Page 38 of Fun at Parties
My grip on the steering wheel tightens. I know what he’s doing. Giving me space to whine, vent, whatever. Get stuff off my chest, because he thinks that’s what I need. But it’s not like he’s got a perfect handle on lifeeither. “You know what? I think it’s your turn to be challenged. It’s only fair.”
He opens his mouth, wanting to object, I’m sure. But then he shrugs. “Okay, fair.” He pretends to crack his knuckles. “What do you have for me?”
I consider it. He thinks being forced to complain is excruciating for me, and he’s right. What would be excruciating for him?
“Brag,” I say.
“Excuse me?”
“Brag. Tell me how great you are and why. You can stop when we see a red car.”
He drops his head and rubs his face. “You’re evil.”
My evil twin,I think, but that reminds me of the black dress and yesterday in his bed. “If you can dish it out, you have to be able to take it.”
“You’re right. But don’t look at me. It’s going to be hard enough.” He lets out a long, tortured sigh. Then an anguished groan.
“Get bragging, already!”
“Okay. Okay. I am a great camp manager. When—”
A red Corvette whizzes past us.
“Dammit!” I shout.
He wheezes with laughter, cupping his hand over his mouth to contain it.
“I should get a do-over,” I say. “Theinjustice.”
“You can go again.” He wipes his eyes. “But it has to be an easier challenge.”
What do I want to know about him? So much. Everything. Even when we were at our closest, during the month we lived together, it’s not like he revealed hisdeepest thoughts to me. With the SAT incident—his all-time worst moment—I know what happened, and I know it sucked, but that’s it.
“Talk about your family,” I say. “Things I don’t know. You can stop when the next red car comes by.”
“Uh, okay.” He squirms a little, rubbing his thighs. “My mom’s excited I’m coming home. We’re all going to be together for a bit, actually. My brother works remotely, so he sublet his place in Brooklyn and went home for local summer.”
Local summer.I’d never heard the expression until I met Bailey and her friends. Like all good beach bums, they love regular summer too, but they wax poetic about September and October, when the weather is nice but the tourists are gone. Other than Bailey’s birthday, it’s the main reason the group always reunites in Seapoint in early fall.
“I can’t believe Blake is grown-up enough to not only have a place in Brooklyn but also figure out how to sublet it.”
“I think he just handed his keys to a friend of a friend and crossed his fingers that the guy’s not the type to sit on his couch naked,” Nate says. “But you’re right. He even invested in a real bath mat instead of an old beach towel.”
The fondness in his voice when he talks about Blake warms my insides. “Sounds like you guys talk often.”
“We do. It’s something I always make time for.” He furrows his brow. “I’m not sure what you know, or remember, but he was kind of…collateral damage, after everything. I stopped speaking to my dad and moved out. I ended up staying with Logan for a while. Blake didn’tunderstand why we went from playing video games together every night to having dinner at Chipotle once every few weeks.”
“How are things with your dad, anyway?”
He shrugs. “We aren’t close, but we’re cordial. He apologized a few years ago—I probably never told you that?—and it took a while, but I’m fine being in the same room as him. It’s weirdly okay. Hard to explain, I guess.”
A familiar heavy feeling presses down on me. “No, I get it. I’m never going to be best friends with my mom either, but we’re on speaking terms. It is what it is.”
“Exactly,” Nate says. “If I have any regrets, they’re for Blake. He got picked on in high school and came home every day to a lonely house where my parents were tense all the time. He used to think I was so cool. He wanted me to teach him to surf, and I never did. I just left.” He stares at the road, face awash with guilt.
It must’ve been terrifying for Nate to leave home so young. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I can’t imagine what I would’ve done if I’d had a younger sibling. You got close again when he was in college, right?” I remember video chats and a brothers-only trip to Costa Rica, years ago.
He looks at me, his expression less agonized but still conflicted. “Yeah, but I still have a lot to make up for. When I got the job in L.A., I almost didn’t take it because I didn’t want to abandon him again.”
