Her dad chose to stop drinking alcohol at seventeen.
Alcoholism runs in the HaleandMeadows bloodlines. Just because I decided to never drink alcohol doesn’t mean my siblings or cousins will choose the same.
“Just be careful.” I dump pretzels in another bowl.
Sulli doesn’t sayI always am. Adventure andfearlessnessalso runs deep in her blood. As a Meadows, she grew up cliff-jumping into tropical oceans, riding Ducatis, and paragliding hundreds of feet in the air.
Instead, she tells me, “I know the risk.”
Sulli reaches for a bakery box that contains a dozen chocolate-covered donuts. We carry the assortment of food: pretzels, chips, buffalo poppers, Halloween candy, and a veggie tray. And weskillfullyclimb over the loveseat without spilling anything.
Akara, Quinn, and Farrow lounge on beanbags, radios set aside. So they’re seriously off-duty. They face the fireplace, television mounted above the mantel. I set the food on a green sleeping bag in the middle, and Janie yanks the cord to the ceiling light.
Blanketing us in near-darkness.
Farrow leans on a black beanbag, nearest the staircase. More off on his own damn island. Akara, Quinn, and even Janie who plops down near the food are clustered much closer together.
Farrow swigs a beer, eyes dead-set on me. He’s wondering what my next move is.So am I.I’m dying to sit beside him. But what kind of message is that sending to everyone else?
Hey, I’m fucking my bodyguard!
Orhey, I’m just good friends with my bodyguard.
Alright—the first one sounds like pure paranoia with a dash of overreacting. Before I step towards Farrow, Sulli places donuts next to the chips and curses, “Cumbuckets.”
“What?” I ask.
“I forgot the salsa.” She rests two fingers to her lips: the famous Sullivan Meadowsconcentrationface. And she’s using it for asalsacrisis.
“Sulli,” I snap. “It’s fine.”
“Do you have anything in your fridge? I could make some.” She can’t offer to make a grocery run since that’d entailneedinga sober Akara Kitsuwon.
“Forget the salsa, Sulli.”
“Uncle Lo says that it’s not a party until there’s salsa. It’s a party rule. Right?” She looks to Jane.
“Well…” Jane muses the idea for too long.
I cut in, “My dad could also eat five hot sauce packets for brunch and nothing else.”
“Famous ones,” Farrow calls out, and our heads turn to him. “There’snosalsa rule for parties. Not normal.”
Christ, the fact that we needed clarification fromFarrowmakes me pinch my eyes and groan. He smiles wide into his swig of beer.
“Come here, Sul.” Akara waves her to sit on the green beanbag beside him, the bowl of chips on his lap.
Sitting, she holds her legs to her chest but leans towards him.
“These are perfectly finewithoutsalsa.” He demonstrates and tosses a corn ship in his mouth. “Delicious.”
“You’re just saying that,” Sulli refutes.
“Am not.” Akara playfully pulls the bowl against his chest. “These are mine now, thanks.”
She smiles bright, and then tries to grab a chip. He hoists the bowl over her head. Teasing.
Teasing?
