Page 12 of Fun at Parties
I hopped down to grab the quarter, and when I popped back up, she and Bailey were exchanging a loaded look.
“Promise me something?” Bailey took the coin from me. “Please don’t hook up with any of my friends.”
“Of course,” I said automatically. I was there for her, the first friend I’d made since my family’s lives had collapsed, not for a sloppy make-out session with a random dude.
Giana sipped her beer and pursed her lips. “It’s soannoying when girls come to our parties just to try to hook up with the guys.”
“Does that happen often?”
Before anyone could answer, two figures stepped outside through the back door.
One of them was on the shorter side, with dark hair and blue eyes. A stocky, muscled build, a rugged nose. Bailey had described Logan to me as “dangerously hot” when she invited me to join her for the weekend. “He’s like dipping fries in a Frosty,” she explained. “Unexpected enough that you’ll think you’re the only one who’s into it. But so doesliterally everyone else.”
But I wasn’t looking at him. I was looking at the other one, the taller guy with sandy hair and cagey gray eyes. The guy I almost hit with my car. My eyes went wide, and his went narrow when he spotted me.
“Oh,” I said, my voice choked.
Giana leaned toward me. “Remember, you promised.”
Which is why I never told anyone, including Bailey, what almost happened the following night in the pool. It also made it impossible to explain to her how, after that, Nate became the member of the group I gravitated toward the most, other than Bailey herself. And it meant by the time I moved to L.A., even though I was pretty sure her request had long since expired, I felt weird about coming clean.
Now there’s no point. I text her back:Super fun so far! I’m so glad I’m doing this. Settling in now, I’ll text you later!
My body is wound tight after the car ride, so I kneel on the floor and take my time on a few cat-cows, breathing deeply and savoring the gentle stretch. I’m about to moveto my back for a few more exercises when my phone buzzes. Fortunately, it’s not Bailey this time.
Michelle:You were supposed to check in with me when you got there…
I lie back on the floor and send a quickHereto her before shifting into a spinal twist to target my lower back and glutes. She responds immediately.
Michelle:Oh, good, you’re alive.
Quinn:Since when are you so dramatic? It’s nice to know you love me, though!
Michelle:Well, fuck me for wanting to make sure you got there in one piece. Plus, you have my car.
Michelle:I left Trojans in the glove compartment in case you decide to bang Nate, by the way.
“Gah!” The knowledge that there are condoms in this world earmarked for the hypothetical sex Nate and I arenevergoing to have makes my head spin. I drop the phone and bring my other knee across my body.
I thought you weren’t supposed to leave condoms in the glove compartment?I type when I’m done.
Michelle:Shit. I spent so long trying to get pregnant I forgot how to try not to get pregnant. Text me tomorrow and let me know how it’s going, okay?
Nate’s faint voice reaches me from outside my window. I pop up onto my knees and peek outside, my eyes just above the windowsill. The house is elevated abovethe backyard, and he’s walking the perimeter of the property near the tree line. His phone is pressed to his ear, and he’s massaging his forehead with the other hand.
Logan will come for him any minute, and then I can concentrate on the real reason I’m here: to recenter myself. To focus and reflect and shake off the Caleb mess, and to find that thing inside me that used to make me jump out of bed every morning, eager to get to the studio.
It’s going to be great, I tell Michelle.
The greatness doesn’t start that night.
I can only take so much of Nate pacing around the cabin clutching his phone before I grab the car keys and announce that I’m going to check out the beach. All I want is to eat a turkey, avocado, and sprouts sandwich alone while staring at the water with Glennon Doyle’s podcast in my headphones. But I guess I should attempt to be friendly.
“Do you want to come?” I ask uncertainly, tying a cropped seafoam sweatshirt around my gym shorts.
He waves me off. “No, no. I’ve intruded enough. Have a good time.”
I catch a glimpse of his phone screen. He’s scrolling through DoorDash, which doesn’t seem like a strong sign of his imminent departure. “Will you still be here when I get back?”
