Falling into Place(37)

He tried to ignore it, but—God, those were some awful retching noises. He sighed and got out of bed and pulled his curtains aside to see a figure walking unsteadily through the park, which was really more of an overgrown field with a tetanus-ridden playground, by his house. Dammit. He had to be a good person now, didn’t he? He put on a jacket and went out to investigate.

He found Liz Emerson lying on the wood chips, shivering.

Liam just stared at her for a moment, wondering what the hell he had done to deserve this, a very drunk girl whom he’d had a crush on since fifth grade, half asleep and all alone beside his house.

Almost alone, he thought, and crouched down beside her.

Liz Emerson was generally a pretty person, but with her eyes bloodshot and dribbles of vomit still hanging on her chin, she was decidedly not tonight. She was not pretty, but there was something beautiful about her all the same.

“Damn it,” he said under his breath. “Damn it all. Liz?”

“Jake?” she asked groggily, and tried to kiss him.

Liam had spent many hours devoted to fantasies of kissing Liz Emerson, but in none of them had she smelled of puke and alcohol, and in none of them had she believed that he was Jake Derrick, so he declined. He propped her upright and held her by the shoulders when it became evident that she could not sit on her own.

“Liz,” he said. “Did you drive?”

“No, silly,” she mumbled. “Julia.”

“Damn it,” Liam muttered, looking closer at her eyes. “You’re not high too, are you? God. You are.”

Liz laughed muddily and tried to get to her feet. “Julia went home ’cause she’s too goody and stuff, an’ I told her Kennie’d take me home . . . but Kennie and Kyle are swallowing each other . . . so I’ll walk . . . s’all right . . .”

“Right,” said Liam, and pulled her up. “Okay. I’m going to drive you home.”

She made no reply, only leaned into his shoulder and passed out.

“Damn it,” Liam said again.

He walked a few steps like that, dragging Liz behind him, and then he gave in and picked her up. I am holding Liz Emerson, Liam thought, and then he thought it again because he couldn’t quite believe it. Liz Emerson is in my arms.

She was warm, and smaller than he’d thought she’d be.

He put her in the front seat of his beat-up LeBaron and briefly considered going inside to tell his mom about his late-night trip across town, but decided against it. She wouldn’t wake up, and he didn’t know how to explain, anyway.

“You . . . kidnapping me?” Liz mumbled as Liam backed out of his driveway.

“Depends,” he replied. “Are you going to puke in my car?”

She did.

“Damn it.”

They drove the rest of the way in silence. Liam knew where Liz lived—everyone knew where Liz lived. This, however, was the first time he had ever seen her house up close, and he didn’t know why the idea of going inside made him so uncomfortable.

He cleared his throat and said, “Liz, do you have your keys?”

She didn’t answer. Liam turned off the car and asked again in the silence, and then twice more before she finally slurred, “Doooormat.”

Liam got out of the car, and then went to the passenger side and dragged her out behind him. He climbed the steps with Liz limp in his arms and crouched awkwardly with her propped against his shoulder, and rummaged around until he found the key taped to the underside of the welcome mat.

“That,” he said, “is depressingly stupid.”

He heaved both of them up and unlocked the door, and fumbled for a light switch. Inside, the house was just as big as it had looked on the outside; beautiful, he supposed, all clean lines and sharp edges, but lonely, somehow. As he walked through the foyer, it struck him that perhaps the idiotic placement of the spare key was not the most depressing thing about this house, after all.

He tried to lower Liz onto a white couch in the living room but ended up kind of dropping her—he was tired, and Liam was not exactly well off in terms of upper body strength. Then he stood there and looked around, and when he looked back, Liz was untouchable again. This was where she belonged, and he did not.

So he left.

He was only halfway through the foyer when he heard her.

“Liam,” she sighed. “Thanks.”

He hesitated. He almost turned around, stayed with her.

Instead, he kept walking, through the high-ceilinged foyer and out the door. He turned off the lights before he stepped into the cold and left her to sleep in darkness.