“Someone’s single-handedly keeping Napa afloat,” Alexis muttered. She clearly couldn’t hold out for too long against her natural instinct to be an annoying little sister.
I tipped her wineglass at her. “You’rethe one who should be drinking. Come on. I want you to chug until everyone in this restaurant is attractive.”
“Oh, are you single?” Sarah asked. “I know lots of nice guys at work.”
Lobbyists are paid to be nice, which doesn’t count, I definitely didn’t say out loud.
Because that would have been mean, and here was the deal: Sarah was really, really fucking sweet. And smart. And funny. All through dinner, she’d asked interesting questions and said interesting things. Even if it was a side effect of her profession, I was sold. In another Ben-less life, we could’ve been friends.
“I just got out of a relationship. It was a really bad breakup.” Alexis looked down into her wineglass for a beat and then chugged it like a champ. “My boyfriend cheated on me with a coworker.”
Well. There it was, out in the open: the adultery of it all. Ben’s face turned bright red, and he looked down at his plate.
“That’s horrible,” Sarah said, patting Alexis’s hand. “My last boyfriend cheated on me, too. What about you, Stoner?”
She’d insisted on calling me by my nickname all night, even though we’d only just met. It was breeding a sense of familiarity that was both unearned and totally working on me.
“Anyone seen any good movies lately?” Ben asked, tugging at the collar of his shirt.
“Whataboutme?” I asked.
“Have you ever had an ex who cheated?”
Alexis snorted into her wine.
“What about Halloween?” Ben folded his napkin. “That’s coming up. Let’s go around the table and everyone can say what they’re going to be.”
Cheating exes—dangerousterritory. I carefully avoided Ben’s eyes. “There’s been...cheating. In the past. But I don’t do relationships anymore, so it’s not an issue.”
“Anymorebeing the operative word.” Alexis leaned in. “I can still remember the good old days when Lee literally kicked Andy Elliot down a flight of stairs after she caught him cheating.”
“I didn’t kick him.”
She waved. “Kicked, pushed, spooked. Whatever. The point is, he fell.”
Ah, Andrew Elliot. My college boyfriend and the Third Major Heartbreak. So kind of Alexis to bring him up.
I could see myself now: sophomore-year-of-college Stoner, newly transitioned out of my freshman-year goth phase—a fuck-you to the cold, cruel world that brought me my dad and Danny Erickson—and into my Tracy Flick stage. There were sweater vests, pleated skirts, polo shirts. There were a lot of hair flips. Most of all, there was my burning desire to climb to the top of the college political food chain. I was dying to conquer student government.
Enter Andy Elliot, the sitting treasurer. Even among the tens of thousands of undergrads at UT, Andy stood out. He was tall, blond and handsome, with a swimmer’s lean body. I’d never met anyone more naturally inclined to politics than Andy. He was next-level friendly and could remember anyone’s name after only meeting them once. He had a devoted fan club on campus. I’d melted under his star power, even as I took notes.
After a month of sitting next to him at student government meetings, making casual small talk and justhappeningto run into him at his frat parties on the weekends, I made my move.
“Andy?” I asked, after the meeting ended.
He turned that megawatt smile on me. “Lee. What’s up?”
“You wouldn’t be interested in running for president and VP with me, would you?”
His eyes lit up. “How did you know? I was actually looking for a girl to join my ticket. Shore up the sorority vote.”
“Right,” I said, trying to push down the butterflies as his eyes scanned me head to toe. “That settles it. We should campaign together.”
Andy stuck out his hand. “Welcome aboard, VP.”
Well. I had actually intended to run as president with Andy as my VP, but at that point, I’d already shaken his hand, so it felt like a binding deal. Andy was more popular, anyway. He seemed like a natural fit, so...it made sense.
From that point on, we started spending more and more time together, planning our platform, making posters, securing endorsements. The road wasn’t always smooth—I wanted to campaign on issues like raising the minimum wage for UT staff and getting the administration to commit to using 80 percent green power. Andy argued we needed to run on issues like getting better bands for Forty Acres Fest, and we could do the boring stuff once we got elected. I usually ended up folding because I worried Andy was right; and each time I did, things between us became harmonious again. Eventually, one thing led to another, and then one night, Andy pushed the markers and flyers off his desk and sat me atop it, kissing me with such verve it was like we’d just found out we’d won.
