Page 60 of Fun at Parties
“—I’ll have to work, but I won’t have toworry.”
His face softens. “That’s what you want? Not to have to worry?”
“Isn’t that what everyone wants?”
He doesn’t have the chance to answer. A powerful gust of wind blows through the campsite, and it’s followed by a loud crash. We sit up. Across the parking lot aisle, a canopy is sitting upside-down on the dented hood of a white Jetta. The wind must’ve taken it airborne.
“Oh, shit,” Nate says.
Two guys wearing nothing but underwear and light-up cowboy hats jog over from farther down the row, ostensibly wherever the canopy came from. Thankfully, nobody appears to be hurt.
I slump back down. “Is it tomorrow yet?”
“Don’t be such a downer,” he chides me, and I chuck my empty can of beer at him. After dodging it, he frowns. “My foot is asleep.” He stretches it out and wrinkles his nose and grunts as he wriggles around.
I imitate his grunt. “So dramatic.”
“I think I like when you’re mean to me.”
“Maybe you should unpack that with a professional.”
He covers his mouth, laughing, and it sends glee soaring through me like a kite. “Ouch. This is annoying.” Hebrings his knee up to his chest to better reach his foot, flexing and pointing his toes. As he drops it back toward the floor, his heel bumps the glove compartment. It falls open, and a waterfall of condoms spills out.
I yelp. Dammit, Michelle.
He stares at them wide-eyed, his mouth twitching. “What kind of trip were you planning, exactly?”
I’m doubled over the center console, my forehead resting on my forearm. Tears of laughter track their way down my burning cheeks. “Not—my—idea,” I squeak out.
“Are you giving sex ed talks to horny teenagers? Maybe we should give some of these to our college student friends,” he says, draping a long strip around his neck like a scarf.
“No! They’re not structurally sound!”
“What,” he says, “does that even mean?”
I’m too far gone to remind him about overheating and breakage and jeez, maybe I do need to teach a sex ed class.
He holds one up to the window, squinting at it. “Wait. Are these supposed to be for you and me? I don’t know what kind of, uh, performance you’re envisioning, but this is a little aggressive. I’m definitely not hydrated enough—”
I yelp again, slapping my hands over my ears, too hysterically exhausted to feel weird about us making sex jokes with each other.
When the laughter subsides, it leaves me relaxed, with heavy limbs and loose muscles. We resume our positions lying on our sides with our flannel shirt pillows. I’m going to close my eyes for a second, and then we’ll get up and go to the show.
Nate grabs the sleeping bag from the backseat, whereit’s folded next to my potted plant. He unzips the bag and drapes it over both of us.
“This is a total nightmare,” I murmur. “But I’m glad I’m doing it with you.”
He swallows thickly. “Me too.”
The rain isn’t falling as hard, I notice dimly. “We’ll go in a few more minutes?”
“Yeah. A few more minutes.”
I wrinkle my nose, trying to use it to move the lock of hair that’s fallen over my face. My arms are too heavy and snug under the sleeping bag to move. Nate’s fingertips brush my forehead and he rakes them through my hair, pushing it back.
Some of the KU kids are returning to their cars, I think, based on the low hum of voices just outside the window. The last thing I hear is them singing “Rock Chalk, Jayhawk,” a slow, mesmerizing chant that drags me under completely. And the last thing I feel is Nate’s arm falling across my waist as he goes under too.
Chapter 20
