Lane shrugs. “We need to start thinking ahead, buddy. This year’s going to fly. But don’t sweat it—we still call the shots. You can even haze the newbies if you want.”
“There’s that new girl, too,” Lois reminds them. “The one with the amazing car. What was it you said?” She pauses. “?‘Fresh as hell rims’?”
Donovan pipes up. “Pontiac Firebird.”
I don’t know what or who the hell they’re talking about. Who is this chick? Seeing how his face lit up when he mentioned the car, maybe she’s his type. I should try to hook them up—I bet they have a bunch of stuff in common. They could degrease engines together. Bond over changing tires. Fall in love on the road.Just shut up and drink, Carrie.
“Is this the part where I go ‘sick, man’?” Lois asks.
“Something like that.”
“Sorry, but I just feel like… you see one car, you’ve seen ’em all.”
“You take that back!” Lane wags a finger at her, before planting a kiss on her cheek.
“Please, God, no! No more PDA!” Lewis covers his eyes.
Donovan stares at them for a moment, before shifting his attention back to me, and for a split second, we lock eyes. I turn away.There’s something there. Something in the way he’s looking at me that wasn’t there before.Okay, I’m officially losing it.Kissing him has fried my brain.
I gulp down some more beer.
“A girl on the Campus Drivers team? So cool!” Jeff cuts in.
“No!” Lewis growls. “It’s a guy thing. This would completely blow our rep with the ladies.”
Lois snorts. “How’s life back there in the fifties, Lewis? Absolute disgrace, dude.”
“Hey, that’s my line!” he snaps. “I’m just not ready for all this change, that’s all.”
He pouts, and I’m half expecting him to throw a tantrum—toddler-style.
Once Lane eases us back onto more neutral ground, the rest of the night flows nicely. My attitude to friends is no different to how I feel about partners—opening up is a big deal to me. But now as I glance around the table, the alcohol seems to be working its magic. I’m chatting away, laughing and drinking, slapping Lewis down whenever I get the chance, hotly debating the merits of a niche movie with Lane—one nobody else has ever heard of. The only person I studiously ignore is Donovan.
When I jump up to head to the restroom, I’m swaying on my feet. He scrapes back his chair and makes to stand. I wave him back down, but I can feel his gaze burning between my shoulder blades as I pick my way across the bar—and that’s when I realize I’m completely, hopelessly fucked. He’s nothing like what I thought he would be—and the worst part is, I actually found myself missing our verbal sparring tonight. The more I push him away, the closer I feel to him. Somewhere along the way, he’s eased his way into the cracks, carving out space for himself in my perfect little life. How did that happen? Ineverlet anyone in. I never have.
Perched on the edge of the toilet seat, I run through all the fucked-up family examples I have right here at my fingertips. How screwed up my mom got, what my dad did…
I head back to the table, with renewed resolve to forget all about those stupid feelings. I try to slip back into the vibe, but the alcohol’s finally hitting.
“I’m checking out!” I announce, rubbing my eyes. “I’m seeing double—and two Lewises is way too much for anyone to handle.”
He pulls a pretend-hurt face. “You’re a meanie, Carrie Wolinski. If you guys ever get married and the pastor does his whole ‘Does anyone know a reason why…’ thing, I’m definitely speaking up.” He shakes his head at Don. “I expected better from you, dude.”
I roll my eyes. “And on that note… Have a good night!”
“I’ll drive her home,” Donovan says, springing out of his seat.
Nuh-uh.
“I don’t think so,” I mutter as I wrestle with my jacket.
He raises an eyebrow at me. “Really?”
He snatches the coat off me, holding it up for me to shrug on. I’m feeling so much right now, and it’s only making me drunker.
I really need to get home.
“I’m not wasted, you know.”
