Page 88 of Bad For A Weekend

“I speak four fluently. English, Spanish, German, and Italian. And I speak enough Portuguese to get by.”

“Cool,” he says.

“I also worked a few modeling jobs when I was younger, before the industry realized I’d never grow over five feet. I took all the money I earned and put it in the stock market—on my own, where I learned to invest. I’ve more than quadrupled that money, giving myself a fat bank account that has nothing to do with my dad.”

“Good for you.” He shifts in his seat uncomfortably.

“I know how to change a tire,” I say. He tries to interrupt me, but I hold up a finger that he sees in the rearview mirror. “I spent a year in Argentina, immersing myself in the culture. I’ve read twenty-five of the most important literary works, includingWar and Peace, which I found boring. Yes, I’m a cheerleader, but that’s because I like to stay in shape, and it’s a great way to do so. So please, tell me which part of me, other than the fact that I’m a teenager, tells you I’m a child?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You haven’tmeanta lot of what you’ve said during this conversation,” I spit out.

“Oh, look, we’re here. Do you need to go get him, or...”

“I’ll go get him.” I step out of the car, giving him some time to think about what I said because, yes, I’ll only be nineteen next week, but no, I’m not a child. I’ve lived enough for ten lifetimes, and my biggest takeaway is that all I want is a slow and simple life where I have time to smell the roses.

“Hey,” Ziggy says. His eyes go wide when he sees the snarl still on my lip. “What happened to you?”

“Hudson happened.”

“What did that douche canoe say to get you all scrunchy in the face?” He tries to pinch my face together in his big palm, but I pull away.

“He told me I was a kid.”

Ziggy makes a disgusted sound. “Big mistake.”

“Right?”

“This car ride just got a whole lot more interesting. Let’s go.”

My best friend, the drama lover.

“That was dope,” Trent says as we walk out of the maze and over to the catered food tables.

“Thank God we had Baylor’s little fingers to undo that knot.”

I laugh. “I can’t believe you know Morse code, Ian.”

“Yeah, I was really into military video games a few years ago.”

“You hungry?” Trent asks, taking my hand. It’s so different from Owen’s meaty paw, which completely swallows mine. Trent’s normal-sized fingers weave between mine with ease.

“Sure.” I don’t know if it’s the excitement of the mystery rooms we solved, knowing Owen is off visiting someone for some unknown reason, the high from telling Hudson off earlier, or just my need for physical contact, but I don’t immediately drop his hand.

I hear everyone’s voices in my head, telling me how wrong it is for me to be in love with a man so much older than me, how there’s no way for us to ever be together, and it’s clouding my feelings. When I got back from Tulum, I had a “not yet” mentality. We can be together, butnot yet. But now I’m starting to think that’s a fairytale.

Owen never led me to believe we’d be together someday. He actually said the opposite, and his actions since then have spoken pretty damn loud. Maybe it’s time I listened to him.

We snag croissant sandwiches, a green salad, and a flute of champagne that no one says anything about and join Ziggy and Ian at a table they’ve commandeered.

“Ian, I know you’re going to Columbia for college, but what about you, Trent?” I ask.

“UCLA. My dad is pretty insistent I take over his business someday, so I’ll be majoring in finance.”

“Is that what you want to do?”

“Yeah, I mean, I want to have money, and it seems like the easiest way to achieve that. What about you?”

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