So what if I am?

“Put that thing away,” Victoria cried over the music.

“Fine,” Liz snapped, shoving it back into her purse. “You guys are no fun.”

“The reason we left Lane at home is so that you’ll have fun with us. You can’t have fun with us while you’re messaging him,” Victoria told her.

The girls spent the next couple hours loading Liz up with more booze and dancing the night away with each other and any available hot guys. As much as Liz was dying to check her phone, she had a sneaking suspicion that she wouldn’t get away with it again.

And as the night grew longer, her head got heavier and heavier. She felt pretty sick, but the dancing seemed to be helping. Maybe there was something to Savannah’s comment about sweating out the booze.

Savannah dipped out first. She claimed that she had a test to study for tomorrow and she would call to check on Liz after. She didn’t suspect Liz would be awake before then. Massey left about an hour before bar close. She found a hot fraternity guy that she knew and they disappeared with a hasty good-bye.

Liz and Victoria danced until Liz felt as if her feet were going to fall off. And that was saying something through her buzz.

“Let’s get out of here,” Liz yelled over the music.

Victoria nodded and gestured to exit the dance floor. She was wobbling on her heels too. If they had drunk enough for Victoria to be unsteady, then Liz knew she was well past drunk. Luckily the sick feeling had passed and she just wanted to walk off the rest of the haze in her mind.

“Close out?” Liz asked.

“Yeah,” Victoria agreed. “Call Lane and tell him to come get us.”

Liz shrugged and fished her phone back out of her purse. She hadn’t checked it in hours. There had been no room on the dance floor. Her fingers fumbled on the keys as she tried to figure out what the hell she was doing. What was she supposed to be doing anyway?

Two new messages.

As good a place to start as anywhere.

Okay.

Okay what? Liz scrolled up through the conversation. She had told him to prove it and he had said okay. Fuck. What was the next text?

See you soon.

Liz panicked. Fire alarms were going off in her head. God, she wanted to see him. She really, really wanted to see him. But seeing him was a bad idea. Hayden. She was supposed to be calling Hayden. She couldn’t call Hayden if Brady was coming to see her.

She did the first thing that came to mind. She clicked the number to dial Brady’s phone and prayed that he wasn’t already on a plane . . . or maybe that he already was. She didn’t know how she felt in that moment.

Drunk. She felt drunk. And sick. The sickness was coming back.

She started walking. Out of the bar and onto the sidewalk.

The phone rang twice before the line picked up. She held her breath. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but all along she hadn’t thought he would answer.

“Hey,” he said, his voice as sexy as she remembered it.

“Hey.”

“You called me on my personal line.”

“You were texting me,” she said, finding a bench and plopping down.

“I’ve been drinking.”

Oh.

“How much?” she slurred.

He laughed, and it was one of the best sounds she had ever heard. “Not as many as you, apparently.”

“More than one, though.”

“Many more than one,” he agreed.

“I’m drunk.”

“I can tell.”

Victoria’s voice rang out behind her. “Liz, where the fuck did you go?”

“Hold on,” she told Brady. She stood and waved at Victoria. “Over here.”

“Jesus! Don’t do that!” Victoria said. “Are you talking to Lane? Is he picking us up?”

“Let’s just walk home. I want to walk off all this booze,” she crooned, and started walking away without waiting to hear what Victoria had to say. “So . . . what was I saying? Oh, you can’t come visit.”

“I can’t or you don’t want me to?” That was the first line where she actually heard the alcohol in his voice.

“Liz, are you kidding me right now?” Victoria yelled. “Who the hell are you talking to?”

“Who is that?” Brady asked.

“My roommate. She doesn’t want me to walk home.”

“You shouldn’t walk home. I’ll come get you.”

“You’re not here,” she said, drawing out the E dramatically as she wandered aimlessly down Franklin Street.

Victoria grabbed her shoulder and halted her in place. “Who are you talking to? Give me the phone. We’re not fucking walking home!”

“Chill out, Vickie,” Liz said, swatting her hand away.

Victoria dodged her easily and nimbly grabbed her phone. Liz stumbled as she tried to reach for it. She couldn’t let Victoria talk to Brady!

“Hey, who is this? You know what—it doesn’t matter. Liz is really drunk and she has to go now. She’ll call you back some other time,” Victoria said into the phone and then ended the call. Liz’s heart sank. She had just hung up on Brady in the middle of their call.

“I’m calling Lane,” Victoria said, finding his number and dialing.

Liz plopped back down on the bench and tried to keep her head from spinning. It wouldn’t stop. And she felt so out of control. All the booze seemed to be hitting her at one time and she thought that she might be sick.

There was a trash can to the side of the bench, and Liz just made it as she unloaded the contents of her stomach into the bin. She retched repeatedly until it felt as if she had nothing left in her entire body. She felt the tears spring to her eyes and she tried to swipe them away, but it made her stomach clench. She hadn’t thought that she had anything left in her, but she doubled over and puked again.

“Fuck!” she heard Victoria cry behind her.

Her friend was at her side in an instant, holding her hair back, cleaning her up the best she could, and sitting her back down on the bench. Hayden arrived not long after that and drove them back to her house. Liz had enough sense to grab her phone back from Victoria before crawling into bed. But lying down was a bad move, and soon she had her face buried in the toilet.

Hayden stayed up half the night with her as she got sick over and over until she passed out into a delirious, dehydrated, exhausted slumber.

Chapter 13

SLIP THROUGH THEIR FINGERTIPS

Liz awoke the next afternoon with a headache from hell. Her eyes were puffy, her throat was swollen, and she felt as if someone had run her over with a Mack truck. She was equal parts starving and never wanting to eat again.

Why oh why had she ever allowed herself to drink as much as she did?

Rolling over slowly in bed, she peeled her eyes open and tried to let them adjust to the light in the room. Her head spun and she wondered briefly if she was actually still drunk from last night. Moving onto her other side, Liz stared at a little slice of heaven.

A glass of water. A bottle of Gatorade. A thousand milligrams of Tylenol. And a note from Hayden letting her know that he was going to pick them up some lunch. Not that she had any intention of eating anything.

After taking the medicine, she sipped on the Gatorade, trying to drink as much as she could without feeling sick. Last night had been a very bad idea. Fuzzy memories came back to her slowly. But she didn’t remember a lot of what had happened after Massey got there.

Something.

Savannah.

Right. Savannah had shown up. That was so nice of her. She should text her a thank-you.

Liz reached for her phone and stopped just before grabbing it. “Oh no,” she whispered.

Now she remembered.

Brady.

She had texted Brady last night. And he had answered. They had talked back and forth. Had she even called him? Fuck, what had they talked about?