I pull out my phone and reread the text Olivia sent me this morning.
Olivia:
Good morning!
Just as I’m staring at it, another pops up.
Olivia:
As much as I hate to admit it…I think you were right. Food truck tacos are way better.
My lip twitches, picturing my prissy girl eating food truck tacos. We argued for an hour the other night about the best food spots around, and when she admitted she’s never eaten anything from a food truck, I nearly fell over. I promised her I’d change her mind and prove how good that shit is.
My fingers tingle, wanting to text her back, but the rest of me just wants to feel bad and I don’t want to ruin her day with my shitty mood.
“Ellie’s going to come over and show us idiots how to do this right. Let’s order food first, though. I’m getting hangry,” Travis says, stepping back into the garage and waving us all inside.
Even though I don’t want to, I follow the guys into the house. We order food, and once it arrives, they scarf it down quickly because Ellie shows up. I don’t eat, but they know better than to try to force me.
We listen and do exactly what she says as she barks orders at us and moves us around like we’re her dolls. Telling us to act natural when she’s pointing her damn camera in our faces.
Somehow, we manage to get through, but it takes forever. I couldn’t be more relieved when it’s over.
“Okay, I’ll take this and edit it before I post it. Give me like…a few hours,” she says.
“Hours? That’s it?” Tanner asks, baffled.
“Yeah, I could do this in my sleep.”
I don’t miss the impressed faces of the other guys, but I don’t have the energy. Without a word, I slip inside and grab a beer from the fridge. A few minutes later, Travis drops onto the couch next to me.
“Everyone else leave?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the TV as I flip mindlessly through YouTube.
“Yeah. Wanna get fucked up?”
My head jerks around. He’s eyeing me cautiously, knowing I don’t like to get fucked up anymore. Today’s different, though. Harder.
I sigh. “Yeah, man, I do.”
He nods, then hops up and goes to his kitchen, coming back with a half-empty bottle of Jack and a blunt. I haven’t smoked in a while. I used to often, but once Pacey started having issues, I quit doing everything. I barely drink more than a few beers anymore.
He takes a swig from the bottle before passing it to me. I take a drink, then another, while he lights the blunt. He takes a hit, then we trade off, passing the bottle and joint until there’s nothing left of either. I don’t feel better, but I feel nothing, and that’s almost as good.
“I’m starving,” Travis says, rummaging through his fridge. “I don’t have shit here.”
“Tacos!” I yell, jumping from the couch.
He slams his fridge door shut, and his eyes get huge. “Fuck yeah! Let’s get tacos.”
Thirty minutes later, we’re in an Uber, going to the nearest taco truck. We order two of everything and eat it at record speed, so the driver doesn’t leave us.
Eating tacos reminds me of Olivia and the fact that I haven’t texted her all day. Before I can use my better judgment, I lean forward and give her address to the driver. Travis stares at me but doesn’t say anything, and when we pull up, he follows me to the door. I knock lightly, knowing it’s late and she’s probably asleep. Damn, why didn’t I think of that sooner? Does she have class tomorrow?
“Knock harder, dumb fuck.” Travis elbows me out of the way and bangs on the door.
I shove him and we stumble back laughing. We quickly straighten when the door opens, and an angry-looking Ellie stands on the other side.
“What the hell!” she whisper-shouts. “It’s two in the morning!”
