My Sweet Escape

by Chelsea M. Cameron

  “A can for you and a can for you and a can for me.” He handed out sweating cans of Coke. “They didn’t have Dr Pepper, sorry.” How did he know I liked Dr Pepper? “I saw you drink it at the house, and at the Sea Dog.” The question was, why did he remember that?

  “Now how do I know that you didn’t shake this?” I said, pausing before I popped the top.

  “Because I wouldn’t dare do anything to that stunning dress. And I know how you redheads are when you get angry.”

  I wanted to shake the can and open it in his face.

  “That is a common misconception,” I said through clenched teeth. If I’d heard one redhead joke, I’d heard them all, but everyone seemed to live under the delusion that I’d never heard them before.

  “Oh, really? Because I can picture you getting all...fiery.” He stepped closer and I caught a whiff of his cologne. Thankfully, it wasn’t one of those that guys seemed to think it was okay to douse themselves in. It was nice. He also smelled faintly of clean laundry.

  Hannah popped her can and took a huge swig.

  “You don’t seem like a soda kind of guy—what’s up with that?” she said, pointing at the soda in his hand. He opened it, being sure to point it away from me. How considerate.

  “Been there, done that. It wasn’t pretty, that’s for sure.” He wouldn’t look at me when he said it. “More fun, though.” He gazed at the crowd, who was definitely having a good time. Some sort of drinking game was going on in the middle of the room. It was too cramped to play beer pong, but they had cooked up some alternative.

  Hannah was studying Dusty with her head to the side. I caught her eye and she shook her head. If she was trying to tell me something, I wasn’t speaking her language. I finally opened the can of soda and took a sip.

  * * *

  The Steiners put together a little performance, and everyone watched and sang along. Hannah spotted a girl from one of her classes, but didn’t seem to want to go over and talk to her, so we stayed in a corner, talking to Dusty. He left us to go and sing, but always came back, even though several of the guys tried to drag him away or ply him with drinks.

  For some reason, he turned them down and talked with us instead. I couldn’t help but laugh as he told us stupid stories about random things. Dusty was one of those infectious people that made you feel good when you were around them. It was easy to see that everyone adored him, and easy to see why he and Hunter had formed their “bromance.” Hunter was like that, too.

  “I think he’s into you,” Hannah said during one of the songs when Dusty had left us. “Like, really into you.”

  “Well, that doesn’t matter because I’m not into him. At all.”

  “Funny, because you’ve been staring at him like you want to finish him like the last piece of cake.” I stared at her and she wiggled her eyebrows. “Tasty, tasty man cake covered in sex frosting.”

  “You are disgusting.”

  “Or maybe I’m just right.” I had to shush her as Dusty rejoined us.

  “So what do you think about those two crazy kids getting hitched?” He pointed toward Hunter and Taylor, who hadn’t let go of each other pretty much the entire time.

  “Are you asking me about my feelings on marriage, Dusty?” I said.

  “Whoa, Red. Easy there. Just making conversation.”

  “I think it’s lovely. I mean, they’re obviously perfect for each other. Some people are like that. Made for each other,” I said.

  “Some people are,” Dusty said, but he was looking at me, and I could feel my stupid face and ears going red. I wished sometimes I could wear a hat that would cover my ears so people couldn’t see them broadcasting my emotions.

  The marriage conversation was dropped as one of the Steiners started taking bets on if he could sing random songs that people shouted out without making any mistakes. If he made a mistake with a lyric, he had to drink. And everyone else got to drink if he... Well, the rules weren’t really clear. Everyone seemed pretty gone at that point, so it made sense to them, but not to us sober folks.

  Dusty sighed and stared into his soda can.

  “I don’t think anyone’s going to arrest you if you have a beer,” I said.

  He shook his head. “No, but I made someone a promise, and I have to stick to it.”

  “You go to AA?” Hannah said, laughing as the guy singing got a lyric wrong and everyone called him on it. God, you could make anything into a drinking game.

  “No, just took some advice someone gave me to heart. Made a change.”

  “Is this supposed to be an improvement?” I said.

  He held his hand on top of his chest, over his heart. “Ouch.”

  I was saved from replying by Renee stumbling into the wall and Paul barely catching her. Little hypocrite. I knew she drank, having gotten more than one drunk text and a few drunk voice mails from her. Paul caught my eye and nodded.

  “Excuse me,” I said to Hannah and Dusty.

  “I’m not drunk, I swear,” Renee said, although swear came out schwear. “I only had—” she counted on her fingers, but it wasn’t working very well “—three drinks?” It definitely sounded like a question.

  “Good job, Paul. Way to keep her sober.” I patted him on the shoulder as Renee slumped against him and hummed an off-key song.

  “It’s not as easy as it looks,” he said, holding her up. “I’m going to take her home. I can come back and get you, if you want.”

  “I can give Jos a ride. I haven’t been drinking at all.” If there were an award for lurking and sneaking, Dusty Sharp would have won it hands down.

  “Thanks, man,” Paul said as he shoved Renee’s arms into her coat and she protested.

  “Put her to bed and tell her she’s a terrible example. Not that she’ll remember it,” I said.

  “Hey, little sister!” Renee leaned and smacked a kiss on my cheek. “Why are you so sad?”

  “I’m not sad, Ne. Go home.”

  “But you are sad. Sooooo saaaaddddd,” she sang as Paul dragged her out the door.

  “I love how she gets drunk after giving me the third degree,” I said, shaking my head. I was going to give her the third degree the next morning when she was good and hungover so it had the biggest impact.

  “Are you?” Dusty said, laughing a little at Renee.

  “Am I what?”

  “Sad?” Someone yelled, and Dusty pulled me to the side as a guy barreled by us yelling about something or other. In addition to lurking and sneaking, he had very good reflexes.

  “No, I’m not sad,” I lied.

  He tilted his head a little. “You seem sad.”

  I looked away from his searing green eyes. “Um, thanks. I barely know you. I don’t really think you’re qualified to make judgments on my level of sad.”

  “Okay, fine. Just let me know when you and Hannah are ready to go.” With that he turned around and dived into the fray, heading toward the kitchen and the makeshift bar.

  “How are you doing?” Darah had unstuck herself from Mase’s side to come see me.

  “Fine. Did you see Renee?”

  Darah rolled her eyes.

  “She always thinks her tolerance is way higher than it actually is. You’d think she would have learned by now.” Mase came over and put his arm around her.

  “What’s up, Jos? Having a good time?” He was clearly a little buzzed. He held out his fist as if he expected me to give him a bump. So I did and he cheered.

  “Yeah, great party.” I gave him a thumbs-up. It would be so much better if I wasn’t sober.

  Why do you need to drink to have fun? Drinking just dulls your senses. Why would you want to dull the beautiful intensity of life?

  An arm snaked around my shoulder and I jumped. “Hey, girlfriend, you abandoned me.”

/>   I turned to find a grumpy Hannah leaning on me. Some of her hair floated into my mouth and I brushed it away.

  “Do you wanna go?” I said.

  She removed her arm and shrugged.

  “I’m cool with whatever.” Her eyes kept skipping around the room, as if she was looking for someone.

  “What’s up?”

  “Nothing,” she said, smiling at me. “So I’m guessing some guy is going to drive us home now? Some guy named Dusty?”

  Another hand descended on my shoulder, but it wasn’t Hannah’s this time. “You would be correct, Hannah Gillespie.”

  “You know, one of these times you’re going to do that and I’m going to think you’re trying to kill me and I might kick you in the junk.”

  “My junk would be honored,” he said, removing his hand. I saw that he had my and Hannah’s coats in the other.

  “You guys are going home?” Darah said.

  “Yeah, I think so. I still have some homework to do.” That was a lie. I had some blogging to do. I’d decided that I was going to get ahead on posts and schedule them ahead of time so I wouldn’t always be behind. It was a great idea, in theory, but I wasn’t sure how it would work in practice.

  “See you at home, Little Ne!” Mase called as Darah waved to us. How she was going to handle that monster of a guy was beyond me, but she’d done well so far.

  “I’ll tell Taylor and Hunter you went home,” Darah called after us.

  “Ladies,” Dusty said, handing us our coats. We put them on as he led us out of the house. His car was parked in an interesting spot, and he ended up maneuvering it out before we could get in.

  “You can have shotgun,” Hannah said in my ear.

  Awesome.

  Hannah and Dusty chatted about random things as he drove to her dorm.

  “See you tomorrow, girl. Thanks for the ride, Dusty.”

  “Anytime,” he said with that signature wave.

  Once Hannah departed, she appeared to have taken all the air out of the car with her. What was wrong with me? I’d been alone with him in the car before. Why was this different?

  “So what do you really think about Taylor and Hunter getting married?”

  “Why do you care?” I reached out to play with the radio for something to focus on, other than Dusty.

  “Here,” he said, reaching across, grazing my boob and opening the glove box and pulling out a battered iPod. He plugged it into the cigarette lighter and changed the radio station before handing me the iPod.

  “Skip whatever you don’t like.”

  An unfamiliar song came out of the speakers, so I skipped to the next one. Another unfamiliar song. I clicked to his library and scrolled through. Damn, the thing was jammed. He had all sorts of stuff in there. I settled on Beastie Boys, just to watch his face when “Fight for Your Right” came on. I was not disappointed.

  “Interesting choice, Red. I approve.” He nodded, and I could see his teeth flashing in the headlights of the oncoming cars.

  “What, do I not look like a girl who would listen to the Beastie Boys?”

  “No, it’s not that. I just didn’t think you’d choose that.”

  We listened to the rest of the song and then I switched it to Death Cab for Cutie. He laughed.

  “You are an interesting girl, Red. I’m never bored when I’m with you.”

  Ditto.

  “You know, if you ever want to talk about anything, I have pretty good listening skills.”

  “Are they better than your lurking skills? Because you’re pretty good at that,” I said.

  “Lurking?”

  “Yeah, you always seem to sneak up behind me, and I never hear you coming.”

  “It’s a skill. Honed over years of having to get away quietly.”

  “Get away from what?” Let’s see how he liked getting asked personal questions.

  “Nice try, Red. Those doors are shut and they’re not going to open. Not even for a cute little thing like you.” He was trying to distract me, but it wasn’t going to work. I’d just let him think that. I had other means of prying into his life.

  “Fine, fine.” I scrolled through some more songs. Huh. He had Ingrid Michaelson. That was a surprise. I put on “The Way I Am” and waited for his reaction. He laughed softly, and I could almost hear him blushing.

  “If you tell anyone I have Ingrid on here, I will... I don’t know.”

  “What, would listening to her ruin your image?” I put air quotes around image.

  “I am perfectly confident in my image, thank you very much.” He couldn’t even say it with a straight face, so I started laughing.

  “You are so full of shit.”

  “Yeah, Red. I am. You shouldn’t believe a word I say.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Good.”

  “Good.”

  He tried to stop smiling but he couldn’t and I threw my head back and laughed like I hadn’t in a long time. He pulled up in front of Yellowfield House and turned off the car.

  “Here you are,” he said.

  “Here I am.”

  It was one of those moments that, if this were a movie, he would have leaned over and given me a good-night kiss. But because it wasn’t a movie, we just sat there and I tried to think of something that I could say that would give me a graceful exit.

  “Thanks for the ride.” Yeah, that wasn’t it.

  “Anytime. Anytime you need anything, just...let me know.” That would be kind of hard to do, since I didn’t have his number. But yeah, I wasn’t going to ask him for it.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” It was times like these when I wish I had a script.

  “I’m not into you like that, Red. If that’s what you’re worried about.” Well, the script didn’t matter if he went off book.

  “I wasn’t.”

  “Okay. Because I know I joke around, but it’s not serious.” He seemed to be trying really hard to be convincing.

  “Right.”

  “Okay, then. I guess I’ll...see you around.” There seemed to be nothing else to do but get out of the car, so I did and started walking toward the house. I heard the creak of the window crank and then his voice.

  “Jos?” The sound of my actual name made me turn around by reflex.

  “I...” I’d never seen him at a loss for words, but he seemed to be nothing but tongue-tied tonight. He whispered something that I didn’t hear.

  “What?”

  He looked through the windshield and not at me. “Sorry, nothing.”

  “Well...I’m going to go in the house now.”

  “You should do that. It’s too cold to be standing outside.”

  “Right. Here I go.” I started walking backward and he laughed.

  “Don’t trip, Red.”

  I kept going backward until I got to the porch and he watched me the whole time. It wasn’t until I had opened the door, waved and closed it again that I heard his car drive away.

  What a freak that boy was.

  Chapter 12

  Renee was slumped over at the dining table the next morning when I came up for breakfast. I’d heard Paul talking softly to her in their room the night before when I went to check on her and figured he had it under control. The rest of the crew crashed in quite late. For people who were academically inclined, drinking on a Sunday night didn’t seem to be the wisest choice.

  “How you doing, big sister?” I said, going to grab a mug so I could make some tea. The residents of Yellowfield House were big on breakfast, but no one had made any yet, so I grabbed some waffles from the freezer.

  “Shut. Up.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who’s supposed to set a good example. I didn’t force you to drink.”


  “Please, just...later.” She couldn’t even form a complete sentence.

  I waited for my waffles to cook as the other inhabitants of the house stumbled downstairs and went for the coffeepot. If I were a complete bitch, I could have gotten up early and made a crap ton of noise. The idea had been tempting, but I hadn’t acted on it.

  “Alcohol bad,” Renee said as Paul came in the front door holding bags of greasy fast food.

  “Hangover cure,” he said, holding them up.

  “I would cheer, but I don’t want to,” Renee said as Darah leaned against Mase. Taylor raised her fist hesitantly.

  “That’s the best I can do,” she said as Paul distributed the bags and everyone dug in, plates be damned.

  “I got you an egg and cheese, if you want it,” Paul said, holding a bag out to me.

  “I’m set with waffles, but thanks.” He shrugged and handed the sandwich over to Mase, who inhaled it in three bites. Breakfast was a quiet affair and over because everyone was late for whatever they were supposed to be doing. I’d thought some of them would skip, but they all got their butts out the door eventually.

  “So how hungover is everyone in your house right now?” Hannah said when I sat next to her for Pam’s class. We had an unspoken agreement that she would always have Skittles, but I would have to supply my own M&M’s, so I made sure to stop and grab some from the machine in the Union, enough to last me the week.

  “It’s pretty epic. I was feeling bitter about it last night, but now I’m grateful I stayed sober.”

  “Well, there is a solution to not being hungover,” she said, flipping her notebook open.

  “Not drinking?”

  She popped a Skittle into her mouth. “Never being sober.”

  “Valid point.”

  Pam started the class and I had other things to think about for the next hour.

  “You know, your sister keeps you on a tight leash,” Hannah said as we ate lunch. “What did you do?”

  What hadn’t I done? I’d been the poster child for destructive behavior last summer. You name it, I’d done it. Staying out late, partying, drinking, whatever. I’d done what I wanted, when I’d wanted to do it and hadn’t cared what anyone said or tried to do about it. It was fun. For a while. Even though I’d gotten most of it out of my system, I’d burned too many bridges and it was going to be hell to reconstruct them.