Page 40 of Fun at Parties
His mouth drops open. “You’re mad at me for doing something nice for you?”
“I’m mad at you for self-sabotaging. We need to get to Denver and find Logan and get you your camp. Isn’t that what you want?” My hands are flying around, and I’mpointing in the direction of what I think is Colorado but could very well be Canada.
“Yes, but—”
“Say it. Say you want your camp.”
He groans and rubs his face. “I want my camp.”
I tuck my foot underneath me, sitting up taller. “Say you deserve your camp.”
He brakes hard and pulls over. “Jesus, Quinn, stop! This isn’t one of your classes. You can’t words-of-affirmation me into manifesting my dream.”
My face heats at the disdain in his voice. “But it is your dream,” I say quietly.
He swallows and nods. Then he turns the car around.
Chapter 13
Denver, Colorado-1,789 miles to Seapoint
My expectations for our Airbnbin Denver are low, given that we booked it same-day, but it’s actually—dare I say—nice. It’s a cozy carriage house with a blue door, warm brick walls, and a fern on top of the vintage-looking hutch that holds the coffee maker. I set my plant next to it and snap a picture for Bailey.
This little guy made a friend, I add. Then, anticipating the question she’s sure to ask:Nate and I are somehow in Denver (?!) going to a party with Beach House people tonight.
The wordsomehowis doing a lot of work in that sentence. The deeper I get into this, the more it feels like I’m lying to her. A pit forms in my stomach while I wait for her response, but she doesn’t send one. This doesn’t help with the pit.
Nate sprawls out on the green velvet couch downstairs. I head up to the loft and open my suitcase on the tidy bed in the corner.
“What kind of party did Livvie say this was again?”
It takes Nate a second to respond, and when he does, his voice is distant and husky. “She didn’t.”
“You better not be falling asleep,” I warn. But it’s just as I feared. Down below, he’s curled up under a blanket with his eyes closed.
I grab a pillow, prepared to drop it over the railing. But then I remember the way we took down the pillow wall in Vegas. The way I melted into him.
He melted back. It wasn’tjustme.
I set the pillow down on the bed and clear my throat instead.
“Mmph.” He doesn’t move.
“It’s at someone’s house, so I’d think it’s a casual thing,” I say. “But these are reality TV people, so maybe not.”
It doesn’t matter much. My suitcase is spilling over with workout clothes. My other options are limited to a single pair of denim shorts or a single pair of denim jeans.
“Do you want me to text her?” he croaks, half-unconscious.
“No,” I say quickly. Apparently every bone in my body is a jealous one, because the thought of encouraging communication between Nate and a woman Logan wants him to date gives me head-to-toe shudders.
After that, I let him sleep, slipping outside with my phone. There’s a wrought-iron bench under the front window, facing the main house. Our host, a guy named Travis, is away camping, but he left us a note encouraging us toEnjoy all the beauty Denver has to offer!
Right. Well. There are some lovely yellow flowers blooming in his garden.
The blue circle next to Tracy’s name at the top of mytext messages makes my chest burn. I used to be thrilled by her attention. Now it sends me into a Pavlovian stress response.
Tracy:Why haven’t you posted anything in two days? You need to ride the momentum. And go deeper. Mix the fun with some vulnerability. It’ll make people want to ride with you. I’m putting a call with Summer on the calendar for tomorrow.
