“I sent the invitation to our email list this morning,” Theo tells Penn. “We’re already getting a great response. It’s going to be packed.”
“It’s going to be dark,” I wail.
“Ooh!” Theo brightens. “It can be a flashlight party. Should we buy staff headlamps?”
I press my fingers to my temples. This cannot be happening.
“Let’s hold off,” Penn says, raising a hand. “On all of it. We’ll talk to the electrician, get the place back in order, and you can let people know we’re delaying the event.”
“No,” I say, almost to myself. And then, louder: “No.”
Penn and Theo face me. Bridget’s at my side, eyes round with concern as I stand, sun-drunk and dizzy, my brain still backflipping through possible solutions to fix the game.
“The party has to happen this week,” I tell them. “We can’t keep delaying everything.” I look from Bridget to Theo to Penn, whose stony, closed-off expression jabs at my chest, a right hook to the heart. He’s staring at me like I’m a stranger. Like I really am from another universe. “We need people there…now…” I say weakly. “And I—I need to…”
Bridget reaches for me. “Are you okay?”
I keep looking at Penn. He turns away, his jaw set.
“Yeah. I just—I need a minute.”
Bridget tries to follow me upstairs, but I tell her I’m fine. To go have fun at the party. That I just need to rest.
I don’t even bother to change my clothes. I crawl into bed, listening as the party continues downstairs. Unfamiliar voices blend with familiar laughs. All the sounds are muffled, an entire world away, and tears trail down my temples as I wonder how and when and if I’ll ever get back to mine.
And, even worse: why some not-so-small part of me wants to stay.
19
Pants-less, Yet Again
It’s still nighttimewhen I wake up in a baggy T-shirt and bikini bottoms. My pulse is a steady beating on my skull, and my breath tastes like sour candy that’s spent approximately two centuries in a sewer.
I sit up, ecstatic to find a glass of water on my nightstand. A little heartbroken, too, over the sight of pretzels and Tylenol, because I know exactly who left them for me.
The clock says ten o’clock. The party must be over. I can hear music, though, so I head downstairs to the kitchen, where nineties alt-rock plays for a party of one.
Penn stands at the sink with his back to me. He’s wearing gray sweatpants and a faded green Lakeville Knights T-shirt. The kitchen is nearly spotless, with just a few garbage bags set in the corner. The streamers have been pulled down, beads aren’t hanging from the door anymore, and I no longer have the mystery-cocktail buzz that made it much easier to believe that I was a fun host today.
“Rum Ruby sucks,” I announce, just loud enough to be heard over the music.
Penn shoots a look over his shoulder, then turns back, continuing with the dishes.
I gnaw at the inside of my cheek, my eyes pricking with tears, as—oof—the “bad decisions” line flits back into my consciousness, along with the pained look Penn gave me afterward.
That wasn’t fair. Or kind. And I don’t have a reasonable way to explain myself.
I sidle up next to him and extend a hand. He eyes me sideways, so handsome it hurts. His five-o’clock shadow is perfectly grown out, and his hair curls over his eyebrows.
He hands me a plate to dry and sighs. “You really went for it today, huh?”
“I don’t know what I was going for,” I admit.
“The Party MVP title?”
“I shouldn’t have drunk so much. And I shouldn’t have—” I cut myself off, unable to put my problems into words. Unsure just how much to include on the Things I Shouldn’t Have Done list. “Sorry. It’s all been a lot. The Jeep, the diner…”
“I know,” Penn says quietly. He hands me a bowl to dry. “You don’t have to explain. We don’t have to make it weird, okay? I get it. You’re stressed, and we all make decisions that we—that we shouldn’t when we’re stressed. So.”
