He holds up a lidded cup with a Starbucks label and smiles. “Go brush your teeth and splash some water on your face.”
“Graham, I look, and feel, like shit.”
He slips into my room. “Go on, it’ll help. How do you take your coffee?” He walks to the desk with the coffees, pulling packets of sugar and cream out of his pockets.
I sigh, unable to argue with a head full of cotton. “Gimme the works.” Obediently, I go into the bathroom and close the door behind me. I wash my face, brush my teeth, and pull my hair into a ponytail, avoiding the mirror as much as possible while doing so, which isn’t too difficult since my eyes refuse to open fully.
When I come out, he hands me the cup.
“How are you up, and feeling this—” I snap my fingers “—this… what’s the word…” I gesture towards him, then rub my eyes and sit on the bed.
“Unhungover?”
“That’s the word.”
“Well, I outweigh you by at least seventy pounds. That’s pretty much the secret.” He moves a pair of shoes from the desk chair to the floor and sits down.
“So you never get hungover?”
“I wouldn’t say that. But I took it easy last night while everyone else got plastered with the help of high school party games.”
“Didn’t have any fun, huh?” I say, taking a sip and closing my eyes.
“Last night was fun in its own way.”
“Meaning?”
He watches me, sipping his coffee and sitting back with one foot resting on top of the opposite knee. “Mmm. I’d like to know what you thought.”
“I’m just glad we didn’t play spin-the-bottle or… well, I’m not a fan of the whole, uh, kissing game concept…”
He sips his coffee, considering. “Yeah, me neither.”
“I thought guys liked those kinds of games.”
His lashes sweep down, hiding his eyes. “I’m not really a games sorta guy.” I think about that while he sips his coffee, and then, in what I’m starting to realize is a typical maneuver for him, he changes the subject completely. “Think you might be up for brunch and some shopping?”
A guy who wants to shop? “You aren’t going to lure me into a sporting goods place or a comic book store, are you?”
“I was thinking bookstore. But if you’re into comics…”
“No, please. Bookstore yes; comics no.” I briefly dated a guy last year who was into comics. He never stopped talking about them, even when I threatened to start talking about Gilmore Girls reruns. I know more about comic books than any girl ever wants to know.
“Finish your coffee, get ready, and I’ll be back in, say, forty-five minutes?” He stands and moves towards the door.
As I shower, I realize that Graham completely sidestepped my question about his comment that last night was “fun in its own way.” I’m definitely not running on all cylinders, as my father would say.
My phone is recharged and flashing when I get out. There’s a text from Emily answering what I sent her last night:
Me: er oksyrf * becer smf o ;rgy brfpre dpom tnr vorrle
Em: I assume, from your text, that drinking was involved. Hello? Something I can READ???
I text her back and she answers immediately.
Me: Sorry, tequila attack. The keypad kept moving around.
Em: You promised to tell all. Start telling!
Me: What i meant last night was we played i never, and i left before spin the bottle
Em: WHAT??? HOLY SHIT!!! Calling you.
“You guys seriously didn’t play I never and spin-the-bottle did you?”
“Yes and almost.”
“Somehow I’ve always pictured celebrity parties as more… sophisticated?”
I laugh. “Yeah, me too. I left when Quinton suggested spin-the-bottle or seven minutes in heaven.”
“Are you insane? There was a possibility of seven minutes in heaven with Quinton Beauvier, and you left early?”
“Em, you know how I feel about those games…”
“Yeah, I know. I just don’t see why I can’t body-double for you during times like this! It would be a grueling task, but I’d make the sacrifice for you.”
I recognize Graham’s one-knuckle thunk-thunk at the door.
“Um, I’m about to go to brunch, so I’ll call you later?”
“Sure. Don’t worry about me. All by myself in boring Sacramento. Alone. No life.”
“Emily, you know you’re always with me in spirit.”
“Bite me,” she says. “I wanna be with you in person playing spin-the-bottle with Reid and Quinton.”
“Now who’s whining?” I tease.
“Fine. But one of these days, I expect to reap the benefits of having a big star for a best friend.”
“Absolutely. You’ll be first in line.”
Chapter 14
REID
I wake up just before noon and call room service for coffee, then my voicemail to retrieve a message received early this morning from Dad. Like he didn’t know I’d still be asleep when he called.
I got charged with pot possession earlier this summer, and he’s avoided communicating with me directly since then. I was at a party, passing a couple of joints around with some people when John texted me this:
John: pass the joint to the girl next to you and walk to the back door NOW
While John may lack anything resembling judgment, he always knows what’s going down. So I obeyed. He pulled me into the alley where his girl du jour was waiting with her car, just as the police came in the front door. There were photos of me smoking, but it was dark, and they were too indistinct to be incontestably me, or weed, for that matter. With no physical evidence to prove that I was present or in possession, Dad’s firm claimed hearsay and the case was thrown out… which didn’t preclude Dad from going ballistic.