She Drives Me Crazy(39)

“I’m sure you’ll smother me with a pillow if I do. You’d better hurry if you want to beat Honey-Belle. She takes forever in the bathroom.”

I grab my things and hustle out of the room, glad for an excuse to be alone again. I use the spare toothbrush Honey-Belle gave me, noticing how Irene has squeezed the toothpaste so it perfectly curls at the empty end. Freaking weirdo. I wash my face and take several deep breaths to clear my head.

When I slip back into Honey-Belle’s bedroom, Irene is tucked beneath the covers, playing on her phone. Her hair hangs long and wavy, the sides of it brushing her glasses. I had no idea she wore glasses.

“You’d better not touch me,” she says as I crawl into bed.

“In what universe would I touch you?”

“You look like a hand-grabber. Or a footsie freak.”

“No chance, weirdo.” It’s a lie: I was always grabbing for Tally’s hand when we shared a bed. I really hope I don’t subconsciously try that tonight. “What are you holding?”

The slightest patch of color blooms in her cheeks. She keeps her eyes glued to her phone. “Nothing.”

It looks like an old T-shirt, or maybe just a rag. She has it tucked under her arm in a way that suggests regular habit.

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Shut up,” she mutters, but she doesn’t say anything more.

“No, really,” I say, rolling my head toward hers. “What’s the story?”

She’s silent for an annoyingly long minute. “It’s my mom’s old shirt. She let me nap with it when I was little.”

“Why?”

“Because it was soft,” she says irritably. “Why do you care?”

I shrug, unperturbed. “I just think it’s funny when you’re weird.”

“Everyone’s weird.” She rolls away and turns off the light. “Goodnight. Touch me and you die.”

The way she says it, it’s almost like she’s trying to make me laugh.

“Sweet dreams to you, too.”

It takes me a while to fall asleep. I can feel Irene struggling, too. It feels too intimate, too revealing, to sleep alongside each other like this. I’m too attuned to her breathing cycle, to the sound of her cheek finding the cold part of the pillow. I’m too aware of the smell of her hair, only inches from my face.





11


I wake up too early, like 7:00 A.M. early. The blue-white light is peeking through the curtains, and the room is quiet and calm. Irene is sleeping on her stomach, her mom’s old shirt clutched against her side. Her wavy hair fans across the pillow. Of course she looks attractive even when she’s asleep.

I slip out of bed and sneak down to the kitchen, hoping to find some bread I can toast, but I’m not alone like I’d hoped.

Honey-Belle is there, sitting cross-legged at the table, scrolling through her phone with her hair sticking up at odd angles.

“Scottie!” She beams. “How’d you sleep? Did you like my air purifier?”

“We didn’t use it,” I say apologetically. In the back of my brain, I notice how weird it is to say we. I help myself to the bread box and find cranberry jelly in the refrigerator.

“I’m so glad Irene has you now,” Honey-Belle tells me when I sit down. “She needed a win after everything that happened last year.”

My ears perk up. “You mean with Charlotte?”

Honey-Belle winces. “I know she might seem hung up on her, but I promise she likes you. I can tell. She talks about you all the time. ‘Oh, Scottie has two sisters. Scottie killed it at practice yesterday. Scottie loves this song.’”

I almost choke on my toast. “Really?”

“Don’t be a goof,” Honey-Belle says with a little laugh. “It’s nice to see her with someone who takes care of her. Irene is super loyal. If you’re one of her people, she’ll do anything for you. And I’m sure you’ve figured out that she’s a total romantic, even if she denies it. I mean, her favorite movie is Dirty Dancing. She plays that song from the end over and over again. So cheesy.”

The irony of Honey-Belle calling something cheesy is not lost on me. “Right.”

“Oh my gosh,” Honey-Belle says suddenly. “You know what we have to do? A double date! You can set me up with Gunther!”

“Oh … yeah?”

“It’ll be perfect! How about next weekend?”



* * *



We leave as soon as Danielle and Irene wake up. The rival college football games are on today and we want to watch them with our families. Irene rushes us out so she can catch the Georgia/Georgia Tech game with her dad, but first, she pours a thermos of coffee. For each of us.

The moment we drop Danielle off, I turn to Irene and word vomit.

“Honey-Belle cornered me into a double date. You, me, her, and Gunther. I was so shocked I couldn’t say no.”

Irene’s head rolls slowly in my direction. “So?”

“So … that’s … you’re fine with that?”

She sighs wearily. “We’ve already dug ourselves this deep. Might as well go a little deeper.”

I tap my fingers on the coffee thermos she poured for me. She knew to add cream, but not sugar. She takes a relaxed sip of her own thermos and stretches back in my passenger seat like she’s done it a million times.