Текст книги "A Midsummer's Nightmare"

Автор книги: Kody Keplinger

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9

Sylvia came home from work early on Friday afternoon.

“Are you girls ready to go?” she asked Bailey and me. We were watching American Pie on one of the movie channels in the living room. Or, at least, we had been. Bailey had switched off the TV as soon as Sylvia opened the front door. She must not be allowed to watch R-rated movies. Oops.

“Go where?” I asked.

“You didn’t tell her, Bailey?”

Bailey looked sheepish. “I forgot. Sorry.”

Sylvia shook her head, laughing a little. “It’s okay. Well, Whitley, it looks like you’re in for a fun surprise today. Come on. Let’s go.”

I had to be a bridesmaid.

That was the “fun surprise” that Sylvia sprang on me twenty minutes later, when we pulled up in front of the bridal shop in Oak Hill, a city in the next county over from Hamilton. My summer was just full of awesome surprises.

“Oh, something like this would look great on you,” said Sherri, Sylvia’s just-as-blond, just-as-perky older sister.

She’d met Sylvia, Bailey, and me at Gwyneth’s Bridal Boutique that afternoon, wearing a bright red blouse and sipping Starbucks coffee. She wasted no time in giving me a hug, telling me I was beautiful, and informing me that I was free to call her Aunt Sherri whenever I wanted.

I couldn’t tell if she was a total phony or if she was just clueless.

I already disliked Sherri. Probably because she was so much like Sylvia. But right now she was making matters worse by holding up a sickening baby-blue dress, complete with puffy sleeves and a high neckline, saying how it was just right for me.

“Yeah,” Sherri agreed with herself. “This would be excellent with your figure. And this shade is definitely a good color for you.”

I couldn’t help but think of what Harrison would say to this woman if he saw the horrible dress she was showing me. He’d flip his shit. Have an aneurysm. The sight of this thing might have even killed him. I know I wanted to die at that moment.

“Oh, Sherri, put that away!” Sylvia laughed from the other side of the small parlor. “You know Bailey and I already have the dress picked out. We just need to get Whitley’s measurements.”

“Fine.” Sherri sighed. “But Whitley might still want to try on some of these, just for fun.”

“No, I’m good,” I said. “Really.”

“Whitley, come look at the dress we’ve picked,” Bailey said, waving me over. Given a choice between Bailey and Sherri, I chose Bailey immediately. I skirted around the racks of colorful gowns until I was standing next to the little blond and her mother. “Sorry about her,” Bailey murmured. “Aunt Sherri gets excited easily.” She cleared her throat. “So, this is it. This is the dress.” She pointed to the one Sylvia was examining.

It was bubblegum pink—an instant reason to hate it—and floor-length. The sleeves came to mid-forearm and the bodice was decorated with a spray of tiny yellow fabric-and-bead flowers going up the middle and over one half of the sweetheart neckline. Exactly what you’d expect Sylvia to pick out for bridesmaids’ dresses.

And exactly what I wouldn’t be caught dead in.

“It still needs to be altered,” Sylvia said, as if reading my mind. “I’m going to have the sleeves taken off and the hem shortened just a little. The wedding is in early September, so it will still practically be summer. I think that will look much better.”

“What do you think?” Bailey asked.

“Gorgeous,” I grumbled.

“Did someone need measurements?” called a woman from the front desk just as a redheaded customer exited the boutique carrying a large frilly dress wrapped in plastic.

“Over here.” Sylvia stepped out from behind the wall of hanging dresses. “One of my bridesmaids needs to be measured for her dress.” She beamed before ushering me toward the desk, where the clerk waited. “This is Whitley. She’s a bridesmaid for the Johnson-Caulfield wedding. You should have me on file.”

“I do,” the clerk said after a few seconds. “The pink gown with the flowered bodice, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“Great.” She turned to me then. “All right, Whitley. I’m Lexie. Follow me back into the fitting room and we’ll get your measurements done.”

Lexie was one of those overwhelmingly pretty people. Not beautiful, but pretty. Stick thin. Black hair cut just below her chin. And she walked like a Victoria’s Secret model, strutting down the runway. I couldn’t help admiring her as she led me to the back room of the shop. This chick had it going on.

“Step in here,” she said, gesturing to a dressing room hidden behind a white curtain.

“Why?” I asked. “I thought we were just doing measurements.”

“We are,” Lexie replied, picking up a strip of measuring tape from a nearby table. “But this is a form-fitting dress, and to get an accurate measurement, I’ll need you to strip down to your underwear. Unless you’re cool with everyone seeing,” she added, gesturing to the door as Sherri, Sylvia, and Bailey entered behind us.

I groaned and walked into the dressing room, Lexie on my heels.

Not that I had a problem with my body—for the most part, I didn’t—but these were the last people I would want to see me in my purple bra and thong. They’d probably be scandalized by all that (currently sunburned) skin.

Though I really didn’t want Sexy Lexie to see me practically naked, either. I could feel her eyes on my flat butt, my less-flat stomach. The smug expression on her face when I pulled off my T-shirt told me exactly what she was thinking:

I’m hotter than this chick.

Or maybe she was inwardly laughing at the blistering sunburn that covered the back side of my body. That was possible, too.

“Arms up,” she said, unwinding the measuring tape.

I raised my arms above my head and winced as she wrapped the measuring tape around my chest, the edge of the strip cutting painfully into my inflamed skin.

“Might try a higher SPF next time,” Lexie commented, moving the strip down to my midsection, not bothering to be any gentler, despite having noticed the burn.

“Yeah, thanks,” I muttered. “I appreciate the advice. Because I had no idea what had gone wrong.”

Outside the curtain, I could hear Sherri saying, “You know, Sylvia, you didn’t have to take off work today. I could have brought the girls here on my own.”

“I know,” Sylvia replied. “But I wanted to spend a little time with Whitley. We barely know each other, and moments like this are a good way to bond.” Even though she lowered her voice to a near whisper, I could still hear her add, “I just don’t want her to hate me like I hated Alice, you know? I remember what it’s like to have a crappy stepmom. I don’t want her to go through that.”

“Oh, honey, don’t worry.” Sherri laughed. “I don’t think anyone could ever be as bad as Alice. Whitley will love you. Just give her some time.”

Sylvia sighed. “God, I hope so.”

“All done,” Lexie said from behind me, her voice loud enough in my ear to make me jump. “You can put your clothes back on now.”

“Great.”

She slipped out through the curtain and told Sylvia she’d save the measurements in her file. The dresses would be ready in a few weeks.

After putting my cutoff shorts and T-shirt back on, I met the others in the main room of the boutique. Sylvia smiled at me. “You’ll look so beautiful in the dress. I can’t wait to see it on you.”

I shrugged, then hesitated. I hated that Sylvia had changed my father. I hated that she was so freakishly happy when I wasn’t. But as much as I wanted to spite her, to make her as miserable as I was, knowing that she was trying so hard made me feel just a little guilty.

I cleared my throat. “I mean… thank you.”

A few minutes later, on our way out to the car, while Bailey babbled to Sherri about some new movie she wanted to see, I heard someone calling my name from across the parking lot. I turned and saw Harrison hurrying toward me, dressed in neat jeans and an emerald green polo that made his eyes pop—even from this distance.

God, he was gorgeous. The female population was seriously missing out.

“Hey, girl,” he said when he caught up to me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

Beside me, Sylvia cleared her throat. Sherri and Bailey were already in Sherri’s car (Bailey was going to spend the rest of the afternoon at her aunt’s), but Sylvia had hung back, waiting to see who I was talking to, I guess. Nosy much?

I rolled my eyes. “Sylvia, this is Harrison. Harrison, this is Sylvia—Nathan’s mom.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said, shaking her hand. “You’re Greg’s fiancée, right? You’re a lucky woman.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I think so, too. And I’m glad to see Whitley is making friends here in Hamilton.” She squeezed my shoulder and I cringed. “Oh! Sunburn—I forgot. Sorry. Well, I’ll leave you two alone. It was nice meeting you, Harrison.”

When she was across the parking lot and in the front seat of her Prius, Harrison said, “She seems nice.”

“I guess. So, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, I work here.”

“Here? At Gwyneth’s?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It was a summer job turned all-year job once I decided to take the year off.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“It’s nice—good experience for a fashion major and all that jazz.” He sighed. “I just prefer men’s clothing. You can only look at so many dresses a day, you know?”

I nodded. “Yeah—I know.”

“So, are you still coming to the party tomorrow?” he asked.

“Is there still going to be booze?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. Call me and I’ll give you the address, okay?”

“Sure.” I glanced over my shoulder at the car, where I could see Sylvia watching us from the window. “I should go.”

“Me, too. See you tomorrow.”

I turned and started to walk away, but before I got too far Harrison added, “And hey, be careful out in the sun. You’re starting to resemble a tomato.”

“Yes, I’m aware. Bye, Harrison.”

When I got into the car, Sylvia had that toothy smile on her face. “He seems like a sweet boy,” she said. “Did you meet him at the Nest the other night?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you guys going to be hanging out?”

“Maybe.”

“Oh, that’s great. I’m so happy you’re making friends. I was a little worried with how you’d adjust. New place, new people. I know it can be daunting. But Harrison seems like a nice boy to be friends with.”

I let out a loud sigh, letting her know that the chitchat was getting annoying. “He’s not my friend,” I said flatly. Before she could ask questions, I leaned forward and fooled with the radio, stopping on the first classic rock station I found and turning up the volume. She didn’t turn it back down, and she didn’t push the subject.

10

“Are you going to a party?”

Bailey was standing in the doorway to the guest room that night, an hour or so after getting back from Sherri’s house. I wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there. Long enough to hear at least part of the phone conversation I’d just had with Harrison. She smiled and walked inside, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah,” I said, putting my cell on top of the dresser.

“Can I come?”

I should have known that was coming. Bailey hadn’t said much about her night at the Nest, even though I knew things hadn’t been as exciting as she’d hoped. But apparently she hadn’t given up on the Hamilton social scene just yet.

“I don’t know.”

“Please, Whitley?” she said. “I won’t get in your way or anything. I just… I don’t want to be the only girl to start high school without knowing anyone, you know?”

“You’re better off staying on your own,” I told her. “Friends are a waste of time.”

She frowned at me. “Why?”

“They just are,” I said. “The kids in high school suck. They’re selfish and fake. You’re better off being a loner.”

Bailey shook her head. “That’s stupid,” she insisted. “Maybe you’re too much of a grouch to make friends, but I’m not, so—” She broke off, a little blush on her face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for that to sound so mean. But seriously, can I please go with you?”

I sighed. “Whatever. I guess you can come. The party’s tomorrow night.”

“Yes!” She bounced up and down on the bed a little. “How are we getting there?”

That was a good question. Harrison was riding over with some friends of his, so he couldn’t pick me up; Dad probably wouldn’t be back from the college he was doing the commencement speech for; and there was no way in hell I was asking Sylvia to take me. She’d probably ask to meet the host and bring a tray of cookies or something.

Which meant I only had one other option.

“Come in.”

I pushed open Nathan’s bedroom door and found him sitting at his desk.

“Oh. Hey, Whit.”

He looked up from his laptop, sounding surprised. I wondered what he was doing on there. Looking at porn, maybe? That’s what most eighteen-year-old boys used computers for, right? Somehow, though, Nathan didn’t strike me as the type. Maybe it was the Spider-Man comforter on his bed or the Darth Vader bobblehead on his shelf, but he seemed to be more nerdy than pervy.

Not what I’d expected from the party animal I’d met graduation night.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“I need a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“Can you drive Bailey and me to a party tomorrow night?”

Nathan frowned. “I don’t know….”

“What’s the problem?” I asked. “It’s not like you have an issue with parties.”

His expression soured, and he looked at me with distaste.

“Get over it, Nathan,” I snapped. “It happened. We screwed. I’m sure you don’t want to piss off your mommy, but pretending you’re a saint in front of me is pointless.”

“I never said I was a saint.”

“Then get the stick out of your ass and take Bailey and me to the party.” When he still didn’t move, I sighed. “Please? I want to go, and so does your sister. I just want to have a little fun, and I wouldn’t be asking if I had any other options.”

He chewed on the corner of his mouth for a second. “Fine,” he said at last. “But I’m coming, too. Someone’s got to keep an eye on Bailey.”

“She doesn’t need a babysitter,” I told him.

“She’s thirteen. She’s too young to go to a party without someone watching out for her.”

“Then I’ll keep an eye on her,” I said, hoping to talk him out of actually coming to the party. I won’t lie—part of me worried that if I got too drunk, I’d try to sleep with him again. Being at the same party with Nathan Caulfield just seemed like a recipe for disaster.

“All right,” he said. “But I’m still coming.”

I groaned. “Why?”

“I’ll stay out of your hair. And I’ll be the designated driver. I’d just feel better if I was there.”

I wouldn’t, I thought. But I knew there was no arguing with him. At least it would make Harrison happy. “Whatever.”

“All right. Do you have an address for the place?”

“Yeah.” I pulled the folded paper out of my pocket, the one I’d jotted Harrison’s directions on, and tossed it to Nathan. “I want to be there by nine, okay?”

“You’re the one who takes five years to get ready, remember?”

“Shut up.”

I turned and started to walk out the door, but Nathan said, “Whit?”

“Whitley. And what?”

“Do me a favor. If Mom asks, we’re going to see that sci-fi movie and doing late-night bowling afterward.” He looked at me seriously. “Don’t tell her about the party.”

“Fine by me.”

I made a point of getting up early Saturday morning (as in, before noon) so I could see Dad before he left for the commencement ceremony. It didn’t seem like we’d talked much at all that week. When he wasn’t at work, he was busy hanging paintings or putting away some of the things still left in boxes from the move, or else he was glued to his laptop. The only times he wasn’t busy were during dinner or when he sat down to watch ESPN with Nathan, neither of which were great opportunities to have a one-on-one conversation.

But Saturday morning, while Sylvia and Sherri went to do some wedding shopping and Nathan and Bailey were still asleep, I went downstairs to join Dad for breakfast.

“Hey, munchkin,” he said when I walked into the dining room in my pajamas. “You’re up shockingly early.”

“Yeah.” I walked through the archway into the kitchen, heading for the cabinet with the cereal bowls. “I thought maybe we could catch up before you left. We haven’t really had a chance to talk much. How’s work going?”

“Pretty well,” he said, loudly so I could hear him. I poured some cereal and joined him at the dining table. “They offered me a job on the evening news a couple weeks ago because one of the anchors is moving to Dallas. The bosses think I’d up the ratings in that slot.”

“Cool. Will you take it?”

“No.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I like my schedule the way it is now. I get home around noon and Sylvia gets home at five. If I did the evening news, I’d be leaving right before she got home and getting in late. I’d never see her or the kids.”

“Right,” I said.

It was stupid to feel jealous. I knew that. I just wished I could see Dad every afternoon the way they would, instead of just a few months a year.

“What about you?” he asked. “Excited about college?”

“A little. Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. I’ve been thinking about what I should major in, and I was wondering if you could—”

I was interrupted by the sound of the cordless phone ringing. Dad picked it up. “Hello? Oh, hey, sweetheart… Hold on. Let me look at the guest list. I was thinking we had two hundred people down, but that number might be off. Just a second.” He covered the receiver. “Sorry, munchkin. I’ve got to help her with this and then get ready to hit the road. We’ll talk college later, okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Later.”

He ruffled my hair as he walked past me, out of the dining room.

I ate the rest of my breakfast alone.

11

Nathan had to park his Honda a whole block from the party, which was a good thing for two reasons. First, it gave Bailey and me the chance to ditch him before we even got to the house. I don’t know about her, but I didn’t want to be seen with the guy wearing a shirt that said, MAY THE MASS TIMES ACCELERATION BE WITH YOU. Second, it meant there were tons of people at this party. And hopefully tons of alcohol, too.

So, while Nathan locked up the car, Bailey and I made a run for it. Only we didn’t really run, since we were both wearing less-than-abiding shoes (mine: platform slingbacks; hers: wedge heels), but we did manage to walk really, really fast. By the time we reached the front door of the party house—a total mansion, like Harrison had said—Nathan was far behind us. Well, he’d promised to stay out of our hair.

“Wow,” I heard Bailey gasp as the front door swung open for us, though I wasn’t sure if that was her reaction to the freakishly large house or to the drop-dead-gorgeous guy standing in front of us.

“Good evening, ladies,” he said, stepping aside to let us enter.

Automatically, I found myself standing up taller and sliding my shoulder blades back for optimum cleavage exposure. It was like a flirting reflex. I just wished I wasn’t all sunburned. “Hello to you.”

He grinned at me. A cocky, sexy grin. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said. He glanced at Bailey then. “Any of us. I’m sure I’d remember those pretty faces.”

I swear, Bailey was blushing so hard I could feel the heat radiating from her body.

“Oh, you’d remember,” I agreed, tossing back my hair and putting a hand on my hip. “I’m Whi—”

“Whitley!”

I jumped and spun around involuntarily. Harrison was standing beside me, looking thoroughly delighted. “Hello again, darling. You look gorgeous—and the lack of flip-flops is making my day. Those slingbacks are perfect!”

I nodded, glancing over my shoulder at the hot guy, but he’d already moved on and was chatting with a group of kids a few feet away. Goddamn it.

“Wesley is just so busy,” Harrison said, following my gaze. “You have to give him credit for being a great host. He talks to everyone. Seems like way too much work to me.”

“Yeah.” I wasn’t really listening. I decided I’d have to catch up with the guy later. He was my ticket to a good time. I’d just have to be careful not to drink so much I actually slept with him. Last time I let that happen, it hadn’t exactly ended well.

Next to me, Bailey cleared her throat.

“Oh, um, Harrison,” I said, snapping back to attention. “This is Bailey… my, uh, future stepsister or something.”

Harrison’s eyes lit up. “Nathan’s baby sister? Oh, that’s so sweet. Did your brother come with you?” he asked Bailey.

“Yeah. He drove.”

“Oh, goody.”

I rolled my eyes.

Harrison shrugged and smiled at Bailey again. “Great dress, by the way. Summer colors look amazing with your skin tone. So lucky you can pull off yellow.”

“Oh… thanks,” she said. “I got it on sale.”

“Nice job,” he said. “Okay, so… drinks?”

“Oh, Christ, yes,” I said.

Bailey followed behind as Harrison and I made our way through the crowd toward the dining room. The place was packed with teenagers, and there didn’t seem to be an adult in sight.

Harrison poured me a shot of tequila when we reached the kitchen. It was expensive tequila, much better than the stuff in my bedroom. I knocked it back in a heartbeat and set my glass on the counter, gesturing for Harrison to pour me another.

“Can I have one?” Bailey asked.

Harrison looked at me questioningly, and I shrugged.

“Here you go,” Harrison said, handing a shot glass to her before pouring my second round.

I watched her bring the glass to her lips, sipping at the liquor a little at a time.

“Not like that,” I told her. “You have to drink it all at once. Sipping at it like that will just make you miserable because it tastes like shit.” Harrison held out my glass and I took it from him. “Like this.” I downed it, the way I had the first, and put my glass back on the counter.

“Okay,” she said. She took a deep breath and lifted the glass to her lips. I could almost hear her thoughts, counting down. Three, two, one… And then she drank it all. She sputtered a little, her face contorting at the taste, but she recovered pretty fast.

“There you go,” I said, taking her glass.

“I… Can I have another one?”

“Don’t overdo it just yet,” I said. I thought for a moment, then picked up a glass, pouring her a little more tequila. This time, I half filled the cup, then mixed the alcohol with some fruit juice that had been left out. “Here. It won’t taste wonderful, but you can sip on this for a while.”

“Thanks,” she said, taking the cup from me.

“Bailey,” Harrison said. “You know, I have some friends who’d just adore you. Are you about to start high school? Freshman?”

She nodded.

“Fabulous.” He winked at me and took Bailey by the elbow. “Follow me, darling. There is a whole posse of sophomore boys who would just eat up a cutie-pie like you.”

She looked over her shoulder at me, grinning from ear to ear, as Harrison led her away.

“I’ll catch up with you in a little bit,” I told her. “Have fun.”

I downed my third shot before mixing the juice and tequila for myself. Then I carried my glass back into the huge living room. The stereo was playing loud music—actually, it was pretty cool. Normally at this kind of party you heard the same rap shit. But this one seemed to be a little more upscale. Some really interesting piano rock boomed through the speakers, giving the place a more relaxed vibe. Of course, that meant no one was dancing. Honestly, though, that was probably a good thing.

With me, tequila combined with dancing often led to public stripteases.

I circled the room for a while, scanning the crowd that had congregated in the mansion. I recognized some faces from the Nest. Others were complete strangers. But it seemed like every type of person was at this party. Punks, emos, jocks, preps, geeks, and stoners. I wondered if every teenager in Hamilton was in this house.

About halfway through my third trip around the room, just as the tequila started to kick in, I spotted Wesley, the hot host. He was sitting on one of the couches, talking to some blond girl with a ponytail. When she stood up and walked away, I took my chance and dropped into the seat she’d abandoned.

“Hey,” I said, crossing my legs and leaning a little toward him. “Nice party.”

“Thank you. It took me forever to convince my parents to leave long enough for me to have something like this. But I figured a year away at college deserves a big welcome-home party.”

“I think it does, too,” I agreed. “Where do you go to college?”

“Columbia. I’m a business major.”

“Wow. Smart and ambitious. That’s a pretty big turn-on for girls, you know.”

“That’s what I’m told,” he said. “Anyway, I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to talk earlier, and even sorrier I didn’t get your name.”

“Whitley.” I didn’t mention my surname. Last time I’d done that, the guy had totally admitted to crushing on my dad. No way was I letting that happen again. “And let me guess—you’re Wesley, right?”

“That’s right. Good guess.”

“It was, huh?” I said, rubbing my lips together. “Hmm… In that case, I think I deserve a prize.”

“A prize?” He laughed.

“Of course,” I told him. “I totally deserve to be rewarded. On TV, when people guess the right answer, they get a prize. I want a prize, too.” I scooted a little closer, my leg brushing his. “But I’d be glad to share. I’m not greedy.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but before the words came out, a girl collapsed onto the cushion on his other side.

“I hate parties,” she growled.

Wesley turned his head to face her. She was short, with wavy auburn hair and a horrific sense of style. Her red Converse tennis shoes looked about six years old, and her T-shirt was so faded it looked like it would be a prime choice for a detergent commercial. Not the cool, store-bought faded, either. She needed a severe wardrobe check. Harrison would have had a field day with this girl.

“Hello there,” Wesley said. To my surprise, he slipped an arm around her shoulders. “I see that it’s working, then?”

“What is?” she asked.

“My strategy. The bigger the party gets, the sooner you’ll retreat upstairs to my room, and then my victory can be secured.”

She rolled her eyes as he placed a kiss at the junction between her shoulder and neck. “Perv.”

He laughed. “Plus, you’re hotter when you’re annoyed.” He looked back at me. “Whitley, this is my girlfriend, Bianca. Bianca, this is Whitley, the amazing name guesser.”

Wait. His girlfriend? Seriously? In my experience, boys this hot rarely committed to anyone less than a supermodel. He was way out of this girl’s league. Hell, Wesley was way out of my league.

“Well,” she said, glancing at me, “it won’t be long before I retreat if every girl here is going to insist on flirting with you.”

“Can you blame them?” he asked.

“Of course I can. A smart girl would find your egomania repulsive.”

“You know you like it.”

“Maybe,” she said. “But it took me a while. Your first impression? Not exactly charming.”

“Hello to you, too,” I muttered, even though I’d already been forgotten.

This was the second time I’d been shot down since arriving in Hamilton. Once because the boy was more interested in my dad, and now I’d been rejected for a girl in saggy jeans.

He kept his arm around her, and they started having a whole conversation that I was clearly not a part of. Names I didn’t know. Places I’d never been. After a while, I stood up and left them on the couch. I wasn’t drunk enough yet to think this was funny.

I didn’t see Bailey when I pushed through the crowd. I thought about looking for her, since I’d promised Nathan I’d keep an eye on her, but after a second I decided against it. Nathan was being ridiculous and uptight. Bailey was probably having a great time, meeting kids from her school. She would hate me if I interrupted her fun or embarrassed her by checking in on her. Bailey was smart; she could handle herself. Smarter than I was at her age, anyway.

I poured myself another shot. Two more shots. Within ten minutes, I was smiling from ear to ear. Tequila made everything better.

“Hi.”

I turned around and found a guy—kind of cute, nothing special, but I wasn’t picky—smiling at me. I grinned, putting my glass on the counter and leaning back against the cabinets. “Hey.” I giggled. He had a nose like a pug’s, and his hair was all spiky—it reminded me of a porcupine. “How are you?”

“Better now that I’ve met you.”

Wow. That was lame. I snorted with laughter.

“So, what’s your name?” he asked.

“Whitley.”

“That’s a sexy name.”

“You bet your ass it is.”

He smirked.

Five minutes later, the guy and I were going at it in a downstairs bedroom. Around the time his hand slid under my top, I realized I was really, really bad about getting boys’ names.

I needed to work on that.