Open Road Summer(26)

“This is bad.” I place my hands against the top of my hair. “This is so bad.”

“Eh.” Matt shrugs. “She’ll feel like hell in the morning, but she’ll be fine.”

We both watch as Dee sways delightedly, limbs rubbery with tipsiness.

I lower my voice, leaning toward Matt. My panic even supersedes my desire to make out with him up against this building wall. “What if someone realized it was her and got a picture or a video? It would be my fault. I shouldn’t have left her by herself inside.”

“Hey.” He turns to me. “It’s my fault. I invited you, got your names on the list, and persuaded Peach to let you come.”

“She’s my best friend.” I say this more to myself than to him. “I’m supposed to be there. What if we hadn’t come back in time? That creep gave her alcohol after she explicitly said she doesn’t drink.”

“I know, but it’s all right now.” He gestures at Dee. She’s stopped dancing and is staring straight up at the night sky, her faux brunette locks tumbling down her back. Matt studies her, and I can guess what he’s thinking: Is she really so naive, to drink something that a stranger handed her at a bar? The answer is yes. Although it won’t be after tonight.

“Dee assumes that everyone has good intentions,” I tell him, even though he didn’t ask.

“That’s Mack.” Matt motions toward the approaching black sedan. The car pulls to a stop in front of us, and the passenger-side window rolls down.

“Mack!” Dee shrieks delightedly, throwing her arms open as if hugging the entire car.

Mack looks from Dee to me and shakes his head. “Peach is going to murder you.”

“I know,” I shoot back.

“Come on, come on.” Matt guides her into the open car door. I climb in behind her, and Matt jumps in the front seat.

“You,” Dee says, leaning over onto me, “are my best friend.”

I nod, patting her head. “Yep.”

“This night was so fun.” She sighs and lays her head on my lap. “I wish we could trade lives.”

“Now you’re talking crazy.”

“You get to have all the fun. You get to do whatever you want and get in trouble, and I have to be perfect all the time. I’m not perfect.”

“I think you’re pretty close,” Matt says quickly, saving me from responding to such a ridiculous comment. Dee laughs but stops short, the sound falling off unnaturally.

“Jimmy doesn’t think so,” she says, a quiver in her voice. In mere seconds, she’s transitioned from cheerful-drunk to weepy-drunk. I lean my head back on the headrest and mouth SHIT to no one in particular. Dee continues babbling. “I loved him, but he didn’t want to be with me.”

“Let’s not talk about it right now.”

“Okay,” she says sullenly.

There are a few minutes of silence as Mack steers us into the hotel’s parking garage. I have the key to the service elevator in my purse, so we can enter unnoticed. Dee struggles against my attempts to help her out of the car and into Matt’s waiting arms.

“I can do it myself.” Her voice is indignant, but she leans heavily against him.

“We know you can.” I rub my fingertips against my forehead, massaging the stress headache that’s forming quickly. Dee’s tipsiness is an honest mistake, but Peach will lay into us both if she finds out.

Dee digs around in her purse and muses out loud, “Maybe I should call Jimmy. . . .”

“No,” Matt and I say in unison.

“Give me that,” Matt commands.

Jutting out her lower lip, Dee drops her phone into Matt’s open hand. “You are the meanest fake boyfriend ever.”

When the elevator opens onto the top floor, Matt steps out with us even though his room is a floor below. Dee rests her whole body against him while I search for my room key.

“Can you get her inside without me in case Peach is still awake?” Matt asks.

“Look at me,” I demand, snapping at Dee. Her eyes aren’t focusing as clearly as usual. “Can you try your very best to act sober for the next minute?”


“Yes.” She nods solemnly, as if agreeing to a formal contract. She stands up straight and smooths her hair. As if to prove she’s good on her word, Dee walks to the door, arms out like she’s on a tightrope. She turns to us and bows, ever the entertainer.

“I think you’re good,” Matt tells me. “I’ve gotta head back to the club to get my stuff.”

“Right.” I follow Dee toward the door, but I turn back. Matt’s still standing by the elevator, waiting to make sure we get in okay. “Um. Thank you. For getting her out to have some fun. And for helping get her home safe.”

“You’re welcome.” He doesn’t say anything more, and the words hang there, feeling oddly formal.

“Reagan,” Dee says in a stage whisper. “Come on.”

“I’m coming,” I say, hurrying toward her. Tonight was a series of questionable-at-best choices, but I still feel my mouth forming a small smile. I open the door for Dee and can’t resist a glance back at Matt. He has the same smile on his face as he waves good night.





Chapter Seven