BEAST:Why does she want to know?
His text makes throbbing erupt in the pit of my stomach.
ME:Playing a drinking game at Rae’s. It was 1 of the questions.
BEAST:And the question was about me?
Kill me now…
“Conrad, your turn!” Jasper’s voice makes me drop my phone. I whisk it up before anyone can read my texts. Then I put it screen-side down in my lap. It vibrates as I say, “Never have I ever texted drunk.”
Everyone drinks, and it comforts me.
I flip my phone back over and read Ten’s message.Did you bike to her house?
ME:Maybe.
I’m expecting him to tell me not to cycle drunk, but he doesn’t message me again. I reread our chat. Why, oh why, did I ask Tennessee if he was a virgin? What’s wrong with me? I toss my phone into my bag before I stupid-text anyone else.
After another five rounds, I stand up to go to the bathroom. My head spins. I place a hand on the couch behind me, then stagger to the toilet. After peeing, I wash my hands and splash freezing water on my face. My mirror reflection comes in and out of focus.
I’m very drunk. Very, very drunk.Crap.Mom is going to flip.
I totter back out, scoop my bag off the floor, and hook it on my shoulder. “I should get home. Curfew,” I mumble. Way better than admitting I can’t see straight.
“Aw.” Rae pouts. “Call me tomorrow, hon.”
I give her a thumbs-up—I should probably have done something cooler, like wave. Is waving cool? I stumble through Rae’s twinkling backyard until I reach the light pole around which I secured my bike. I dig through my bag for the keys. I come up with a tube of lip gloss, a pair of sunglasses, and some quarters.
Frustrated, I squat and dump my entire bag on the sidewalk. My plastic doughnut key chain lands on top of an almost empty pack of chewing gum. As I shovel everything back inside, I grab a piece of gum and stick it in my mouth. I drop my bag into the basket, put my helmet on—backward at first, but then I get it right. After several attempts, I manage to insert my key in the lock. I think it’s a good thing I don’t drive, because I’m in no state to operate a big vehicle. I’m not sure I’m in any state to operate a small one for that matter. But I do need to get home, and walking will take way too long.
Plopping my U-lock on top of my bag, I think of my friends who are still at it. I hope none of them drive tonight.
I steer my bike onto the deserted street and hop on. A car honks, and my feet skid off the pedals, and then my bike tips.
At the same time that my heart plunges all the way down to my stomach, I swan dive into the asphalt. My gum gets jammed in my throat, and I cough until it stops obstructing my airway.
I tremble so hard I can’t tell if anything hurts after I stand. Blood trickles down my calf, but I quickly forget about it as a dusky figure, backlit by the beams of the car that honked at me, looms larger. The person looks like an angel.
I squint into the brightness. The headlights are like twin suns in a pitch-black universe. I turn away before they permanently damage my retinas. Thighs shaking like tambourines, I crouch to pick up the capsized contents of my bag.
“Are you insane?”
I recognize that voice. I tip my head up, and my helmet slides back, giving me a clear view of Ten’s scowling face.
“Seriously, Angie!”
My pulse flattens with embarrassment.
“Were you seriously going to bike all the way back to your house?”
“What are you doing here?” My voice is as wobbly as my legs feel.
“You can’t bike drunk!”
As I toss my stuff back into my bag, I moisten my lips. “I’m not drunk.”
“You’re right. You’rewasted.”
