From What I Remember (36 page)

“He really wants me to come alone.”

“Yeah, you just said that. Several times. And I’m not so interested in what Max wants.”

Okay. That was quick. I’ve already gone dark. I polish off the last of my venti capp (thank God the new Starbucks at the mall opens at five a.m. or things would be really gruesome right now), slide off the hood of the Jeep, and jump into shotgun before Charlie has a chance to say anything more.

Charlie climbs in, closes the door, but doesn’t start up the engine. Oh, no—here it comes. Charlie is a talker. Which is pretty ironic considering he’s Max’s best friend. I can only imagine the one-sided conversations that take place in the locker room. Probably pretty similar to Max’s and mine. Normally I’m happy to chew the fat with Charlie—he’s been almost like a girlfriend, listening to my shit when Max won’t—but I’m not in the mood this morning.

“Maybe Max wanted some time off, you know, to think about…stuff.”

“Stuff? What kind of stuff?”

“College. Squash tryouts. His dad?”

“His dad? What about his dad?” I ask. “I thought he was getting better.”

Charlie just stares at me.

“What?” I ask.

“You should probably ask Max. It’s not my business.”

Yet another thing Max and I haven’t properly discussed. I could fill a room with the things we can’t talk about.

“This whole thing is probably no big deal,” Charlie continues. “Maybe he just wanted to catch some good breaks. There’s great surfing in Baja. The thing is, I don’t think he wants any drama right now. It’s not anything he said, so don’t ask me what I know. It’s just a vibe I’m getting. The two of us showing up is gonna be drama.”

“Absolutely no drama. I’m on board with that.”

“C’mon, Lil. You know that’s not true. If you come, there is going to be drama. There always is. Just wait here. I promise I’ll bring him back quickly, and then you can go at him all you want.”

“I’m coming, Charlie.…”

“And it’s graduation. What if we’re late? You don’t want to be late. Seriously, Lil, this is not a good idea.”

“I’m coming, Charlie.” I pull a Yoo-hoo out of the bag and offer it to Charlie. I throw my feet onto the dashboard and sink into my seat. Let’s go, bro.

Charlie takes the Yoo-hoo, opens it, and gulps it down. He’s still not starting the car. I’m tempted to grab the keys and fire up the ignition myself. Charlie is really beginning to get on my nerves.

“I feel like you’re ready for a fight before you’ve even heard Max’s side of things,” Charlie says.

Oh my God, more talking. Please, stop.

“Max’s side of things is always up for grabs. I want to see for myself what’s going on.”

I am working myself up into a total lather. This was not the plan, but Charlie is not starting the car, and I am not getting out until I’m in Mexico.

Charlie sighs. Debate is not his strong suit. He’s always a little too concerned about everyone’s feelings.

“Start the car, Charlie. You know you can’t win this one. I will wear you down.”

“I just want to go on record as saying this is a really bad idea.”

“Noted.”

Charlie starts the car and takes, like, five years to back out of his driveway. He turns on to the street and we’re crawling toward the intersection. Oh. My. God. At this rate, we’ll be in Mexico early next week.

“Are we going to drive twenty the whole way?” I ask.

“It’s not even six in the morning. I don’t want to wake the neighbors. I know everyone on the street.”

I roll my eyes because that is just so Charlie. Always concerned about someone or something. Jesus, dude, you’re eighteen. Who fucking cares what the neighbors think? The world is not your problem.

There’s silence for a whole minute, and then Charlie turns to me.

“Are we okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, after last night.”

Last night? Shit. I had forgotten about that whole disaster. Do we really need to dredge that up again?

“Oh, yeah. Totally,” I reassure him.

“’Cause I still feel kind of weird about everything.”

“You so shouldn’t give it another thought. It just happened. We were both drunk. It was…whatever. Don’t worry about it. We’re fine. No one needs to know.”

“I know, but…maybe we should tell Max? I don’t want it to get back to him from someone else. I feel bad—”

“Nothing happened, Charlie. What is there to tell? Besides, who knows what he did in Mexico. He probably has a lot more to unload than I do.”

Charlie keeps looking over at me. I can tell he still wants to talk about things.
Please, Charlie, I’m begging you, can we just drop it?

“You seemed really pissed at me last night when, you know, I couldn’t…do anything. And I just, um, wanted to say that—”

“Charlie, it’s so not a big deal. Put it out of your mind. I seemed pissed because I was pissed. At Max. Not at you. We messed up. It happens. There is no larger meaning here. Don’t look for it.”

“I guess you’re right,” Charlie says.

“I know I’m right. We’re seniors. This is the kind of thing people do senior year. So they have something to tell their grandkids.”

“Okay, I just, well, I thought I should explain why I couldn’t—”

“The less said, the better.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“We all have our junk.”

What is this, Oprah? Enough with the over-sharing. Now I get why Max finds my need to constantly communicate my feelings annoying.

“Before you go all postal on Max, you should probably listen to what he’s got to say.”

“Sure.” As if.

am jolted awake by sunlight flooding the room.

What time is it? Where am I?

Disoriented, I attempt to open my eyes. The light is stabbing. My head is throbbing, my throat is raw, and my stomach is roiling. Is this what a hangover feels like?

I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had one. Until now.

I close my eyes, take a few deep breaths, and lie still, trying to get my bearings. Last night was one of the greatest nights of my life. I think. But then again, it could have turned into one of the worst. I don’t remember much past a certain point.

I give it another go. I glance around, taking in my surroundings. A partial view of an unfamiliar bedroom comes into focus. There’s a dresser in the corner where a mess of snow globes, stuffed animals, and Barbie dolls fight for space. A poster of a fuzzy white kitten with a huge purple bow around its neck is taped to the wall, between two windows. One window has a shade pulled halfway down, the other has no shade at all. Light pours in, mercilessly. Is it always this sunny in the morning?

I turn my head to avert my eyes, and that’s when I see him. Asleep. Oh. My. God. Max. I am now wide awake and it’s all coming back to me.

I try to sit up, but the effort makes me woozy, and I lie back down. Why on earth would anyone drink if this is what it feels like the morning after? Maybe because the night before felt pretty damn great. That much I remember.

feel the hangover immediately. But it’s not nearly as brutal as I thought it would be, considering the amount of tequila we downed.

I can tell it’s going to be another gorgeous day in Ensenada from the way the sunlight hits the wall. Surf is probably up. I bet the breaks are sweet. Wouldn’t mind picking up a board and going out. I’m sure Kylie’s never surfed. I could teach her. How fun would that be?

I look down and catch a glimpse of my watch. Shit. It’s six thirty. I wish we had more time, but we don’t; we have to motivate. Graduation is in less than six hours.

Suddenly it doesn’t seem so important. I briefly think about missing it entirely, staying in Ensenada with Kylie. But that’s a no go. Kylie needs to be there. Reality rules, which is a bummer. I’m afraid of what happens when we get back to real life and Lily is waiting there for me. I shove that thought to the back of my mind. I’ll deal with it later. I’ve got six more hours with Kylie. I don’t want to think about Lily until I absolutely have to.

I turn over to see Kylie gazing at me through those impossibly long lashes. The sun bathes her brown skin in a golden glow. Damn, that’s a nice sight to wake up to.

I curl into Kylie, wrapping my arms her. I can feel the curves of her body as they melt into mine. She’s perfectly rounded. All positive space. The soft arcs of Kylie’s flesh feel so much more like home than Lily’s hard edges. Man, I’ve fallen hard. It’s only been twenty-four hours, but it feels like a lifetime.