She Drives Me Crazy(54)



“Why were you talking to Charlotte?” she asks. I can hear that yearning in her voice, that desperate need to be worthy. A combination of resenting me and living vicariously through me. Is that what I’ve been doing to her, too?

“She was talking to me. Listen, can we get out of here?”

“But we just got here,” Tally says. She sounds drunk all of a sudden. “Don’t you wanna meet my friends? Aren’t you having fun?”

I look around. The basketball girls have ditched us. Everyone else is oblivious to our presence; one guy literally knocks Tally’s shoulder and keeps walking. Is this how it’s been for her lately? If I had known a week ago, it would have given me a sick validation. Now I just feel bad for her.

“How about we take a break, just for a minute?”

Tally looks around, too. I can tell the exact moment she realizes we’ve been shut out, because she adjusts her leather jacket and avoids my eyes.

“Come on,” I say gently. “Let’s find somewhere quiet and talk.”



* * *



Upstairs, we find an open loft that serves as some kind of TV room. I guide Tally to sit on the couch with me, our knees barely bumping through our jeans. We face the bay window that looks over the dark backyard. Tally takes another swig from her drink. I study the expression on her face, the dullness in those once-bright eyes.

“Are you sure you’re happy, Tal?” For once, I’m not asking for myself. I’m genuinely concerned about her.

“No. I feel like shit,” she mumbles. “I don’t like any of these people. I don’t trust any of them the way I trust you.”

That feeling of compassion comes over me again. I want to comfort her. I can’t remember why I ever resented her.

“I hated watching that video,” Tally continues. “You and Irene kissing at the Emporium. Felt like someone clawed my organs out. I couldn’t stop watching even though it made me sick.”

I breathe and take her hand to comfort her. “I know. I felt the same way watching you kiss that girl at Charlotte’s party. It’s been hard for both of us.”

“I don’t know how you moved on so fast. One second I’m talking to you after the demo game, and the next, you’re dating this total bitch.”

I flinch. My hand goes cold in hers.

“You became someone I don’t know anymore.” She swallows and wipes her eyes. “I thought I knew you. I thought we loved each other.”

I have a sudden, strange sensation that I’m outside my own body. I’ve had nothing to drink, but my brain feels foggy and detached. How did I get to this place, sitting on the leather couch of this elaborate mansion in Candlehawk, actively trying to hurt the girl I loved and sacrificing my own integrity in the process?

“Tally … I should go. I don’t belong here.”

Tally shakes her head. Her drink sloshes onto the carpet. “No, Scottie, please stay. You’re the only person I care about.”

“No, listen, we should leave. This party isn’t a good place for you.” I give her hand a small tug, but she doesn’t move.

Tally sniffles. She’s legitimately crying now. “Do you still love me?”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Please, Scottie?” she begs, her drunken eyes on mine. And then, before I can react, she pushes into me and kisses me. Hard.

At first I’m frozen. Then my body wakes up. I’ve fantasized about this moment a million times. One last chance. One last kiss. She tastes like liquor, but her lips are warm and familiar beneath mine. I press back against them. She opens her mouth and brushes her tongue against mine.

No. Stop. This isn’t what you want anymore.

“Tally, I can’t,” I say, pushing her away. I wipe my mouth with a shaking hand. What the hell am I doing? Why am I still sitting here? I’m desperate to go home, but I can’t leave her. Not when she’s this drunk. Not when she’s this alone.

“Come on, Tal,” I say, pulling her off the couch.

Downstairs, everything is rowdier than it was before, louder and less controlled. In the shadowy parlor, a group of people is bent over a coffee table, no doubt snorting something. In the main room, some guy is pissing on the vine wall as his friends laugh like hyenas.

I help Tally into her coat, guide her out the back door, and settle her in my car. She falls asleep immediately, and I feel a bittersweet pang when I glance at her in the passenger seat, the way I’ve done a million times before. I drive her home and nudge her awake on the street outside her house. She blinks awake, bleary-eyed and confused. She doesn’t hug me; she merely nods and clambers out of my car.





16


Danielle schedules a warm-up practice for the Friday before the new semester starts. It’s a nice way to ease back into school after the craziness of the holidays, and I’m ready to have a basketball in my hands and nothing on my mind except the game.

Until I walk into the gym and realize Irene has scheduled cheerleading practice for the same time.

It’s the first time I’ve seen her since our Christmas Eve kiss, and my initial glimpse of her is a moment where somebody has clearly made her laugh, because her face is one big, radiant smile. She’s gotten a haircut—just a few inches that shows in the length of her ponytail—and she’s wearing a vintage Tears for Fears tank over her leggings. Even though she’s sweaty and messy and not wearing any makeup, my breath catches when I look at her.

Kelly Quindlen's Books