“I heard,” I told her, bending down to give her a hug. “Happy birthday.”
“Thank YOU!” She looked at Blake. “Who’s this?”
“Blake,” I said, stepping back so he could say hello. “He works over at the Club.”
“Blake from the Club,” she said cheerfully. “You want a beer?”
“Sure,” he replied. She slid off the cooler, opening it and taking out a can, which she handed him. Then she looked at me. “Saylor?”
We weren’t even in the party proper yet, still outside. But through the screen door ahead of me, I could see Vincent, messing with a speaker up on the fireplace mantel. Two girls dancing together, laughing. And in the kitchen, Hannah sitting on the counter, Roo right in front of her. She wassaying something, gesturing widely, as he listened, a smile on his face.
“Sure,” I said, keeping my eyes on them. “I’ll take one.”
“You don’t drink,” Blake said as Taylor handed me a dripping can as well.
“Not usually,” I said, popping the tab. “But it’s her birthday.”
“Hell YEAH it is!” Taylor yelled, hopping up and holding out her own beer to tap mine. “Let’s drink to THAT.”
She did, and I followed suit, even as I felt Blake’s eyes on me. While the beer was cold, it still tasted awful, making me wince as I swallowed it down. Still, with a last look at Roo and Hannah—or what I hoped would be—I forced another one. Then one more.
“We should dance,” I said to Taylor.
“Um, YEAH,” she replied, keeping up the streak of shouting every few words. “I have a playlist I made just for this moment. Seriously! Let me just—hey, Vincent! Don’t you dare pair your phone with that speaker. I’m not kidding!”
With that, she was opening the door to cross the floor to the fireplace, pulling her own phone from her pocket as she did so. Vincent, busted, slipped out the back door, leaving what I was pretty sure was, yep, heavy metal blasting behind him.
“Hey,” Blake said to me as we came inside. “I know I’m not your boyfriend, but watch it with the beer. It can hit you fast when you’re not used to it.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said, taking another sip. “I’m only having this one.”
And that was the plan. Just a few sips to loosen me up and take my mind off Roo and Hannah, as well as my dad. But as the alcohol began to hit, blurring the edges of this stressful day, and Taylor, after cursing Vincent loudly for a moment, put on a song with a whirly, pumping beat that Ryan, Bridget, and I loved, I was already thinking how another one would have to make me feel better. This would probably be the last party I’d attend on this side this summer. Or ever. I might as well make it one to remember.
“Isn’t this AWESOME?” Taylor shouted in my ear a little while later. We’d started dancing just by ourselves, then pulled in the other two girls who’d been moving solo as well as April, who was now doing the bump with vigor. The room suddenly felt packed with sweaty, moving bodies, the music barely audible, even though the speaker was right there.
I nodded—it was too hot to speak—taking a swig from my third (fourth?) beer before pressing it to my temple. The taste wasn’t bothering me anymore: really, nothing was. There was just the music and Taylor swaying in front of me, barefoot now, her own hair sweaty and sticking to her neck. I closed my eyes, thinking of my dad on the boat that day, shouting out orders to me when he knew I hated sailing. Telling Bailey my name was Emma, not Saylor.
“Whoa,” I heard someone say, just as I realized I was stumbling and had bumped into the person behind me. Iopened my eyes, but still felt dizzy as I stopped where I was to get my bearings. So hot. So loud. I pressed my can against my face again, but it was warm. And empty.
“There you are,” said another voice from behind me, but this one was familiar. That said, I didn’t realize it was Bailey specifically until I turned around to see her there. She had on a black maxidress, her hair pulled back, silver hoops hanging from her ears. “I’ve been looking all over!”
“We’re dancing,” I said, grabbing her hand. I went to spin, still holding it, feeling a flush creep up my neck—it was so hot—but then got tangled as she just stood there, elbow rigid, looking at me. “What?”
“Are you drunk?” she asked.
“No,” I said automatically. “I just had one. Or two.”
“Still two more than I’ve ever seen you drink,” she replied as I dropped her hand, moving into a shimmy as Taylor did the same beside me. “Let’s go get some air.”
“I’m fine,” I said, making a point to e-nun-ci-ate this carefully. “I’m just having fun, like you have basically every time we’ve gone out.”
“Yes, but that’s me,” she said, eyeing me as I stumbled. Wait,wasI drunk? Suddenly I wasn’t so sure. “Saylor. Come on. Now.”
She sounded strict, like a mother. Although not my mother. If anyone could understand blowing off a little necessary steam, it was Waverly. “I’m fine,” I told her. “Since when are you the party police?”
“Since I found you drunk for the first time, like, ever,”she said. And then, without another word, she grabbed my wrist and started to literally drag me toward the back door. Immediately, I resisted, surprising myself, yanking my arm from her. A bit too hard, as it turned out, because it flung back behind me, whacking Taylor, who was doing some low-down twist move, right in the face. I felt her eyebrows.
“OUCH!” she yelled, over the music and all the noise.
