He rolls his eyes. “That’s Rock and Rye. It’s whiskey and lemon. I keep it for when I get congested and didn’t want Trevor to find it. And that bottle you drank was a hundred years old.”
“Seriously?” I ask through another hiccup. “Will I get sick?”
“Doubt it. Will that be all today? Or do you want to go through my bathroom shit too?”
I hiccup again. “That was the plan. I didn’t get much time in there.”
He steps aside. “By all means.”
“You know,” I say, strolling through his room, “I didn’t want a boyfriend when we met.” I open one of his drawers and pull out his razor and carefully inspect it. He hasn’t used it in days, his beard growing in at a rapid rate, and I love it. He grew one when we were together back in college. A faint memory of the feel of it against my thighs has me rubbing them together. He crosses his arms at the door of the bathroom, as I continue my rant. “I didn’t want to be involved.”
“I remember.”
“You didn’t want a girlfriend, either,” I pick up his cologne off the side of the sink and inhale his scent. Big mistake.
“Nope. I didn’t. What’s your point?”
“But we happened anyway,” I pull out another drawer and find a platinum chain covered in years of debris. “Really?”
“That’s old as shit.”
“You really should clean your closet out. Lots of old shit in there too.”
“I’ll take that into consideration.”
“As well you should.” The last of the bottle kicks in, and I turn to him, pulling an old Chapstick from his drawer. “Now, this is just disgusting.” I drop it in the trash next to his toilet.
“I use that!”
“Yeah, well, you’ll thank me later.”
“Seriously, are you that bored? Or is this just a new hobby?”
“Well, the cabana boy around here isn’t being very hospitable.” I hiccup. “Worst vacation ever, by the way. Definitely no room service.”
“I can book you a flight in ten minutes.”
“Nope, I’m good here, I just won’t be giving a high hospitality rating.”
“Harper, I want to take a shower.”
“Don’t let me stop you. Finally, some entertainment.” I pull up my phone and hit my Spotify playlist, circling my finger. A second later, “Boss” by Little Simz fills the bathroom. “Make this good.”
“Bro,” Trevor walks in and looks between us with a goofy grin. “What’s going on in here?”
“Nothing, trust me. I’ve had better dates with my gay roommate.”
Trevor chuckles as Lance speaks up. “Harper is leaving.”
“Oh no, I’m not,” I say, hopping up on the sink counter.
Trevor studies me, taking a step into the bathroom, his smile widening. “You drunk?”
“Lil’ bit. Rock and Rye apparently. I have questions.”
Trevor leans against Lance’s bathroom door. “Fire away.”
I look to Lance instead. “You said you had enough friends.” I lift my hands. “Where are they?”
“What friends?” Trevor looks between us.
“His friends from high school.”
Lance clears his throat. “Harper, I need to shower. I have shit to do.”
“Me too. So?” I raise a brow, looking between them.
Trevor speaks up. “No one really stays here unless they have to.”
He’s covering for him. I can tell. It’s a sibling thing, and I know it well because I have my own. “Is that so?” I say like I’m concluding a point, which I’m not. It’s then I realize I got drunk in my ex-boyfriend’s closet, snooped through his things, stole his clothes, and am currently interrogating his little brother for absolutely no reason. Whatever skeletons Lance has, he’s not about to give them up, save his nasty Chapstick. René is insane, and I’m officially on the same train.
“Is that all?” Lance prompts, and I bob my head.
“For now.”
Trevor laughs as Lance shakes his head. “I see why you love her, brother. I really do.”
“At least one of you has some sense,” I hop off the sink as the first wave of nausea hits. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to freaking throw up.”
“Shit, grab her,” Lance says, just as I start sinking toward the floor.
I wake up in bed in the pitch dark, unsure of the time, and hear the noise of dinner. It’s seven. Jeannie runs a tight ship. Mealtimes do not vary. Head pounding, I make my way to the bathroom to pee and check my appearance. I look like I feel. My complexion ghastly white. I don’t have drunk amnesia, I remember vomiting—very, very well—while Lance held my hair.
Chalk resting in the back of my throat, I crank on the sink to get a quick drink and freeze when I see the color of my tongue. I lean in and inspect it to make sure my mind isn’t playing tricks on me.
“Oh my GOD! OH MY GOD!” I scream as I begin to inspect my teeth. I hear the thunder in the distance of two incoming Prescott boys as I furiously rinse my mouth. “Oh my GOD!” I gag out while I squirt half a tube of toothpaste on my finger.
Lance is the first to reach me and bursts into the bathroom on bated breath.
“What, Harper? What is it?” He darts his gaze around the room as I furiously scrub my teeth.
“Oh, God, Lance,” I’m gagging again, my heart thundering as I inspect my mouth. “Something’s wrong, Lance. Something’s so wrong!”
“What? Harper, you’re scaring the hell out of me.” I furiously wash my mouth as he presses me, putting his head level with mine at the sink as I cup water into my mouth. I’m struggling to get more in as Lance stills me and pulls me upright.
“Damnit, spill it.”
“I think,” I gag again, “I think I ate a bug.” I stick out my tongue just as Trevor pokes his head in. “Is she alright?”
“Out,” Lance says, closing the door on him, his back to me. Seconds pass, and slowly he lowers his head, pressing it into the door and rolling it back and forth before he turns to face me. And then he’s laughing. And though it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, I’m too busy freaking out to fully appreciate it.
“It’s not funny! What if it was a spider?! A cockroach?!”
“You didn’t eat a bug.”
“Then I’m dying. My tongue is fucking black, it’s BLACK! And how would you know if I ate a bug or not? Haven’t you seen those videos?”
He’s hysterical. “What videos?”
“The ones where on average, a human eats such and such amount of bugs a year!”
I squeeze the toothpaste into my hand and massage my gums with it as Lance wraps an arm around me, pulling me away from the sink, his chuckle slowing at my back. “Okay, calm down because I’m pretty sure you’re having an anxiety attack.”
“My whole tongue is black! It’s black. I ate a bug! A very big bug! You don’t think it will happen to you and bam! Jesus, if I find a leg in my teeth, I’ll never recover.”