by Portia Moore
“What? I don’t get it,” Gia asks.
“He’s talking about brownies with pot, Gia,” Will says, exasperated.
Gia’s eyes widen before she frowns at me disapprovingly.
“Hey, she hasn’t touched anything in a long time. Besides it’s all natural . . .” Zach goes into the history of pot and the real reasons why it was banned and all the politics involved.
I can recite his argument by heart I’ve heard it so many times. It’s one thing he’s passionate about, and Gia listens intently and seems impressed. He’s pretty articulate when he wants to be.
“Well, at least you’re well-informed.” Gia smiles, and I can see her view of him change.
Will rolls his eyes. “Excuse me.” He gets up and heads into the kitchen.
I excuse myself as well. Will’s in the kitchen, drinking a pop near the fridge.
“Hey, what’s your problem?” I ask.
He glares at me, a look I’ve never seen before. He looks angry. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes narrowed. “That’s your best friend—a smug little druggie?”
I squint at him. “Wow, I can’t believe what an ass you’re being. You don’t even know him.”
“I know enough. He’s not good enough for you,” he says a little too loudly.
I look at him in disbelief. “Are you serious right now? He’s not coming here with a marriage proposal. He’s my friend, someone I care about, and don’t ever say anything that rude about him again or we won’t be friends,” I say sharply before turning around to leave.
He grabs my hand, and my stomach flips. He turns me toward him. I look up at him, nerves in the pit of my stomach, and his expression softens.
“I’m sorry,” he says with puppy dog eyes.
I look at his hand holding mine, and our eyes lock. He steps closer to me, and my heart skips a beat. My entire body tingles, and my breathing slows down. Does he feel this? Is it not just me? When his eyes drift from my eyes down to my lips and he licks his, I feel as if I’m going to pass out. But then he lets my hand go, and the look I thought I saw in the eye is gone.
“I’ll be better,” he says quietly before leaving me in the kitchen with my heart dropped to the floor.
Back at the table, Will does do better, his ice-cold demeanor melted. He’s more involved in the dinner conversation, but I’m silent. My heart has gone from the floor to my throat, my thoughts still on what transpired in the kitchen. Will and Zach have found a common interest in the class system in the country . . . and on farming of all things. It turns out that Will’s uncle, his mother’s brother, had a farm, and the summer he stayed with him was one of the best summers of his life. Zach’s biological dad has a farm, and he talks about how peaceful it is and how fulfilling the work is.
Gia looks on as if they have ten heads growing out of their shoulders. “I can’t see why anyone would ever want to do that. You guys are on your own.” She laughs.
Zach shrugs with a grin. “It’s not for everyone, but don’t knock it until you try it.”
She shakes her head. “Nah, not for me. The animals, the crappy pay, living in the middle of nowhere?”
I wonder if she sees the disappointment in her future—well, possible future—fiancé’s face. My thoughts drift back to that night Will dropped me off at my parents’ and how he asked me about Gia living on a farm.
“So, Zach, what’s the plan tonight?” I ask, wanting to change the subject.
“I’ve got us tickets to this after-party a band’s having,” Zach says, and my eyes widen.
“Really! That’s so cool,” I say, excited.
“What time is the party? It’s already kind of late,” Gia asks.
I shoot her a “don’t embarrass me” glare.
“Well, it starts at ten. That gives us, like, an hour to get there. It’s in Wicker Park,” he says.
“That’s not too far from here. I can drop them off,” Will says, and I shoot him a half smile.
“I guess . . . what time would you guys be back?” Gia asks as I start clearing the table.
“I won’t keep her out long. Like around one,” he says, and Gia frowns a little. “Or twelve.” Zach chuckles.
I stop midway to the kitchen. “One is fine. Gia knows I’m eighteen now—nineteen in a couple of months—and she wouldn’t do anything as embarrassing as trying to give me a curfew knowing what a disastrous and unnecessary argument we would have if she did,” I say in a cheerfully sarcastic tone.
She sighs. “Only if Gwen agrees not to do anything that would jeopardize her life or freedom because Chicago is nothing like the little city she grew up in, and if she gets arrested or kidnapped, I won’t be offering any money for her return,” she says in the same tone I used.
“Great, it’s settled,” Zach says happily.
IT TOOK TEN full minutes of arguing with Gia for her to agree to let us take a cab. I felt like a sixteen-year-old fighting with Mom again. When I glanced at Will for help, he finally stepped in and told her we’d be fine.
As soon as we made it to the party, Zach showed me his surprise for the night—Zach had gotten us fake IDs. My name was Lita Maldanado, a twenty-three-year-old redhead, and Zach was James Garvin, twenty-one with bangs. They didn’t look much like us, but Zach swears the bouncers won’t glance at them for more than a second before letting us in.
“Your sister is hot,” he says as I apply eyeliner, lipstick, and mascara while he holds up my pocket mirror for me.
“I think her boyfriend wanted to break your face.” I chuckle.
“Yeah, he did, but it was weird. He was acting like he was your big brother or something,” Zach said, irritated. “He’s kind of a jerk.”
I don’t comment. I’ve never talked about my feelings for Will with Zach. I’ve never even told him how much time Will and I spend together, but as I sit next to Zach holding my mirror so I can do my makeup, I can’t help feeling a little guilty.
“Do you like him?” he asks, and I look at him nervously.
“No,” I say, sounding more dramatic than I intended.
“Why did you get so defensive?” he asks, giving me a suspicious glare before we walk up to the bouncer.
Just as he said, they glance at our IDs for a second before we get in. The club Zach chose is pretty nice. The music is good, and there’re a lot of people, but it’s not too crowded. The music makes me feel invigorated. I move my hips to the beat as we push through the crowd. Zach takes my hand, and I see we’re headed to the bar.
“I’ll have two shots of Jose Cuervo. Training wheels for the lady,” he says to the cute blond bartender. She gives Zach a flirtatious smile.
“She likes you,” I say in his ear, and he winks at me.
“Here you go, cutie,” she says, sliding over two little glasses with clear liquid.
“It’s tequila. Lick it, shoot it, suck it,” he says. “Put the salt on the back of your hand and lick, do the shot, then suck the lime.”
I salt my hand as he says, and we take our glasses and clink them together.
“To you being a big city girl,” he says with a sarcastic smile.
I do the shot just how he said, and when it’s all over, I feel my face contort. I’ve never drank alcohol except for a beer here and there and the occasional glass of wine my mom let me have with dinner when she was in a good mood.
“That’s disgusting,” I say, making a face.
“The second one’s always better.”
“I don’t ever want to drink that again. What is wrong with people? It tastes terrible,” I say, sliding the glass away from me.
Zach only shakes his head and laughs. He motions for the bartender.
“Yeah, sweetie?” she says in a disgustingly cute tone.
“Something sweet for lady, and a shot of the house tequila for me,” he asks.
Her eyes glide to me. “Girlfriend?”
I laugh and bump his hip with mine. “Sister.”
“This drink’s on the house then,” she
says, smiling widely.
When she turns around to make our drinks, Zach looks at me with a seductive grin.
“What?” I ask playfully.
“You’re different here,” he says into my ear.
“Why do you say that?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “You’ve always been cool but not cool enough to do what you just did and score a free drink.”
I wink at him. The bartender is back in front of us with a cute pink drink.
“What’s it called?” I ask, lifting it to my mouth. It’s fruity, sweet, and tastes like a smoothie.
“It’s an Amarillo Sunset. You like?” she asks, and I nod, slurping it up.
“Really good,” I say in surprise.
“If you’re a novice, don’t drink it too fast,” she adds before giving Zach a grin, sliding him his shot, then making her way to the next customer.
“Why do you think she thinks I’m a novice?” I ask, and Zach chuckles.
“The way you looked downing that shot isn’t exactly what an alcoholic would look like,” he says.
Can’t argue with that. After I finish my drink, my legs feel warm, and I can’t stop moving to the music.
“Let’s dance!” I say, pulling Zach to the dance floor.
We dance to fast songs—Zach’s just as into it as I am. We dance to slow songs, and he grabs my ass, though I move his hands up to my back. He eyes me, a little surprised. I just want to move and have fun, and for some reason I can’t help but think of Will’s disapproval about letting him touch me that way. Then I have one more of those fruity drinks, and the music sounds even better and Zach looks even cuter. The more we dance, I stop moving his hands from my butt, and I hug him a lot more. I kiss him on the cheeks then the lips, and I realize I’m about to make out with Zach on the dance floor of a club. What’s worse is I feel guilty because I’m imagining he’s Will.
“What’s wrong?” Zach asks.
“I-I can’t do this. It’s wrong,” I say, hearing my words slurring a bit.
He giggles and moves to my ear. “You’re a little drunk, I think.”
I frown. I’m not drunk. Before I can tell him that, he’s pulling me back over to the bar. The same flirtatious blonde who served us is back.
“Water, please,” he tells her, and she smiles.
Zach looks at me, and I lean on the bar to steady myself. He has such a sexy smile. He shouldn’t be wasting it on me when someone else would appreciate it.
“Do you think she’s cute?” I ask, and he grins with a nod. “You should ask her to dance.”
He looks at me skeptically. “Really?”
I nod adamantly.
“Nah, I can’t do that. You’re my date tonight,” he says with a grin.
I shake my head. “I wouldn’t make a really good date. You should enjoy your night in Chicago. I wish I could.”
“What’s wrong, brat?” he asks, searching my eyes.
I look away. When the bartender comes back, I smile widely at her. “Do you think my brother’s cute?”
She laughs, her eyes cutting over to Zach. “I do actually.”
I look at him, and he smiles, looking almost a little embarrassed. He not usually embarrassed.
“I think you should let him dance with you. It’s his birthday,” I say, laying it on thick. I know I don’t have to do much of that though. She’s obviously into him.
“Well, I’m off in five minutes, if you can wait,” she says to Zach.
“Uh, sure.” He sounds surprised.
“Okay, I’ll come find you,” she says before going to help another customer.
He grabs the glass and hands it to me. “Drink.”
He lifts it to my mouth. I do as he says, then he sets it back on the bar.
“You going to tell me what’s wrong? Something is definitely wrong with you,” he says not as playfully.
I laugh. God there is so much wrong with me—what isn’t wrong? “I’m here without any friends, I have no clue what I want to do with my life, my sister is perfect—smart, beautiful, sweet—and she’s fun but acts like my mother, and I’m in love with her boyfriend.” I hiccup.
As I spoke, the words sounded so normal coming out of my mouth. I’m in love with my sister’s boyfriend. That’s what’s wrong with me. I laugh at the revelation, and everything seems easier, better—until I look at Zach’s face. He looks horrified, then the realization dawns on me what I just said. Aloud.
Oh shit!
“You’re what? With the guy, with the Will dude?” he asks frantically.
“I-I—” I try to think of how to make what I just said sound like a mistake or a flub, but I can’t think of anything. “He doesn’t know, and he’s not in love with me, so it’s not as bad as you think.” I try to sound as if I’m joking, but his face is hard. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
He shakes his head and signals the bartender over again. This time it’s a dark-haired slender man with a noise piercing.
“Double shot of 1800 please,” Zach says.
ZACH TRIES TO hit me with a thousand questions about the bomb I’ve dropped on him—like when did this happen, how did this happen, why am I in love with Will? He asks them so rapidly that they sound like one question. Before I can explain, the bartender from earlier approaches us. She’s even prettier up close, with ice blue eyes and perfect skin. Zach looks a little taken aback. I’m so glad his attention isn’t on me anymore so I can have time to think.
“Are you ready for a dance?” she asks, a little shyer than she appeared earlier.
Zach glances at me. I see he’s about to back out of it.
“Yes, yes, he is,” I say, nudging him toward her. “I’ll be sitting over there.” I point at an empty table nearby.
She takes his hands and puts them around her waist before he can protest, and I’m grateful. I sit and think about what I just said. That I just said out loud to another person. That I admitted it to myself.
WHEN WE GET in the cab, there are three of us. I vaguely remember us all being back at the bar. Ashlyn got us free drinks, and Zach had a whole lot. He’s super touchy-feely now, and he and Ashlyn are on the verge of making out right in the cab. Luckily Will’s house is only a few minutes away from the bar.
When the cab pulls up in front of Will’s building, I open the door and welcome the air. I feel a little warm and a tad dizzy. I step out and wait for Zach to join me. Ashlyn whispers something in his ear, and he turns and looks at me with a super goofy smile.
“I think I’m staying at Ashlyn’s tonight,” he says with a slurred voice.
“Ooh okay,” I say, getting out of the cab. I hear him get out behind me.
He leans back into the cab. “I’ll be right back. Just going to make sure she makes it in safely.”
“You’re such a gentleman,” she says, slurring even more than him.
“I think I have a better chance of making it up without you,” I say.
We walk into the building, Zach singing a jingle from the Frosted Flakes commercial too loudly. When we get to Will’s floor, I shush him.
“You’re drunk, Zach. Maybe you should come inside and just crash,” I tell him, and he nods.
“Nope, I’m not going to sleep on that jerk’s couch,” he says with a pout.
“He’s not a jerk,” I say defensively.
“Yes, he is!”
He’s so loud I shush him, sounding loud myself.
“Damn it, do you remember what apartment he lives in?” I say, scratching my head.
“That one,” he says, pointing at a door.
I walk over to it and knock and wait. When the door opens across from the one we knocked on, we see it’s Will.
His face is red, and he’s glaring at us. “Are you drunk?” Will’s hair is disheveled, and he has on a wife beater that displays the tattoo on his arm in all its glory.
I feel as if my eyes are glued to it. “No, no, I’m not drunk.” I expect Gia to storm out in full mom mode.
&nb
sp; “Okay, brat, I’m out. I’ll be back tomorrow,” Zach says with a slur, heading to the elevator.
“Where the hell is he going?” Will asks.
“He has a date,” I say, walking into the apartment.
Will looks at me with a perplexed expression. “Ugh.”
He’s so cute, and I giggle.
“Okay, you stay here. Let me see where this guy is going,” he says, walking out and shutting the door.
I CAN’T BELIEVE this Zach guy. He’s drunk as hell and taken off in a cab with a girl he doesn’t even know in a city he’s never even been to. God, was I that stupid at his age? I stalk back to my apartment. I’m so pissed, mainly at myself. I let that little shit take Gwen out by herself, and he didn’t even stay sober enough to know what the hell was going on with him or Gwen.
I breathe a sigh of relief when I make it back to my apartment. So many things could have gone wrong. I’m pissed at him for not being coherent and ditching Gwen, but a part of me is glad I don’t have to stay up all night to make sure he didn’t crawl into Gwen’s bed. Not that I should be worried about that. It shouldn’t bother me. She’s not my little sister, and I really shouldn’t care, but I do, and if I caught him in her bed, I probably would have probably broken his pretty-boy face.
“Your friend is a dumb asshole,” I say angrily.
I walk over and see her slumped into the couch. I can tell she’s been drinking too—not as much as her asshole friend, but she’s definitely tipsy. Thank God I convinced Gia to go home. Hopefully Gwen can sober up before I get her back to her house.
“Come on, I’m taking you home,” I say, trying to keep the edge in my voice, but it’s hard looking at her.
“Where’d Gia go?” she asks, her voice lighter than normal.
Her usually pink lips are stained red. She has on heavy makeup like she did the first day I met her. She looks good as always, but she looks different.
“She went home. I told her you could stay in my extra room and Zach could sleep on the couch since I’m closer to the city. I figured you’d want to hang out downtown or something,” I say, unable to stay mad at her.
