28. Charli
CHARLI
Beer pong is done, and I’m now thoroughly buzzed. I don’t normally get this drunk two nights in a row, but I guess this weekend is an exception. A fun exception with some kind of purpose that I can’t quite remember right now.
All I know is that Sawyer is funny and beer tastes delicious after you’ve had enough of it.
People aren’t blurry yet, but my limbs are liquid and this happy buzz is traveling through my veins.
I want to dance, but I can’t hear music anymore. All I can hear is laughter and shouts and people talking. It’s a hot, fuzzy mess as I follow Sawyer outside for some fresh air.
He leans against the railing, catching my arm when I stumble in front of him.
“You’re such a lightweight.”
“No, I’m not.” I laugh, resting my back against the wooden rail beside him and staring up at his face, which, okay, is just a touch out of focus. Shit, I’m gonna have a headache in the morning. “I need water.” At least I’m coherent enough to realize that.
“Coming right up, Chuck.”
“Upchuck.” I cackle, the sound deep and weird.
Bummer, I’m drunk enough that my crazy laugh is surfacing.
Yeah, I definitely need water.
Thank God I’m hanging with Sawyer tonight and not some guy I’m trying to impress. That would be so embarrassing.
I think I got this laugh from my dad, which I hate because I never asked for it. I sound like a Disney villain, and it only ever comes out when my guard is completely down.
But I’ve been hanging with my best friend, so of course it’s going to be down. Sawyer’s known me through everything—my highlights, my lowlights, my defeat and shame, my triumph. He’s been there for all of it, just the way Darian has… so of course I can unleash my villain laugh around him.
I just—
“Here you go.” Sawyer holds out a glass, and I use my smile as a thank-you, reaching for it and downing the thing in one go.
“You’re still going to feel like trash in the morning. You know that, right?” He rests his hands on the railing, throwing me a little side-eye as his mouth lifts on the right.
I’ve always loved the way it does that.
His lopsided smile is cute.
I poke my finger into his barely there dimple. “I can sleep in tomorrow. I’ll be fine. And I’m not that drunk.”
“You’re so drunk. Because you suck at beer pong.”
A snort pops out of my nose. “I do not suck at beer pong.”
“Oh really? Is that the reason why I’m only a little buzzed and your villain laugh is coming out to play?”
“Shut up.” I nudge him, my deep laugh giving me away before I can slap my hand over my mouth.
He grins down at me and is about to say something else when we’re interrupted by a Tarzan cry.
Our heads whip up in unison to spot Mac on the edge of the roof, shirtless and beating his chest like a gorilla.
“What is he doing?” Cold fear sweeps through me, killing the blur around the edges of my vision.
My eyesight clears in an instant, my heart starting to race as I watch that maniac beat his chest a few more times, then throw himself off the roof with a loud shout.
“Oh my—” Fear clutches me, stealing my words as I push past Sawyer and race to the other side of the deck.
All I can hear is a mighty splash.
All I can see is my father sitting in a wheelchair.
My best friend is right behind me as we shove through the quickly forming crowd who are cheering and shouting and clapping and—
Mac’s head resurfaces, his smile wild and triumphant as he flicks his black hair off his face. The roar from the crowd rises, people jumping around and celebrating like we’ve just won the NBA Finals.
Are they insane?
Mac could have really hurt himself. He could have died! He could have ended up in a fucking wheelchair!
As he swims toward the jetty, I move to get a better view of him climbing out of the water. His shorts are saturated, water running off them as he slops his way across the boards toward me.
I cross my arms and glare at him.
The second he catches my eye, his smile fades, replaced with a fleeting look of surprise before dropping into a scowl, which I meet head-on.
I can’t believe he just did that.
So fucking reckless!
I want to punch him in the face for it.
As he walks past me, I shake my head at him, too angry to form words. He doesn’t seem to care, the crowd enveloping him like a hero. I stay where I am, letting those idiots disappear behind me and crossing my arms.
I pinch my biceps until they hurt.
A strong hand rests on the back of my neck, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“You okay?” Sawyer’s voice is soft and all-knowing.
I shake my head and turn toward the house, stalking past the jumping crowd and looking for my brother.
I need to tell him that Finn MacAlister is off the list! Not that he was ever on it to begin with, but after that stunt, there’s no way I’ll let him move into the house we’ve secured for this year.
He probably wouldn’t want to, anyway.
That’s not the point! He’s not invited.
There’s no way I’m going to suffer living with that prick after a stunt like that.
My nerves are shot, my entire body on edge as I prowl the party, looking for Darian.
Sawyer trails me, staying close but knowing better than to engage when I’m this pissed off.
My insides are pounding with an icy beat, my brain beaten to a pulp by images of my once-athletic father, falling off a roof and changing his life forever.
It happened in college. Mom’s told me the details in full.
Knowing doesn’t change the fact that I have never seen my father walk, and our life has had to accommodate his wheelchair. I’m not complaining. He’s given us everything he could, and my life is not poorer for it.
But my dad was good enough to make the NBA, and he killed that chance through reckless, thoughtless, idiotic behavior. Just the way Mac nearly killed his.
And I’m so pissed off I can barely see straight.
He’s off the list!
That’s all I know for certain.
I will never be living in the same house as Finn MacAlister!