“Who cares?” She sits up and throws an arm around Andrew’s shoulder, trying to pull his attention away from the game and onto her. I can tell she’s had a lot of wine. Her hair is thrown up in a sloppy ponytail and her cheeks are bright red.
“Ava’s a cool chick,” Cody says. “Plus she’s a dime.”
“Yeah,” Danielle says. “If you’re into purple hair.”
Andrew is playing Princess Peach, and I watch as she shoots out a roadblock to my Toad, bumping him off the road. I turn to him and growl, but he’s so far in the lead now there’s no way I’m catching up. The cars careen around a turn and then Mario, Dean’s character, zooms across the finish line first. The tinny music coming from the TV turns triumphant as the characters dance around on the screen in celebration.
“Yes!” Dean shouts, pumping a fist into the air. “Take that, fuckers!”
Andrew is hitting his controller against his palm and I see him roll his eyes. Dean jumps off the couch and drops his controller onto the floor, then he switches off the TV, turning to me.
“Keely, you want to come hang out in my room?”
The question catches me off guard. I glance over at Andrew. He’s staring down at his controller.
“Um,” I say. “What time is it?”
“It’s only twelve thirty,” Cody says in the casual way of a college boy who doesn’t still live with his parents.
“Wait, really?” I jump off the couch. “I never told my mom where I was. I promised her I would come home early.” I dig through my bag for my phone and pull it out, and sure enough I have three voicemails. How could I have forgotten to check? “Gimme a sec,” I say to the guys before turning to wander down the hall. There’s no way I want Dean to hear me on a call with my mom.
She picks up after one ring.
“Hi, Mom,” I say. “Yes, I’m with Andrew.” I try to explain the situation to her, that we went over to a friend’s place after pizza and lost track of time, but she rages on about my birthday party, about how I need to be more responsible. It’s like she’s trying to push me away before I’ve even left home. I sigh and promise her I’ll come back, then end the call and head back into the living room.
“I’m so sorry, but I really have to go.”
“I can take you back on the bike,” Dean says. “We can walk back to Giovanni’s.”
“No way,” Andrew says. “You’ve had like two bottles of wine.”
“It’s no big deal,” Dean says. “I do it all the time.”
“Oh, so you’re a pro.” Andrew’s tone is flat and sarcastic. He turns to me. “I’ll just drop you off. I haven’t had anything to drink since the restaurant.”
“Okay,” I say, my voice hesitant.
He turns to Danielle. “And I can take you on the way.”
“Oh, I can walk from here,” she says.
“It’s no problem though.”
“Yeah, but it’s only twelve thirty.” She pouts. “I don’t want to leave yet. Not all of us have curfews.”
“It’s not a curfew,” I say. “She’s just worried because I forgot to tell her where I was.”
I know Danielle’s parents don’t care where she goes—that’s the whole reason we were able to leave her house a few weeks ago to go to Dean’s party. But I don’t like the idea of her staying here alone with Dean, especially since they’ve both been drinking.
Apparently Andrew feels the same way.
“Just let me drive you home,” he says.
“So you can kiss me good night?” She’s smirking, leaning her body toward him.
He runs his hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he says. “This was a date, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t kiss on the first date,” Danielle says, but still she gets up and follows him to the door. “Bye, James Dean, bye, Cody.”
“I’m really sorry,” I say to Dean. “I wish I could stay.”
“I wish you could too,” he says, and then he pulls me into his arms and kisses me in front of everyone. I’ve never had an audience to a kiss before. It makes me feel powerful, like I’m finally a real girl—one that counts. But there’s another part of me that can’t help the embarrassment that washes over me as Dean pulls away.
I know it’s because Andrew is watching.
Andrew’s truck has only two real seats, with a little bench connecting them that’s only really big enough for a child. Luckily, I’m pretty much child-sized, so we all fit up front—Andrew in the driver’s seat, Danielle in the passenger seat, and me squished in between them.
It’s uncomfortable, to say the least.
“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” I ask as Andrew slides his key in the ignition. Danielle turns on the radio and when a Beyoncé song comes on she blasts the music, singing along loudly, her voice raspy and off-key.
“I’m fine!” Andrew shouts so I can hear him. I turn the music down.
“Bitch!” Danielle says. She leaves it but continues mouthing the lyrics.
“I only had a few sips at the restaurant,” he says. “I knew if I got drunk, I’d, well . . . I just knew it wasn’t a good idea.”
“Thanks,” I say, because I know what he’s implying—what he can’t say in front of Danielle. He’s worried if he drank he would have given something away, would have let something slip about the Plan he wouldn’t be able to explain. “And thanks for taking me home.”
“You’re on the way,” he says, and the casualness of it stings a little bit.
The night is warm, but the air streaming through the window is raising goose bumps on the bare skin of my arms. I feel awkward sitting in between the two of them. Like I’m intruding. This is the end of their date, the part where he drives her home and drops her off and tells her he had a nice time. Now I’m here, squished in between them, each side of me touching a side of them.
Nobody is talking, and so I wonder if they feel weird too. I’m thankful for the music playing on the radio, because it drowns out some of my anxious thoughts.
It only takes about five minutes to get to Danielle’s house, and when Andrew pulls the truck to a stop in her driveway, I feel the awkwardness expanding—like the truck is a tank filling with water and we’re slowly going to drown.
“You’ll get inside okay?” Andrew asks. Danielle rummages through her bag for her keys, pulling out a key chain with a leopard-print heart. She pulls down the passenger-side mirror and checks out her reflection, using her thumb to wipe the skin around her eyes.