I wager.
I really did like that goofy dude. He just wasn’t excited or passionate enough for Nat.
About... anything? The guy was comparable to a traffic light.
Capable of a few tricks, but never really going anywhere.
Master Beto could go toe to toe in a personality contest with ninety percent of the idiots she’s dated.
“She just hasn’t found the right person yet.
” I leave it at that as we meet Nat and Liam in the adjoining room.
Time creeps by at a snail’s pace but I’m finally feeling comfortable. The warmth of the alcohol soothes the unease that covers me like a scratchy, tattered blanket. Threadbare and rough, useless for warmth but cloaked around me like a second skin.
Peyton has been fluttering around all night talking to literally every motherfucker here.
I’m sure she’s introduced me to at least fifteen people, but I don’t remember anyone but the ginger with a space kitty shirt.
No one sports a space kitty shirt unless they have a banger of a personality or are, at minimum, a Dungeon Master.
Oh yeah, can’t feel my toes. It’s happening. I send up a prayer to whatever god there might be that I don’t embarrass myself tonight because I am fuckered up. Schnockered.
“Bailey, can you believe that?” Peyton says. Believe what? How fucking drunk I am because yes, yes I can.
“Nope,” I reply, popping the ‘p’ like a gentlelady. I have no idea what we’re talking about but apparently, I answered correctly because the conversation has successfully moved on without me.
God, I hope they stop trying to include me. It’s annoyitating. I snort a laugh, Regina George saying, “You can’t make Fetch happen,” running through my mind as I entertain the idea of trying to make annoyitating part of my vernacular.