She Drives Me Crazy(38)

“It’s fine, Scottie,” she says, brushing my apology away. The way she says my name is comfortable and worn. “I’m not the only one dealing with a toxic fallout.”

My heart pangs, remembering Tally at the party tonight. “Yeah. I guess.”

I want to talk more, but Danielle and Honey-Belle barge in with their tray of nachos. Irene sits up and forces enthusiasm, and I remember what she said leaving Charlotte’s tonight. I’m tired of thinking. I’m tired of acting.

For once, I don’t call her on it. We kick back in the hot tub and feast until we’re wrinkled as prunes.



* * *



When it’s time for bed, Honey-Belle surprises us by offering her bedroom.

“Oh no—” Irene and I say together.

“Really, I want you to have it!” Honey-Belle insists, grasping our hands. “Danielle and I can sleep in the bunk bed room.”

Behind her, Danielle struggles to hold a straight face. I can see the laugh fighting to burst out of her.

“Honey-Belle, don’t be a martyr,” Irene says urgently. “You love your bed.”

“And I also love you,” Honey-Belle says, tugging on a loose tendril of Irene’s hair. “And your girlfriend.”

Irene looks pointedly at me, but I’m at a loss for how to get out of this one.

“Sounds cozy,” Danielle pipes up. “You guys can snuggle up and whisper sweet nothings while you fall asleep. What could be better?”

I shoot her the most intense death glare I can muster, but she just grins.

“So it’s settled, then,” Honey-Belle says brightly. “Let me get you some cozy pj’s to make the snuggling even better.”



* * *



Sometime later, I find myself standing in the middle of a bedroom that is unmistakably Honey-Belle’s. There’s an entire wall of stuffed animals, most of which are unicorns. I count nine different music boxes atop the dressers, desk, and nightstand. The sleigh-style bed is covered with a fluffy yellow comforter beneath a high white canopy.

Irene moves to stand on the opposite side of the bed, eyeing it like a sewer she’s dreading climbing into. I step up to my side and wait. There’s a swell of silence as we delay the inevitable.

“Fuck,” I say finally.

“Hmph,” she snorts in agreement.

“You couldn’t convince her to put us in the bunk bed room? She’s your friend.”

“This is your stupid scheme, and I didn’t see you making any effort.”

I shake my head. “It’s impossible to argue with her. It’s like upsetting a baby.”

“Don’t patronize her.”

“I’m not, but you know what I mean.”

“You definitely are, but whatever.” She snatches her pajamas out of her duffel bag in a way that suggests the conversation is over. I lay my borrowed pair out on the bed. We both go still. There’s another swell of silence.

“Nervous to change in front of me, snookums?” I ask.

“Do you always project your neuroses onto other people?” She slips her towel off her body and I roll my eyes so I won’t accidentally look at her bare skin. She turns away to change, but glances back at me at the last second. “Don’t you dare creep on me.”

“Right, ’cause that’s what I’m thinking. I’d rather creep on a bunch of boys.”

“Funny,” she huffs, spinning around. She starts to pull off her bathing suit straps; her back muscles move in the dim light. I wonder how it would feel to press my lips to the nape of her neck—

No. Stop.

I squeeze my eyes shut and turn hastily around. I slip into my borrowed set of pajamas—a soft blue shirt with a ribbon at the collar and a pair of candy cane-striped bottoms. The only sound is the heavy thwap of our damp bathing suits hitting the floor. My heart won’t stop thumping in my neck.

Just as I’m pulling my hair out of my shirt, Irene clears her throat.

“Are you finished?”

“Yes.”

She turns around. Her eyes flicker briefly over my pajamas, but she doesn’t say anything, just gathers her toiletry bag. I stay quiet as she slips out of the room.

I’m not going to wash my face or brush my teeth alongside her, so I plop down on the bed and wait. I glance at her phone lying innocently on the bedside table and try to imagine what her pass code might be. I tell myself it’s probably 666, but the joke doesn’t amuse me the way it normally would. It’s been a weird, confusing night.

The last person I shared a bed with was Tally. It was summertime and her parents were out of town. We held each other beneath the sheets, and my heart pulsed at every touch of her skin. But that was months ago—long before she made out with another girl at a party, long before I set up a dating ruse to make her jealous.

Would I have rejected her for having garlic breath tonight? I know the answer immediately: No. I loved her too much.

But would she have rejected me?

“I knew you were the type to fall asleep without brushing your teeth first. Gross.”

Irene comes swooshing back into the bedroom, her loose pajama shirt hanging over her black joggers. I swallow down the unexpected emotion in my throat and try to level a retort her way.

“Are you wearing a retainer?” I shoot back. “God. Please don’t breathe in my direction tonight.”