The Best Laid Plans(73)
“Can I have some of that actually? I changed my mind.”
“Be my guest.” He gives it to me. I pour it into a cup with a little margarita mix and then wince as I bring it to my lips. “It’s not poison,” Chase says.
“Actually, it sort of is.” I take a sip, expecting to shudder in disgust like I did with the whiskey, but it’s surprisingly good. Dangerously good. I suddenly understand why people sing upbeat, beachy songs about margaritas. I know I’m going to have to drink it really slowly or it will hit me fast.
I glance back and see Andrew tucking a lock of hair behind Danielle’s ear and something clenches in my gut. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. My gut was perfectly fine before the stupid Plan.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” I turn to Chase suddenly. If there’s ever going to be a time to get information out of him, it’s now, when we’re on the same side.
“Yeah, Collins, shoot,” he says. “You’ve seen me ass naked, so at this point what’s left to hide?”
“Did you write the notes?”
“What notes?”
I shake my head. “I mean that thing on the wall of the lounge. About Danielle.”
“Fuck no,” Chase says, and I believe him. “I would never be a dick like that.”
“Okay, but then why did you tell everyone you slept with her?” I take another sip of my drink and feel the heat of it spreading down my chest, making me more confident. I don’t know if maybe I’ve crossed a line and he’ll get mad, but at this point, I don’t really care anymore. Surprisingly, he just shrugs.
“I fucked up,” he says. “I shouldn’t have told Ryder. I’ve known the kid since kindergarten and I know he has a big mouth. But he’s my best friend. When you finally get with the girl you like, aren’t you allowed to tell your best friend?”
I think about all the personal things I’ve ever told Hannah, how upset I was learning that Andrew hooked up with Danielle and didn’t tell me. How can I be mad at Chase for spilling a secret he was excited about when it’s something we all do?
“You like her?” I glance over to the couch where she and Andrew are sitting. Of course he does.
“It’s too late now,” he says, following my gaze. “I blew it.”
“Ryder blew it,” I say. “You’re right—she can’t fault you for telling somebody. You’re not the one who told the whole school. Why didn’t you say something to him?”
“To Ryder? We’re in the final sprint of high school. Just ride it out, Collins.” He clinks his tequila bottle against my cup. “After next week, we’ll never have to see any of these people ever again.” Then he smiles and walk away, slinging his arm around Cecilia, who’s just come into the room and is scowling in the direction of the couch. It strikes me that even though I’ve seen him naked, I don’t really know Chase at all.
I make my way over to Hannah, and I can tell she’s tipsy. Her cheeks are flushed pink, her bangs messy.
“Keely!” she shouts when she sees me, like it’s been three years instead of three hours. “Happy last day of finals!” She’s with Molly Moye, the two of them swaying back and forth to the beat of some old Ariana Grande song.
“What have you been drinking?” I like the feel of her next to me, warm and secure.
“All of it,” she answers, bopping me on the nose.
“Are you excited for tomorrow?” Molly asks me. She holds her drink out in the direction of mine and I tap my cup against hers and take another long, tangy sip. I start to nod, about to say something about prom and how it’s a moment and all of the other phrases I’ve been forcing through my head for the last week or so, but I realize all of a sudden that no—I’m actually not that excited for tomorrow. When I think of tomorrow night, I don’t think of prom itself, of dancing with my friends, celebrating the end of school, the final few moments we’ll still be together. All I can think about is the hotel room that Dean and I got for afterward, the moment when we’ll both be undressed, right on the edge. The moment that I promised him.
Losing your virginity is supposed to be exciting, right? Tomorrow night is making my stomach swoop, but not like it’s full of butterflies. More like it’s full of gas. But I don’t want to think too much about it right now, so I take another long sip of my margarita and I lie to Molly.
“I can’t wait.”
She lights up like a Christmas tree and loops her arm through Hannah’s so we’re all linked together, like a drunken daisy chain.
“Me too,” she says.
“Me three,” Hannah agrees.
“I’m going to miss you guys next year,” Molly says, and maybe it’s just the alcohol that’s got us feeling all sentimental, because I barely know Molly Moye. Well, that’s not true. I know all of the facts about Molly: she’s dating Edwin Chang, she’s played field hockey since fifth grade, she’s going to Dartmouth in the fall. But knowing these details about Molly’s life doesn’t mean I know what’s going on inside her. And yet, when she says she’s going to miss me, I understand what she means. Because I’m going to miss Molly too. She’s part of my ecosystem. I’m used to her life orbiting mine, like she’s always just on the edge of my vision. And I know after we graduate—after summer is over, when I go off to California, and Hannah leaves for New York, and Molly for New Hampshire, I’ll probably never see Molly Moye again.