Page 220 of Rock Me All Night
"I know."
She plops back on the couch. "I shouldn't have let you get away with that after that party."
"But I'm glad you did."
She reaches into the paper bag sitting on the table, pulls out a bottle of black tea, and hands it to me. "Are you though?" She looks me in the eye. "You dragged me out of bed every Sunday after Rosie died."
"You were despondent." I twist the cap. "Your sister overdosed. You needed emotional support. This is nothing... I was busy with homework."
She pops open a can of green tea. "Right."
I take a swig of my drink. Perfect excuse not to respond. Meg isn't as perceptive as Drew is, and she hasn't known me as long as he has, but she does see through me.
She follows suit. Her attention returns to the action on screen.
"I'm out of my element here," she says. "I'm so used to you being the one dragging shit out of me. How do you do that? It's annoying at first, but I always appreciate it." She sits up straight and looks me in the eyes. "You're going to tell me what's going on with Drew."
"Very convincing."
"Thank you." She puts her hand on her hip and turns her head like she's posing. "More importantly, you're going to swear to me that you're okay. You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to, but if you're not okay, I'm going to drag you to the damn clubs and fill you with drinks until you feel okay."
I shift back into the couch. "It's eleven a.m."
She laughs. "Valid point."
I look Meg in the eyes. "I'm okay enough."
She accepts my answer and turns back to the action movie. It's some cheesy thing from the eighties. There's a built guy running around in a ripped shirt and tight pants. He has a mullet and a giant gun. Somehow, he always manages to hold it so it's jutting from his hip.
Meg finishes her can of tea, tosses it back in the bag, and pops another top. "Drew has been in a funk all week."
"Yeah?"
"Oh, yeah. I've got all the gossip. I was at practice Friday."
Fantastic. Drew is gossip. Drew and I are gossip.
"It's no big deal. You know those guys. They're like brothers the way they talk."
I nod.
"What happened after the party?" she asks.
"You don't have that gossip?"
"Only what Miles said the next time I saw him."
"Before or after he made sweet, sweet love to you?"
She smiles. "Before. We do need to eat."
The girl is beaming. Still out-of-this-world, over-the-moon in love.
Meg turns to me. She rests her head on her hand and lowers her voice to a whisper. "It's kind of gross."
"Not as gross as hearing the two of you come."
Her cheeks go red. She drops her voice an octave as if imitating Miles. "If the guy is so good with his hands, why doesn't he use one and spare us from his blue balls?"
