“Sometimes Pantera helps,” the Viking muttered, but he didn’t turn the radio back up.
“I’m not having a crisis,” Teddy said to her lap.
“Teddy, a man talked to you, and you said you had to puke and then ran away. That sounds like a crisis to me,” Kirsten said.
“In her defense, she did have to puke,” Eleanor said.
“I really did,” Teddy mumbled.
“Oh, I know. I was there,” Kirsten said. “But, like . . . what was up with you and that guy?”
Teddy sighed, looked out the window, then glanced back and forth between her two best friends (and also the Viking, who occasionally looked at her with concern in the rearview mirror). If she couldn’t tell the two people she loved most in the world and also one of their boyfriends about her bizarre, secret Internet pen pal relationship, then who could she tell?
So she told them.
She told them the whole story, about how she had emailed Everett in a fit of despair and it had scared her, but over time emailing a strange man she knew only from TV became less scary and more . . . comforting. Easier. Like talking to a friend. Like he was a friend now.
“Huh.” Eleanor tapped her chin. “Well, this is an interesting development.”
“This is great,” Kirsten said. “He’s cute. And he’s tall. And he seems nice.”
“Caring,” Eleanor added.
“Good with kids,” Kirsten said.
“Gentle,” the Viking added.
They all looked at him. “What?” he asked. “I watch TV, too.”
If tonight hadn’t happened, maybe Teddy never would have told everyone about Everett. It wasn’t that she thought they’d make fun of her, but . . . Well, okay, she kind of thought they might. After all, there was a part of it that was odd or at least unexpected. But she should’ve known her friends would never make her feel bad about something that mattered to her, even if the night did end with her vomiting in an alley.
“But he would never be into me. I mean, not me, me. The me in email, maybe. But ME?”
Eleanor scrutinized her. “You’re still drunk. How? You puked so much.”
“I mean . . .” Teddy sighed and looked out the window at the lights of the restaurants and shops as the Viking’s Honda Accord inched down the crowded street. A lit-up plastic jack-o’-lantern winked back at her from a bar window. “He was there with someone. With a girl. With four girls. He’s probably in a polygamous relationship. And he’s probably happy in his polygamous relationship with his four girlfriends. I bet he doesn’t even have time for a fifth girlfriend. Not that I want to be his fifth girlfriend. I want to be his only girlfriend. Or wait. I don’t wait to be his girlfriend at all! I just . . . Oh, forget it.”
She slumped against the side of the car, the window cold against her cheek, the slight bounce of the car rocking her to sleep.
“Wait!” Kirsten screeched so suddenly that everyone jumped, except for the Viking, who was apparently used to Kirsten yelling while he drove.
“What’s wrong?” Teddy asked, panicked.
“Pull in over there!” Kirsten frantically gestured across the street.
“Taco Bell?” Eleanor asked.
Kirsten smiled back at them. “This calls for Crunchwrap Supremes. Teddy, this dude is smoking. And he’s good with kids. And he’s gonna be so into you as soon as you tell him who you are.”
“Celebratory Crunchwrap Supremes!” Eleanor cheered. “The perfect drunchies!”
Teddy wrinkled her nose. “What’s a drunchie?”
“You sweet, innocent child,” Kirsten said with a headshake. “Drunk munchies. Drunchies. Something to shove down the ol’ gullet and soak up all the alcohol and questionable decisions. And trust me, the Taco Bell menu is scientifically designed to be perfect drunchies.”
As the Viking pulled into the drive-thru, Teddy couldn’t help but smile, even as she wondered if Taco Bell was actually the wisest decision right now. But whatever. Her friends remembered her ideal Taco Bell order and didn’t flinch when she puked and were happy when she was happy.
She might have mortally embarrassed herself in front of Everett St. James, but things weren’t so bad after all.
25
“So?” Natalie asked, eyes wide. “How’d it go?”
Everett looked down at the four women staring at him. Lillian took a sip of her beer.
He frowned and sat down. “I think I struck out.”
Natalie narrowed her eyes. “You think? What does that mean?”
Everett rubbed his neck. “Well, I said hi, and she told me she had to puke.”
Natalie stared at him.
“And then she ran away,” Everett added.
Natalie and Lillian exchanged a glance.
“Seems bad, right?” Everett asked.
“Here.” Natalie handed him her beer. “I haven’t had a drink of this yet, and you need it more than I do.”
Everett took a sip, then sighed. “Have I lost it? Did I ever even have it? I thought women liked me.”
Lillian lifted a shoulder. “Kinda sounds like you drove this one to nausea.”
Natalie elbowed her. “Not helpful. Are you sure there wasn’t something else going on? I mean, I’ve seen you around women. They love you, and they typically keep control of their bodily functions.”
“I guess my string of successful female interactions had to come to an end sometime,” Everett said, taking another drink. “Now women find me disgusting. I’ll just have to get used to the idea of dying alone. Can I have another beer?”
“On it,” Lillian said as she headed to the bar.
Natalie scooted over to take her place and put an arm around Everett. “Okay, so Puke Girl aside, aren’t you glad you came out tonight?”
Everett raised his eyebrows. “Listen to what you just said.”
“I mean, you killed it at karaoke. Pretty sure Prince himself, in the afterlife, put a hand to his ear and was like ‘Uh, what’s that? Some big white dude is absolutely doing my song justice?’”
“I don’t think that’s what happened,” Everett muttered to his empty bottle.
“And you got drunk,” Natalie said. “Isn’t that nice? Didn’t you enjoy that mai tai buzz?”
“I’m only a happy drunk for a while,” Everett said, peeling the paper off the bottle. “Now I’m tired and annoyed.”