by Molly E. Lee
I shook my head and she smacked my arm like I was in trouble.
“It’s only the food of the gods!”
Every girl at the table nodded their agreement. “Okay,” I said, dragging out the word. “I’ll try some?”
“Yes,” she said. “As soon as possible.” Her eyes brightened. “Actually, you should totally tell your dad it is like phenomenal on pancakes. Or waffles.”
“And stuffed inside a croissant!” Becky snapped her finger at me, and Zoey high-fived her.
“See,” she said. “I know what I’m talking about.”
I forced out a laugh. “Sure, all right.” A pain twisted in my gut. I would love to tell my dad to experiment with an obvious crowd-pleaser, but wasn’t sure if there was a point. Not now that the shop was potentially closing. Though I had a hard time thinking Dad would stop cooking. It was his passion, but he’d likely have to take a job as a sous chef working for someone else…making their menu. I closed my eyes for a moment, sending up a silent prayer I could convince the most ruthless businessman in our town that keeping the shop open and the way it was would be more profitable than a coffee shop.
“Next question,” Becky said after they’d stopped talking about all the things you could put Nutella on. “Would you rather be the funniest person in the room or the most intelligent?”
Well, that was a no-brainer. Pun intended. I smacked the A card down at the same time as Zoey.
“Dude,” she chided, unable to hold in her laugh. “Seriously?”
I shrugged. I wasn’t going to explain this one’s reasoning. She had to know already.
We both knew what it was like being seen as the smartest kid in the room—or in the class. It wasn’t always a picnic. People often took the love of challenging your brain as either being a total nerd or being a total snob. Honestly, the only reason I think I was spared the rumor mill was because my dad and I didn’t have money like Zoey’s family did. Pairing her incredible mind, constant advanced classes, and being one of the richest girls in the class—besides Katy Evans—well, it only made her a bigger target.
The truth of that line of thought caught up in my heart, and my shoulders sank. Competing with her had blinded me to all the things she must have gone through for the past decade. I’d never put myself in her shoes, and now that we’d finally called a truce, I found myself wishing I had.
I couldn’t change the past, though, so I resolved myself to be more open-minded in the future. On everything. Especially when it came to her.
“I wish I was funny,” Zoey said, fiddling with her card. “Braylen is funny. Not on purpose, but that girl can weave a story that has you in stiches by the end. She doesn’t even realize how fun it makes her to be around.” She shook her head. “I’d love to know that feeling.”
I tapped her glass before taking a drink since we were in the minority this time. “Come on,” I said after I swallowed the beer. “That time sophomore year when you organized the improv troupe to perform for the children’s hospital? That was hilarious.”
Her cheeks flushed red as she set her cup down after the sip she’d taken. “I didn’t tell the jokes.”
“You made the prompts.”
“Yeah,” Becky said. “That was a good show.” She’d been one of the people on the troupe. I could still remember the smiles on those kids’ faces, the way they laughed so hard some of them fell out of their chairs. That was because of Zoey’s ability to please a crowd and play to her audience. I’d been there as a volunteer, too, making dozens of giraffe and poodle balloon animals.
“You two are crazy.” She shook her head. “But thanks.”
Becky slid the next question card off the deck, and I jotted down in my note app that Zoey and I were two for two. Same answers, same responses. Looks like I would not only win the bet, but learn more about Zoey than almost a lifetime had taught me.
“Would you rather reverse one decision you make every day, or be able to stop time for ten seconds every day?”
This one took me the full thirty seconds, but Zoey had her answer picked out in half the time, holding it to her chest to hide it from me. Finally, I sat my B card up on the table. Zoey laid down her A card.
I cocked an eyebrow at her. “Are you sure you’re being truthful?” I asked. Hard to believe the girl made decisions on the regular that she would change. She was a planner, and analyzed every major decision weeks in advance.
“Yes.” Her face was smooth of the light laughter that had played on her lips seconds ago. “I regret things. Don’t you?”
I felt the jab more than she implied it. “Yes,” I said. “Of course, I do.” This morning’s speech was on the top of that list. “But not enough to want to change something every single day of my life.” I shrugged. “Now, if I had an extra ten seconds to take a breath and think about what was going to come out of my mouth…say right before a certain introduction…well, that could change everything.”
She pressed her lips together, her eyes locking on to mine like I was a ridiculously hard riddle she was desperate to solve. After a second, she blinked, tilting her head from side to side, accepting my reasoning.
I was the only one who answered B, so I had to drink.
Becky grabbed another card, this one colored a bright red, whereas the majority of the cards were blue. She waved it back and forth, the motion snapping the card as the group whooped and groaned at the same time. “Red card!” she said, and the color of it matched her cheeks as she read the question to herself first. “Would you rather accidentally send a dirty text to Principal Howe or leave a sexy voicemail to your mom?”
Laughter erupted around the table, everyone shook their heads as they hissed at the impossible question.
Red means dirty. Got it.
I chuckled quietly to myself, the answer more than easy for me. After thirty seconds, Zoey and I put our answers down at the same time.
“B?” She gaped at me, glancing down at her A card.
I shrugged. “I would risk any form of embarrassment if it meant my mom was here,” I answered so only she could hear me.
The smile melted off her face.
“Oh no,” I said, raising my hands. “Don’t feel sorry for me,” I begged. “It’s just the truth. I’m okay.” I rubbed her back to try and get her to laugh again. “But really? You’d rather text Principal Howe?”
“My mother would lose her shit if I stepped a toe in the schmexy direction.”
“Yeah?” I asked. “I figured girls and their moms talked about that stuff all the time.”
“From what I hear,” she said. “Bray and her mom are that close.”
It was my turn to frown at her. “Stop.” She smacked my chest. “Where are we at?” She glanced down at my cell.
“Dead tie. Two same. Two opposite.”
Her eyebrows raised. “Closer than I’d like,” she teased. “Think you can handle the rest of the deck?”
I squinted my eyes at it. The deck had at least twenty cards left. “Sure.”
“Nice,” she said. “You’re going down.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” I’d lost count how many times I’d lost to Zoey, but with twenty cards left, I had a feeling it would be closer than any of us realized. “And that just means I’ll hang on to Branch all summer.”
Zoey gasped.
“Okay,” Becky said. “Next up.”
It took another hour—and four more incredibly embarrassing red cards—to come to the end of the deck. Becky held up the last card, and I was grateful it was an easy blue one. I’d already had to answer questions about wearing lingerie vs. nothing, and my preference for chocolate sauce vs. ice cubes, all of which I didn’t have a solid answer on because of lack of experience—not that I was advertising that fact.
“Would you rather have thick crust or thin crust?” Becky asked, her nose scrunching up like she’d tasted something sour. “Who the hell wrote that lame one?”
I laughed, grateful for the no-brainer. Zoey and I slapp
ed down our A cards, as well as everyone else at the table except for Jarred, who’d laid down the B one.
“Looks like I win,” I said, playfully nudging Zoey. We had answered eighteen out of twenty-five questions the same. “I’ll just hold on to the money we won earlier until you’re ready to go up against me again.”
She tossed her cards on the table and crossed her arms over her chest. I had the dumbest urge to snap a photo of her and save it on my cell—the girl was beyond hot when she pouted.
“You’re all drunk, right?” Jarred glared around the table like we had personally attacked him. “There is no way you all think thick crust is better than thin.” A gloss coated his eyes, showing how much he’d drank throughout the night, but if that didn’t give it away, his crazy sharp tone would’ve.
“Relax,” Don said. “It’s just a game.”
“No, bro.” He shoved off Don’s attempts to calm him. “This is bullshit! I shouldn’t have to drink. Every one of you is wrong.”
“Dude, chill.” Don raised his cup. “I’ll take your drink for you.”
“No, you’re wrong!” he snapped.
“Technically, there is no wrong answer,” I blurted out, unable to keep my thoughts to myself.
“What?” Jarred slit his eyes at me.
“It’s subjective.” Zoey instantly backed me up, the fast defense shocking me to my core. “You can’t possibly find a ‘correct’ answer to a question based solely on preference.”
I beamed at her. She’d stolen the words right out of my mouth. “What she said.” I nodded toward her and gave her a fist-bump.
Jarred slammed his cards on the table and leaped to his feet. “Fuck all of you. I’m right.”
I gaped at him as he stormed from the room, his boys following him in a hurry.
Zoey tapped my shoulder, drawing my attention from the scene. “You going to answer that?”
I blinked at her, totally oblivious.
“Your cell is vibrating.” She pointed to my phone laying on the couch cushion between us. I hadn’t felt it buzz.
Dad’s number lit up the screen, but it went to voicemail before I could answer it. “Thanks,” I said, motioning toward the door. “I should probably go call him back.” A rock lodged itself in my throat in the seconds where I didn’t know if that meant our night together was over, or if she wanted me to come back. The struggle must have been written all over my face because she flashed me a soft smile.
“I’ll catch up with you in a bit?” She glanced toward the door, too. “I want to go check on Bray, anyway.” A wrinkle formed between her brows, and I had the dumbest urge to smooth it away, or at least ask her what bothered her so much in that moment. She hurried off before I got the chance to decide if I was stupid enough to go for either action.
I rubbed my palms over my face as I walked down the hallway, trying like hell to find some solid ground in my shook-up brain. I hadn’t drunk nearly enough to wash away all the stresses of the day or the distraction of tomorrow’s meeting, but Zoey’s presence was working wonders the alcohol couldn’t touch, and that blew my mind more than anything.
Walking past the kitchen, I searched Lennon’s place for a quiet room to call Dad back, but the house was packed, so I headed to his front porch instead. The spot offered a little less noise than the buzzing party, and I swiped the screen on my cell.
“Hey, Dad,” I said when he’d answered after two rings. “What’s up?”
“Missed you when we closed after lunch.”
I dropped the phone from my ear to check the time. It was almost ten. “Sorry, Dad. I needed to get something done.” I’d rushed home to put together the business plan and profit margins for Mr. Handler. It was all neatly sitting in a folder in my room. So much for not thinking about the meeting. “I—”
“No, not in a bad way,” he cut me off. “I know you had to get ready for that party, kid. I meant…well, it was strange. Thinking it could be one of the last times. You know?”
I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. I cleared my throat, wishing it would stop failing me today. Where was my lack of words when I made that stupid speech today, huh? “Yeah,” I said. “I don’t know if you’ve ever been home before eleven…like ever.”
“I don’t know what to do with myself.” Dad laughed, and it sounded genuine. “Anyway,” he said. “I was just checking on you. Not like you to stay out past nine.”
“Gee, thanks.” I rolled my eyes. He made me sound so lame. “Tonight is different.” Zoey asked me to stay. And I wanted to.
“I’m getting that.” He sighed. “Look,” he said. “Don’t let what’s going on here mess with you there. Okay?”
Translation, don’t get wasted. Whoops.
I’ll slow it down.
“I’ll figure it all out,” he continued when I hadn’t said anything. “You know that, right? We’ll be okay.”
“I know, Dad.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, staring down at the fresh beer I’d grabbed on my way out here. I wanted to tell him about the meeting, but I still didn’t want to get his hopes up, either. I had less than twenty-four hours to go, and then we’d have a better idea of where the shop was headed. It could wait. I could hold out a little longer.
The thing about Dad was that he always took everything on himself. Never asked for help, but I gave it anyway. Because he deserved it. Because he was the best man I knew, and the fact that I didn’t have a sure-fire, no-fail way out of this problem was eating away at my insides. The gnawing sensation bit at my gut right alongside what I’d done to Zoey, though that suffering was less since she’d given me a pass. Still didn’t know how that miracle had happened, but I wasn’t unhappy with the effect.
The thought of her waiting for me inside sent a rush of welcomed heat through my chest, and it helped chase away the nasty gritty feeling of guilt. I would figure out a way to help my father, his shop, and land the internship. Just not right this second. Tonight was no longer about apologizing nor was it about graduating at the top of my class—that was over.
Now, all I had to do was forget for the next few hours—forget I was Gordon Meyers, second in his class, his dreams crumbling around him. I wanted to just be Gordon for a night, a guy who was seriously overdue some party time. And where better to do it than at Lennon’s?
Who better to do it with than Zoey?
Never thought I’d say that.
I’d still be sure to get a solid six hours of sleep before the big meeting tomorrow.
“I’ll be late, Dad. That okay?”
“Sure, just be careful. If I need to pick you up, I don’t care what time it is, just call me. No questions asked. You’ve never stepped out of line, Gordon. You’ve earned a night.”
A smile broke my lips. “I don’t need a pass. I’m good.”
“Just so you know.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Love you, kid.”
I darted my eyes around to see if anyone was in earshot. “Love you, too.” I quickly ended the call, shaking my head. I knew what it was like to lose a parent. Knew the feeling—like you lost an organ, a vital piece of yourself—so I never missed an opportunity to let Dad know how I felt, but damn if I wanted to catch flack for it from a bunch of half-drunk seniors at the party. Luckily, no one heard, and I headed back inside, ready to drink and see where the night led with Zoey at the helm.
“Fuck,” Fynn snapped as he walked right past me on his way toward the front door.
“What’s up, Fynn?” I asked.
“Huh?” He stopped and spun around.
I clutched his shoulder, jerking him to the side of the guest bathroom just as Jarred sprinted inside it. He slammed the door shut and I tried not to laugh. From his tantrum in the would you rather…? room, it was clear he was a few steps past wasted. Jarred was a pain in the ass, and the whole party would be better off if he had to spend a few hours locked in the bathroom. I arched an eyebrow at Fynn. “You just snapped, fuck. What’d you do, lose your date?”
I registered the completely confused look in his eyes, and crossed my arms over my chest to lean against the wall. “That makes two of us.” He had no idea just how much I was losing my mind tonight. I mean, Zoey? No one would see that coming, not even me. “Reasoning?” I asked, bringing the attention back to him.
“Katy. Braylen. Both are making my head spin.”
“Women.” I clenched my teeth, wishing every cell in my body wasn’t screaming to get back to Zoey. How could I be aching to see her even though I’d only been separated from her for the length of a phone call? How was it that this morning she had been the bane of my existence, and now I just wanted to sit with her, play games with her, dance with her, do whatever she wanted to do as long as she kept looking at me with those open green eyes?
“Zoey your source?” he asked, and I sighed. Fynn was one of my best friends, I didn’t have to be on for him.
“Yeah, I don’t know, bro. I felt like crap about what I did earlier. I came here to apologize to her, and now I don’t know what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.” I took a good long drink of my beer, wishing it held all the answers. Glancing back at Fynn, I smirked. “I thought you and Braylen were just friends.”
“We are.” His tone was sharp, like I was arguing with him.
“Then what’s the problem?” I egged him on just because I could. The dude couldn’t see it, but everyone else could. Bray was perfect for him. They were perfect for each other. It was almost disgusting.
“Something’s off.”
“And?” I wouldn’t outright call him on being blind—it wasn’t my business—but I’d push him a little.
“And it bothers me. I don’t know where her head is at and I’m worried about her.”
I shook my head, my line of sight shifting to the room across from us. Damn. The sight of Braylen talking to another guy had all my best friend triggers flaring. I’d help Fynn in a brawl if need be, but I really hoped it wouldn’t come to that. “Looks like she’s doing fine to me.”
“What?” He followed my gaze, spotting Braylen and the blond guy having a too-close-for-Fynn’s-comfort chat. His eyes turned to slits and he clenched his fists, his entire body shaking.
