I lean back into the cushions and giggle quietly. That is hilarious, I write, because I’m at an orgy, too.
He responds right away. Oh, really?
But it’s a classy orgy. Mostly kissing/groping.
And texting . . . he writes.
Which makes me blush. I’m not sure why. And texting.
I really love texting, he writes.
Me too.
Three dots. He’s typing something. I glance up, and it’s funny—I feel sort of invisible. There’s this party happening all around me, and I’m entirely separate. I’m a total ice cube. But in a good way.
You know what would suck about living in the Middle Ages? he writes finally.
The bubonic plague? I reply.
Yes. But also. No texting.
Three dots. He’s typing something else.
But imagine if there WAS texting in the Middle Ages.
I smile. Oh, you’re really thinking about this, I write back.
Yes.
So, what would medieval people have texted?
Three dots.
Chaucer quotes. Codpiece selfies.
Yeah. Holy shit. This boy is funny over text.
I can totally see you sending a codpiece selfie to Queen Elizabeth, I write.
Wrong time period, but yes. G-d yes.
AND HE DOES THE JEWISH THING WITH GOD’S NAME. FUCK.
That’s cute.
Step it up, Molly.
“Elizabeth. R U a virgin? Luv Reid” I type.
He writes back immediately. “Nope.” Winky-face emoji.
Uh, wasn’t she the virgin queen?
Not if I’d been alive, he writes.
Sorry, but who is this boy? Because I’m pretty sure he’s flirting. And I did not realize Reid Wertheim knew how to flirt.
I bite back a smile.
And I’m about to write back something very uncareful when Cassie collapses on the couch beside me. “There you are! Hey. Okay. Guess what.” She leans her head on my shoulder and smiles up at me. “You, Molly Adele, get the Lexus tonight!”
I just look at her.
“Why are you making the Molly Face, Molly Face?” She giggles.
“Okay, how drunk are you?”
“Just a little,” she says, and sighs. “Molly.” She nuzzles into the crook of my neck. “You always smell so flowery.”
I laugh. “It’s our shampoo. You literally use the same kind. From the same bottle.”
“Yeah, but I don’t smell it on myself. Anyway.” She pokes my arm. “Aren’t you excited? You get to drive Mina’s Lexus.”
“I’m not driving Mina’s Lexus.”
“Okay, well . . . ,” she says, and I start to reply, but she covers my mouth. “No, hear me out. So I know Mina wasn’t going to drink, but we ended up playing Kings, and she’s not drunk, but she’s like a little bit drunk, so we’re just going to play it really safe and crash here. So, if you want to drive it home, you totally can. We just need you to pick us up here tomorrow morning.”
“Okay, that’s not—”
“And park on the street, just so Nadine and Patty don’t get freaked out, okay?”
I look at her. “Cass, I can’t. I had a drink.”
“Okay.” She tilts her head. “Just one drink?”
“Cassie, I’m not driving.”
“I’m just asking.”
“Are you seriously asking me this?” I sit up straight, pulling away from her. “Are you asking me if I’m going to risk my life by driving home after having alcohol for the second time ever, which I’m not even supposed to combine with Zoloft, by the way—”
“Okay.” She laughs, but kind of harshly. “Then why’d you do it?”
“Why did I drink?”
“If you’re not supposed to drink on your meds, why do you keep doing it, Molly?”
“Are you kidding me?” I feel this tightness in my chest and this ache in my cheek, and I realize I’ve been clenching my jaw. “Fuck you.”
It’s the phrase of the night.
Cassie’s eyebrows shoot up. “Whoa.”
“So now you’re going to judge me for drinking? Are you serious? You guys were my ride. And now your big plan is to completely ditch me so you can spend the night making out with your girlfriend, and I get to be your chauffeur?”
Something in her expression seems to snag, and my throat thickens. “And, like, you don’t even care if I’m safe to drive. Just as long as you get your awesome hot night with Mina.”
“Are you joking?” she asks. “You’re seriously going to give me shit for this?”
“Forget it,” I say.
I wish I hadn’t said anything. I don’t want to have this conversation. Not here. Not ever.
“I mean, do you want to talk about this?” Cassie says, scooting closer to me.
“Can we not?” I grip my cup tightly.
“Molly.”
I look up at her, and her eyes are shining. Okay, that throws me. Cassie doesn’t cry. Cassie doesn’t even almost-cry.
“You think I’m ditching you for Mina?”
“What do you think?” It’s something I’d normally never say out loud, but I guess that’s the thing about alcohol.
“Like, you know she’s my girlfriend, right?”
I stare at my knees. I keep picturing Cassie’s lips pressed against Mina’s ear. I can’t stop thinking about that.
“Molly, why are you doing this?”
“You think I’m doing this?” My jaw tightens, because this is what Cassie does. She twists things around and acts like I’m coming at her out of nowhere. As if she hasn’t spent the last few weeks completely absorbed in Mina wonderland.
“Oh my God. Just stop,” she says. “You are so goddamn—”
“Oversensitive, I know.”
She throws her hands up.
And I feel this wave of calmness. I know that’s strange. But even though I hate when she calls me oversensitive, I like that I knew she would. I understand Cassie better than I understand myself. And I don’t think Mina will ever know her like I do.
“I think I’m going to go,” I say.
She leans backward, laughing, hands over her eyes. “So, what? You’re gonna walk to the Metro now?”
I’m suddenly aware that people are looking at us. Not in a blatant way, but there’s some not-so-subtle glancing. People love a shitshow.
I shrug.
“Molly, come on.”
“I mean, what were you thinking?” Now I’m fighting tears. “Like, you just decided to get drunk, and you assumed I’d be able to drive home by myself?”
I cannot cry. I cannot start crying.
“Okay, to be honest? I kind of thought you’d be getting a ride with Will tonight anyway, so . . .”
“Yeah, he’s drunk, too.”
She sighs. “Or crashing here with Will. Molly. Please don’t pretend you don’t understand what I’m talking about.”
“I’m not.” I exhale and rub my forehead. “I’m not hooking up with Will.”
“Yeah, I noticed. Which is why I thought you’d want the fucking Lexus. Look, you want to leave the car? Great. That saves us some hassle tomorrow morning. I just thought you might not want to Metro tonight. Thought I was being nice. But whatever.”
There’s this pause. I look up, and the light seems a little dimmer, and everyone’s a little blurrier around the edges. I catch a glimpse of Max across the room, talking to a girl I don’t recognize, and he’s laughing, and his bangs are clipped back from his face with a plastic barrette.
“And what’s the deal with Reid?” Cassie says, and I almost flinch.
“With Reid?”
She rolls her eyes. “Or not. I don’t know. Just kind of got a vibe the other day on the porch.”