Page 28 of The Girl with No Name

“No one does. That’s why it’s called a job. And Charlie here is joking. We’re driving there on Saturday. I have to work tomorrow.”

Dunn shakes his head. “Definitely not joking.”

“So you’re working tomorrow and you can’t go to Zach Bryan,” the redhead says. “What field do you work in?”

“Tech.”

“Ah. Tech boy.”

“Guilty.”

“Soo…you guys want to do something fun tonight?” Charlie chimes in.

“Like…?” the blonde asks.

“Looks like they’re wrapping up at the beer-pong table over there. Want to play?”

“Absolutely,” the brunette says. “Me and Vivian might just give you boys a run for your money.”

“We’ll see about that,” I shoot back.

The brunette’s phone flashes on the table.

Looking down, I see the words,Do Not Answeron the screen. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just my ex. He won’t leave me alone.”

“Oh.”

She lets the phone go to voicemail.

“So I don’t even know your name,” I tell her.

As the wind tousles her wavy hair, I catch sight of the full moon rising over the water, casting a mesmerizing glow.

“Like I told you, right now I don’t know it either.” She gives me a saucy look, but then adds, “A name’s a valuable commodity. I’ve learned not to share every bit of myself with every person I meet. And I’m not joking about this rebirth thing. I’m not there yet.”

Dunn waves us over to the beer-pong table, where he’s setting up the red cups with the blonde.

“Well, then,” I tell her, “I guess I’ll just call you the girl with no name.”

“The girl with no name. I kind of like that.” She smiles.

7

REED

“LATE JULY” – ZACH BRYAN

The next morning, I awaken to a relentless pulsing in my head.

I mean, this is a deathly hangover—the kind that feels like a throbbing drumbeat echoing through every fiber of your being, making you swear off drinking for life.

Surprisingly, the ache seems to originate in my legs, a dull pang that matches the rhythm of my pounding headache.

Rubbing my eyes open, I struggle to piece together the fragmented memories of the night before. Fuzzy recollections of beer pong and laughter swirl through my mind, mingling with the lingering taste of regret.

As the weight of the morning after settles upon me, I reluctantly become aware of my surroundings, despite the current assault on my body. This is worse than Montezuma’s revenge. This is red wine mixed with beer and Rumple Minze and tequila shots.

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