Her eyes widen. I think I’ve horrified her.
“Or whatever is in the gas station,” I say. “We don’t just sell gas. That would be silly.”
“Doesn’t sound like a town, Noah,” Finn says.
I laugh.
“First you say you’re a hate watcher, then you’re lying about towns?” he teases.
Madison flicks her gaze back and forth between us.
“I’m not a hate watcher. It begins with ‘s.’ ‘Hate’ does not begin with ‘s.’”
“You’ve got me there,” he says.
“I’m a superfan,” I giggle.
Madison purses her perfect pink lips. “Right. I’ll leave the two of you alone. You can talk about internet things.”
“Enjoying your night?” Finn asks me.
I nod happily. I glance at the view. “The boats are moving fast!”
“Are they?” Finn’s voice is careful.
“Totally. They’re wobbling too.” I frown. “Do you think we should tell anyone?”
Finn glances at the boats. He winces. “You know, water is a good thing to drink at parties. Let me get you some.”
He disappears into the crowd, and I sink onto the floor, my head pounding, my throat tightening.
The happiness flittering through me crashes to a halt. My stomach squeezes violently, and a sour taste invades my throat. A sour taste I haven’t experienced for years, but which I recognize at once. I cough, my body shuddering with the effort to restrain everything, like a goalie being pummeled by puck after puck.
Oh, no. Not here. Not in front ofhim.
Finn is at my side at once. “Let’s get you to a bathroom.”
The partygoers all seem to notice me now, and their disapproval is palpable. Bile bubbles in my throat, and Finnputs his arm around me and hurries me forward. His footsteps plod beside mine.
I battle the acrid taste rising in my throat and strangle a wrenching noise. It’s not a war I’m going to win. Finn flings open a spa-like bathroom that emits a eucalyptus smell, and I hurry over the polished concrete floor, past the floating vanity, past the massive tub. I’m not supposed to be in a place so nice. Partygoers chatter outside, no doubt gossiping about me.
I lurch for the porcelain pedestal and collapse onto the cold floor.
I’m going to be sick in front of my hero.
And then I am.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Two days earlier
Noah
Twenty pairs of eyes lock on me as I slink my way into the locker room.
My head pounds, despite the water and electrolytes Finn made me drink yesterday, and my skin is bumpy and dull.
Even though I only threw up a couple of times last night, which is more than I ever did in my life before, and even though Finn told me that wasn’t too bad, I knew from the wide-eyed glances and nose wrinkles when I emerged from the bathroom, that everyone heard what I was up to in there.
