Page 53 of The Merger

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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?”

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