Page 28 of You Had Me at Hello World
Third-wheeling isn’t my idea of fun, but I want her to like me, so I agree.
As soon as we get on the boat, I’m tempted to belly-flop into the Atlantic. Lights flash hot pink, then orange, then lime green. It’s hot and loud and crowded. Even the ice sculpture—is that supposed to be Edvin Nilsen’s head?—is half melted. The music is screechy. Newton’s Second Law states that the more obnoxious a song is, the louder it must be played.
Stella and I exchange looks.
“We could go find your boyfriend?” I venture.
She squints. “Don’t see him right now. Let’s go get something to drink.”
We try to weave through the crush, but there’s a huge swarm of people around the bar area. There’s barely enough room to breathe.
“Baby!” A scrawny guy wearing a knit beanie (in the summer?) appears out of nowhere. He clamps his mouth onto Stella’s, and I watch them do mouth-to-mouth resuscitation for a good minute.
In my head, theNational Geographicbaritone voiceover returns.We observe two adolescent humans pressing their food-intake orifices together. The evolutionary purpose of this display is unclear.
When they finally break apart, she looks like a fish gasping for air. “Hiya, Lucas,” she manages. “This is Char from Oregon. Char, Lucas. Lucas, Char.”
“Hmm,” he says, barely looking at me.
“We’re trying to get something to drink, but the line for the bar is ridiculous,” she continues.
“Here. I have something.” He hands Stella his Hydro Flask water bottle. After she takes a swig, she passes it to me. I take a large, grateful gulp.
The liquid goes down with a fire that makes my eyes sting. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever tasted. I immediately spit out whatever didn’t invade my throat. Oh my God. They’re trying to poison me!
Both Stella and Lucas burst out laughing.
I sputter, “What the hell?”
“Did you think that was water? It’s vodka.” He turns to Stella. “Baby. The venture capitalists are here.”
As I cough and cough, she asks, “Even Reynolds?”
“EspeciallyReynolds.”
“He didn’t get back to me about writing a recommendation letter,” Stella says. “You think I can go and ask him?”
“Maybe in a bit. All of them are swarming that kid. The dorky one with the Crocs. Khoi.”
Khoi?
Stella shrugs. “Let’s dance.” And then they walk away as if I’m not even there. Cool.
I trail them onto the dance floor and try to vibe with themusic. Most people here don’t seem to know how to dance. There are a few girls bringing the TikTok moves, and a couple of guys who don’t seem to care what anybody else thinks. But the vast majority of people on the dance floor are sort of bouncing up and down on the balls of their feet. It’s awkward city out here.
The DJ is blasting something that sounds like pots and pans being thrown down a flight of stairs, when a wave of seasickness sweeps over me.
It’s a fluttering in my stomach, but not like butterflies. More like bumblebees, their tiny stingers pricking my insides. I stumble.
“Excuse me,” I say to nobody in particular. Maybe I should head to the bathroom. There better be a bathroom, right? Do all yachts have bathrooms? I mean, they must. Where else would people hook up?
But it’s too loud and too stuffy and too much. I need to get out of here ASAP.
The evening sea breeze kisses my face as I stagger out of the boat interior and find a spot near the railing. I take greedy slurps of salted air. Yachts are terrible. Completely terrible. I don’t get why rich people are so hyped about them. They could be hyped about something else, like solving world hunger.
As I pray for the bees’ nest in my stomach to die, my phone buzzes with a text. It’s the airline, letting me know that my luggage has been located and it’ll be available at BOS tomorrow morning for pickup. Thank God. No more desperation showers with thebathroom hand soap. I set an alarm to retrieve it before class.
My mood is suddenly way brighter. I want to tell somebody about this, even though nobody cares besides me. Maybe Stella. Nah, she’s too wrapped up with her obnoxious boyfriend. Maybe Khoi?
