I hear Granny Mae cussing under her breath.
“I’m fine. Told her to keep her paws off me. She had the audacity to try and invite herself to a college party,” I snicker.
“That woman is something else,” Granny Mae says.
“It’s fine,” I reply.
“Your daddy was hurting a lot when Catherine passed. I never saw him going for a young vulture like Amber, but you know we all grieve differently,” she says.
“I don’t know how you can defend him,” I answer. We’ve had this exact conversation probably a hundred times.
“You know what I’m going to say but I’ll say it anyway. Your dad was drowning in sorrow. He knew there was no way of replacing a lady like your mother so he didn’t even try,” she says.
“Amber was complaining he is never home,” I add.
“That doesn’t surprise me. Maybe he made a clouded judgment amidst the grief, but now he probably doesn’t know how to live with the consequences of his actions. We both know that a woman like Amber would take your father to the cleaners if he left her, and maybe he’s just happy enough to keep her as a side piece,” she says. I shouldn’t be surprised by her outrageous assumptions because it’s a part of what makes my grandmother an amazing person.
“That thought is making me nauseous. Can we please change the subject now?” I ask.
She giggles. “As long as I know you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. I’m looking forward to seeing you.”
“Me too. Kiddo,” she says.
I give her my itinerary and tell her I’ll see her Sunday. I head back to Westfall feeling all wound up, so I drop off my suitcases at the house and go for a long run because I can usually clear my mind when running. Only this time my mind isn’t clear. I’m thinking of Holland and the fact she lost her mother. How did I not know that about her? But then again how would I know anything at all? Rebel is tight-lipped when it comes to her best friend. Holland may have gotten under my skin but it doesn’t matter. For obvious reasons I can’t just take her to bed because Wolfe and Rebel would want to serve my head on a platter. Their friendships mean everything to me, considering my only other close family is a plane ride away. And Holland is clearly not looking to hook up either. Shit! Why am I dissecting what I feel about Holland Donovan? She and I are clearly not happening. There’s a roadblock the size of the Grand Canyon between us. There is no way I want to cross it or break it down. I just need to get her out of my head, which seems easier said than done.
Four
Holland
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into coming,” I say to Rebel.
“It’s going to be fun. I got us a frozen margarita mix. I’ve never tried a margarita before, but it looked so good in the picture and the guys bought this crazy slip and slide thing from Amazon,” she says excitedly.
“So you think I’m actually going to take this cover-up off and slide down a wet surface?” I ask Rebel as we make our way into the house.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I think,” Rebel answers as we walk into Wolfe’s place.
“I drove here, which means I wasn’t planning on drinking,” I remind her.
“You can drink and just crash at my house,” Rebel says since she lives around the corner.
“I need to keep a clear head,” I insist. Even though I will be writing the MCAT a year from now, I still take the time to watch the Khan Academy videos to help me prep.
I follow her into the kitchen. The house is already packed with people and from the kitchen window I can see the backyard is too. Music is playing through the house and the scent of barbecue wafts inside, making my stomach grumble.
“We are having fun tonight. No talk of internships, school, or writing the MCAT,” Rebel says and, sheesh, she knows me well. I could use a night off. I always hear students around me talking about some great party they went to and how much fun they had, but I honestly can’t remember the last time I had fun.
“Okay,” I agree. She’s right.
Rebel heads to the fridge to get the margarita mix she mentioned and also brings a tray of ice cubes. She dumps it all in the blender.
“This does look really good,” I admit.
She reaches for a cabinet and takes out a bottle of tequila and starts pouring it in the blender. She was never a drinker but seeing this side of her makes me happy. She is in love and enjoying life.
“Easy there,” I laugh because she’s poured in almost half the bottle.
“Uh Uh.” She shakes her head and laughs, pouring more tequila in the blender.
She turns on the blender and then fills two red Solo cups. “One of these and I think I’ll be wasted.”
She frowns. “Don’t stop yourself from having fun. I know things didn’t go so well with the football player, but I’m sure you can find someone here.”
“I don’t think the hookup thing is for me after all,” I admit. The sex was mediocre.
Cole saunters into the kitchen. I will the powers that be he didn’t hear what I just said.
“Why not, beautiful?” he asks.
Oh shit. Of course he heard.
I eye Rebel while gritting my jaw. How do I respond? She better help me out.
“So how’s the slip and slide going?” she asks Cole instead.
“Looks fun.” He shrugs. “You two going to try it?”
Rebel looks down at her prosthesis. “It may be too complicated.” Rebel was injured after her drug addicted father accidentally ran her and her sister over with his car. The accident left her an amputee.
“Nah, you could probably piggy back on Wolfe or something,” Cole says. It’s interesting how Rebel has become comfortable with her injury, not only around Wolfe but Cole too. Apparently, he was really good with Wolfe’s sister too after an accident left her in a wheelchair. Rebel sees the good in Cole, just like she saw the good in Wolfe.
“Maybe,” Rebel says like she’s considering it.
I take a long sip of the margarita. It’s sweet and refreshing and the mix drowns out the strong taste of the alcohol.
Cole turns to me. “I could take you on my back.”
“I’m good. Thanks. If I do it, I’ll go on my own,” I say.
“Okay. Okay.” He grins playfully. “I’ll catch you two later.”
He saunters off, wearing a pair of board shorts and a white tank top that shows off his tanned biceps, and I swallow hard at the sight of him.
“He really isn’t a bad guy,” Rebel informs me.
“Okay,” I answer.
She shakes her head with a smile like I frustrate her.
“This is really good,” I say feeling buzzed, as I take another sip of the margarita.
“I’m feeling it already,” she giggles. We head over to a makeshift dance floor in the family room and dance a little. With the nice buzz I have going on I feel relaxed. I just enjoy the party. My thoughts about life and school are fleeting. I’m living in the moment.
“Shall we get a refill?” Rebel asks.
“Sure,” I say, feeling hot from dancing. With so many people in the house the air-conditioning isn’t very cool.