“Ash, maybe you should stop,” Westley says. “You’re going to feel like shit tomorrow.”
“You’re going to look like shit too,” Whitley adds. “And then everyone will know we were drinking.”
“It’s nothing sunglasses and Advil can’t fix,” Ashlan says with a giggle before crawling onto her hands and knees like a damn animal.
“What the hell are you doing?” Whitley asks.
For the first time, it’s not Westley making a fool of himself, and without any of us saying another word, I can almost feel the collective embarrassment for our friend.
Ashlan begins to say something, only to suddenly slap her hand across her mouth and scramble to get up. In her drunken haste, she trips, falling into the sand as she tries to get away.
“I think she’s going to throw up,” Whitley says, waving her hands and looking like she’s going to be sick herself. “I can’t. I can’t deal with puke. One of you guys needs to take this one.”
I get up and go to her, helping her up as she dry heaves, and with my arm around her, I lead her several yards away and hold her hair back as the liquid contents of her stomach splatter against the beach grass at her feet.
When she’s done, she wipes her mouth on the back of her hand and turns toward me, though she won’t look me in the eye.
“Got a little carried away tonight, I guess,” she slurs, eyes half-open like she’s about to pass out.
“Let’s get you back to the house.” I can’t leave her like this. It wouldn’t be right.
With my arm around her, I walk us past the bonfire and tell the twins I’m taking her to her room, and then we begin the half-mile stumbling trek back up the cliff.
She throws up twice more on the way.
“What would I do without you?” she asks, her arm hooked around my waist as we get closer to The Caldecott.
I take her in the back door and immediately dread the three flights of stairs it’s going to take to get her to the guest room.
“You’re my best friend, Thayer,” she says.
“Shhh …” I’d hate to wake my aunt and uncle.
By the grace of God, I manage to get her to her room a few minutes later, and I help her climb into bed. I flick on the light to her bathroom in case she needs to see in the middle of the night, and then I tell her goodnight.
“Love you,” she calls out as I leave. She says it the way a friend would say it to another friend who just did them a solid, but I know better.
I say nothing in reply—I tiptoe down the hall, down the three flights of stairs, and head back to my house in the dark, stealing a passing glance at The Hilliard on the way.
Tonight would’ve been so much better had Lila shown up.
Chapter 10
Lila
I toss and turn for hours before deciding to face my insomnia head on. For whatever reason, sleep isn’t coming easily to me tonight, so I tiptoe to the kitchen and make myself a cup of chamomile tea before heading to the front porch.
Rose Crossing was hit with a heat wave this week, so the cool evenings I’ve been growing accustomed to have now become stuffy and insufferable. Not even an open window helps.
Curled up in the white rocking chair, I sip my tea, knees against my chest, and take in my midnight surroundings.
Thayer invited me to another bonfire tonight, but that was before he kissed me, and we didn’t have a chance to talk again after that. The last thing I want is to look like I’m becoming smitten with him, even if I am. I don’t want to seem desperate or like I suddenly changed my mind all because of a kiss behind a shed (even if it was one of the best kisses of my entire life).
I was floating for a moment, lighter than air.
Yesterday didn’t exist. Tomorrow wasn’t so much as a thought in my head. It was just us, in that moment, and it was divine.
The sound of voices interrupt my quietude, and I peer ahead in the distance to see the outline of two figures stumbling toward the houses. The closer they get, the more I’m able to make them out, and within seconds I realize it’s Thayer and Ashlan.
I can’t hear what they’re saying over the crash of the ocean waves that surround the island, but I don’t need to.
His arm is around her shoulders.
Her arm is around his waist.
They’re glued at the hip.
And they’re heading to The Caldecott.
My stomach sinks, and I know I shouldn’t watch, but I can’t help myself. I’m frozen in my rocking chair, my tea growing colder by the second, and I watch as they go in through the back door.