Page 2 of A Night to Remember

“Allison? Is that you?” No answer.

“Alli?” I call more loudly.

“Urgh! No! Fuck off!”

O-kay. I take a deep breath. Door number two: bathroom. Puke on bathmat. Door number three: more teenage mating, but again (“Shut the DOOR!” my chem lab partner screams) not Alli. Door number four: weeping girls. Urgh.

“And so I showeda moment’s hesitation—I just really had to piss, you know?—and I come back and he’smaking outwith Mandy Sanchez. Like literallysucking her face off. She wasn’t even in theroomwhen I left,” Chloe Gernsheimer rages.

“What a turd,” Sophie Bender says supportively.

“I know, right? Like how did that even happen? Did she just open the door and fall on his dick? Oh, hey, Kayla.” Chloe turns a weeping, red-eyed face towards me.

“Have either of you seen Allison?” I ask, barely stepping into the room to avoid getting embroiled in the drama.

“No, but did you hear aboutthe total dick movethat Ryan Hutchinson just pulled? He was talking to meall nightand then I went to the bathroom forone minute?—”

“Are you the one who puked in there?” I ask.

“—and now he’s probablystilleating Mandy’s face,” she finishes, ignoring my question.

“I hope he gives her crabs,” Sophie says vindictively. “Itchy, creepy, blood-munching crabs. Right?” She looks to me for back-up.

“Well, actually, I don’t really thinkMandydeserves—nope, forget it, I gotta go. I’ll see you guys later.”

As I extricate myself, I hear Chloe shout tearfully to the world at large, “What was I supposed todo?Pee my pantsso Ryan could eatmyface? Givemecrabs? Are these really my choices?” I head back down the stairs, shaking my head ruefully.This is why I avoid teenage guys, I think. Except for…

I lose my train of thought when I glance out the window on the landing. There’s Gabe’s Lincoln Navigator parked on the front lawn, and there’s… Gabe? And is that Allison? A petite blonde in a short skirt and heels clings to his arm, stumbling a little. As they reach the car, she turns so I can see her face. It’s definitely Allison. Is she flirting? Pleading with him? I can’t read her expression, but she is obviously drunk. I see Gabe take her firmly by the arms and push her into the car. What on earth?

My brain can’t read this situation. I stand frozen on the landing, adrenaline pounding through me. I will be deeply ashamed of it later, but my first thought is notIs Allison okay?butDoes he want HER instead of ME?Chloe and Sophie’s conversation comes rushing back to me. Gabe is withAllison—Allison, who almost always has a boyfriend, who has no weird hang-ups about sex and dating, who would never string a guy along for a school year and then flee from him the moment he makes a move. Allison, who probably has no idea that I’m attracted to Gabe, who is definitely not in a position to make good decisions right now.Check on her, I tell myself, but I can’t seem to move quickly. I struggle through crowds of people to thefront door, but by the time I finally get outside, Gabe’s Lincoln Navigator is gone.

I stayat the party a bit longer, hoping, I guess, that he’ll come back, but the longer I wait, the angrier I get. What the fuck was he even doing? And what the fuck amIdoing? Waiting around for a boy who could derail my entire future? Getting jealous instead of looking out for a friend? WhoamI?

By the time I get home and find my phone where I left it charging, I’m terrified. What if she’snotokay, and I’m the last person who could have intervened? If something terrible happens to her, it will be partly my fault. I see several texts and missed calls from Gabe, but ignore them. I text Allison. Wait. Text again. Wait. Text. Wait. Finally, I can’t take it anymore and risk calling my friend, even though I never call anyone. I jiggle my leg in fear and frustration as the phone rings and rings and rings.

“Mfph,” she answers on about the tenth ring of the third call.

“Alli, are you okay?” I ask desperately. “What happened to you?”

“Dunno. ’M okay. Seeping now. Love you, babe,” she slurs, then hangs up. So yeah, she seems… alive. I sit on the edge of my bed for a while, waiting for my heart rate to slow.

If I hadn’t danced with Gabe, I would have been there for her. If I had slept with him instead of leaving him to go find her, I would have lost my virginity—and likely my heart and my ambitions—to a boy who is no better than any other sleazeball at that party. I feel like I’ve dodged a bullet.

I block his number and delete him from my social media. When I see Allison at work two days later, she acts like hernormal, cheerful self, so I don’t ask her again what happened. I don’t know how much she remembers, and I don’t want to embarrass her. I’m embarrassed enough myself. I don’t know how I could have been so wrong about Gabe Wilson.

1

Eight Years Later

Gabe

For about the millionth time,I nervously pat the inside pocket of my jacket. I had been crazy to bring something so valuable to a sports bar, but when I saw the innocuous-looking padded mailer on the kitchen counter, I had stuffed it out of sight as quickly as I could before heading out the door.

“We should’ve sold it before we came,” my roommate, Paul, shouts to me over the noise of office workers blowing off steam after COB. “It’s platinum, right? How many carats? We could’ve spent it on booze and matching ‘I hate Gretchen’ tattoos.”

“Tempting,” I reply, making an effort to keep my voice light. “But it was my father’s money that paid for it. Technically it should go back to him.”

I’ll see him tomorrow, but I don’t know when I’ll work up the courage to hand over my ex-fiancée’s engagement ring. When I’d told my parents that she and I had broken up, Mom had at least mustered some sympathy, but I could tell Dad blamedme.

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