Page 24 of My Debacle with De Lorenzo

“Yeah, no shit.” With a heavy breath, I sit down beside her. “How’s your head?”

“I feel a headache coming on...but that might be from the vodka.”

“Is, uh, is drinking at school something you do often?”

She fixes her eyes on me and gives a sad smile. “Only on the bad days.”

She lays her head on my shoulder and we wait for this Tommy guy to pick her up. He arrives ten minutes later and immediately exits the car when he sees us. His style is laid-back and eccentric at the same time. Blonde hair with blue frosted tips, and he’s coupled it with a blue and pink floral Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts. He’s probably a little shorter than me, kinda lanky, and a little on the skinny side.

He reaches down to grab her hand and hoists her up. “Geez, IzzyB, how much did you drink today?”

She groans, squinting to see him properly. “Hey, Tom.” She waits for me to stand up. “This is Dylan.”

“Ah, Dylan.” He gives my hand a firm shake. “It’s nice to finally put a face to a name. She doesn’t shut up about you.”

Even in her drunken state, I can tell that she’s embarrassed by the comment. “He’s...lying. I don’t...talk about you...a lot.” She quickly changes the subject. “Dylan, this is Thomas Mc Clarkson aka Tommy. Official cherry popper, unofficial best friend.”

“Best friend? I’m flattered. So, why am I picking you up so early?”

“I had a run-in with Steven. He got a little rough with me.”

Tommy scrubs a hard hand over his jaw. “I keep telling you to stop hanging out with assholes like him! One of these days, you’re gonna get hurt and?”

“Tommy, if I wanted to be preached to, I’d be right next to your mother in church.” She lets out an irritated humph and looks at me. “I’ll see you tomorrow, De Lorenzo.” After taking a few steps, she walks back and throws her arms around me. My arms automatically wrap around her like it’s second nature, even though the first hug we’veevershared was in the bathroom today. “Thank you for everything you did for me today,” she whispers, lifting onto her toes to get closer to my ear. “I won’t be late tomorrow. And if you think about me before you fall asleep tonight, just know that I’ll be thinking about you, too...You and your flapping dong. The neighbors are going to be pissed.”

I chuckle softly, and without meaning to, my grip tightens around her, and I inhale the toffee-vanilla fragrance on her neck. It’s mildly intoxicating, and I breathe in deeper. I hold her for a little too long before she eventually pulls away and walks to the car.

“Your hangover kit is in the backseat!” Tommy yells as she gets in.

My eyebrows draw together in confusion. “Hangover kit?”

“Yep. Water. Pills. Deodorant. Anything she needs to sober her up before we get to the store because our boss would fire her on the spot if he saw her drunk. I always keep it on hand because she’s a mess when I pick her up.”

This confuses me more. “You make it sound like this is a regular thing. She said she only drinks on the bad days.”

“Everyday is a bad day. Some are just worse than others. Most days, she pushes until she hits that limit where she can function without getting caught...but then days like today, something will happen, and she’ll drink herself into a stupor. I never know what I’m getting.”

“So, she drinks every day? And you don’t even try to stop her or talk her out of it? Aren’t you supposed to be her best friend?”

I’m not sure if it’s my snappy tone, but he gets extremely annoyed by the attack. “Trying to stop Isabella from self-destructing is like trying to stop a bullet train with one hand. She doesn’t listen to anyone. She is hellbent on becoming the exact person her father didn’t want her to become. If you think you can talk some sense into her, be my guest, butmyjob is to make sure she keeps hers. So, don’t come at me with that holier than thou attitude. I’ve tried. I keep trying. Nothing works! So, maybe you should stop talking shit about things you know nothing about.”

I immediately backtrack, lifting both hands in simple surrender. “Okay, I’m sorry. I just...I care about her, you know.”

“Well, congratulations! We just found the first thing we have in common. How do you feel about scented candles and PlayStation?”

“No, and yes!”

“Game of Thrones?”

“Of course.”

“Nicole Scherzinger?”

“I only recently became aware that there areotherPussy Cat Dolls.”

He smiles and gives a nod. “I think we could get along, Dylan.”

Oddly enough, I feel the same. I’ve never struck a friendship with someone with just a few words before. “Except for the fact that you popped her cherry. That bothers me.”

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