“I’m sorry, Niks.” Guilt has cut through my fog of lust. We wasted time when we should’ve been looking for Sybil. “We were just about to start trying to find Sybil again.”
“Em, it’s okay.” Nikki’s voice softens, and she loops her arm through mine and steers me through the lobby toward the ladies’ room. Looking in the mirror, I catch a glimpse of what just a few minutes of kissing Finn has done to me. My lips are swollen, my cheeks are flushed, and the skirt of my brand-new dress is an accordion of wrinkles. Remembering how I got this way, I swallow past a wave of desire and try to press down the creases. “You’re allowed to take a moment for yourself once in a while. I’m just…” She pauses for a moment, but then presses on. “I’m just really worried aboutSybil. When we left LA, the Rains still hadn’t heard from her all day.”
I pull Nikki into a hug. She smells like citrus blossoms and mint. “She does this, Nikki. You know that. She’s okay.” I will myself to believe the words as I say them.
Nodding, she sniffles and pulls away.
Steeling myself, I say, “I have to tell you about something that happened in San Diego.”
“I know about the video, Em.” She straightens one of the straps of my dress. “A dozen people have sent it to me today.”
“Nikki, I’m so sorry.”
“I know you were just trying to look out for me.” Turning toward the mirror, she makes a quick appraisal of her own appearance. She nods, satisfied with what she sees, but then she deflates with a sigh. “And I know how infuriating Aaron can be. But you don’t need to take care of me. I’m a big girl.”
I nod, but something in me hurts. Because Ido. It’s my job to take care of the friend group—all of them. I really feel that, and I don’t want to let them down.
“I like this dress.” She brushes my hair from my shoulder, and then boops my stomach. “Let’s get back to your BOAT man.”
“Nikki!”
Nikki is the only person I’ve ever told about the hot-and-heavy pool make-out with Finn. Sybil and Willow were too close to the Prom Incident and knew too much about Finn, so I never felt like I could tell them. A week and half into the Europe trip, though, Nikki and I stayed up to finish a bottle of wine while everyone else went to bed. Overlooking the vineyard that Willow’s aunt owned, the smell of lavender driftingup to us, I couldn’t stop thinking about Finn. About that kiss. Drunk on rosé, new places, and making a new friend, I spilled everything. Nikki gasped at all the right moments, and when I finished she said, “So he’s your BOAT.”
“My what?”
“Best of all time,” she said with the slow seriousness of someone very drunk.
“Don’t you mean GOAT?”
“Who wants a goat when you could have a boat?” She emphasized her words with an overly enthusiastic wave of her hand, splashing most of her glass of wine on the gravel below. Devolving into fits of giggling, my angst over Finn eased as Nikki recast years of longing into very manageable boy drama.
“Maybe one day you’ll get back on his boat and sail off into the sunset.” She grabbed the bottle of wine to refill her glass. “Until then, lots of fish in the sea.”
LITTLE DID EITHER OFus know how right she was then. Because it was just a few years later that the night in New York happened… I feel myself breaking into a sweat just thinking about it now.
Finn rejoins us at the foot of the (fake) Eiffel Tower, and it looks like he’s taken the time to put himself to rights too—no evidence of my lipstick on his face, his sport coat only betraying a few new wrinkles. The three of us circle up to talk strategy, and I see that I have half a dozen missed texts from Nikki, and one from Liz from several hours ago.
The text from Liz is a selfie in my bathroom mirror of her in my clothes with the questionProfessional enough?
I’d hire you!I type back.
She sends back a blushing smiling face and an eye roll emoji.Networking went well! I’ll call you later!
With the sun now completely down, the air has dropped a few degrees. I shiver as we walk back toward Caesars. Finn takes note and starts to hand me his sport coat, an action that once again has my brain flashing like the neon signs of Vegas:DATE DATE DATE. I wave Finn off. The cool air is bracing, a much-needed shock to the system to refocus me on the task at hand. Finn slides back into his jacket, then says, “Hey, where’s my sweatshirt?”
“Don’t worry, it’s safe in here.” I pat the shopping bag.
“You have his sweatshirt?” Nikki asks.
“She stole it,” Finn supplies.
“Iwonit,” I correct.
“She tried to get naked in front of me. I figured if I gave it to her, she’d stay clothed.”
Nikki’s eyes widen then her lips curl up into a grin. “Seems like you’rebothtrying to get naked,” Nikki says, but it’s low enough that only I can hear it.
Clearing my throat loudly, I say, “Let’s call Willow and tell her what’s going on.”
