Page 53 of The Merger
Tate: How are you getting homeeeeeeee?
I switch back to his text chain.
Me: I’m calling a rideshare. It’s fine.
Tate: Can you stay at Courtney’s?
Another vibration. Another alert from a Brewer man. I flip back to Gannon.
Gannon: I’m going to ask you one more time—why can’t you drive?
Me: I had three too many glasses of wine. Thanks for your concern.
I go back to Tate.
Me: No, I’m not staying here. There are fifty people in this house.
Tate: I don’t like you in a rideshare by yourself when you’re drunk.
Me: We’ve been over this. I’m not drunk-drunk … yet.
Tate: Can you share your location with me?
Gannon’s name appears at the top of the screen, so I switch back to him.
Gannon: Where are you?
Me: None of your business.
Gannon: I seem to remember you telling me today that my problems have a lot to do with you. I stand corrected. You were right.
Me: I wish I could think clearly enough to process that word salad.
The room grows smaller and hotter as Tate buzzes with a new message. I find my Settings, ensure I’m sharing my location with him, and then go back to his texts.
Tate: Dammit, Carys.
Me: There. I shared it. I can’t decide whether you’re annoying or sweet. I’ll decide tomorrow and let you know.
Tate: You do that.
Gannon chimes back in.
Gannon: Stay where you are.
Me: Or what?
Gannon: So help me God.
Me: That feels like a challenge.
Gannon: This isn’t the time for your games, Carys. Stay the fuck there.
Me: You and your brother are driving me crazy tonight.
I wait for a response, but it doesn’t come.
“Typical,” I say, pouring the rest of the bottle into my glass. “Now, do I stay here, or do I go home?”
