There’s a big poster board taped to the back wall with THE LAST SUPPER written across it in red paint. This is risky, because the paint doesn’t seem totally dry, and every piece of furniture in this house probably costs more than a car. At the bottom of the poster in Sharpie, someone else has scrawled WHAT’S SUP? And another person: EAT MY DICK!
Below that is a folding table piled with food—trays of cookies and breads Danielle made, plus some suspicious-looking brownies she clearly didn’t. There are electric tea candles everywhere, casting the party in a soft glow.
I carry the box of alcohol into the kitchen, my arms straining, trying to edge my way past groups of people who don’t seem to see me or care to get out of the way. I scan the room and see Hannah dancing with a group of girls from her field hockey team. Before I can try to make my way over to them, Chase comes up to me, nodding his head toward the cardboard box full of bottles.
“Collins!” he says. “What did you bring me?”
I tilt the box toward him and he grins, pulling out a bottle of tequila.
“Looks like we didn’t really need this,” I say, motioning to all the people around us who are clearly already wasted.
“Dude, no, you’re a god.” He twists the bottle open and takes a swig, wiping his mouth with his hand.
“You’re just drinking it straight?” I ask, wrinkling my nose in distaste.
“Believe me, I need this right now.” He takes another quick swig and holds the bottle out to me. I set down the box.
“No thanks.” I don’t want my head to be too clouded, especially by something like tequila, which Ava has always said “makes her clothes fall off.” “Hey, have you seen Andrew?”
Chase nods behind him. “He’s with the lady of the house.”
I look to where he’s motioned and that’s when I see them. Andrew is sitting on the couch in the TV room, Danielle perched on his lap. His hand is resting lightly on the thin strip of exposed skin between her shirt and her jean shorts.
“They look cozy,” I say.
“They’ve been on top of each other all night,” Chase says. “He’s like her tumor.” He takes another sip of tequila. Before I know what I’m doing, my hand reaches out and grasps the edge of the bottle.
“Can I have some of that actually? I changed my mind.”
“Be my guest.” He gives it to me. I pour it into a cup with a little margarita mix and then wince as I bring it to my lips. “It’s not poison,” Chase says.
“Actually, it sort of is.” I take a sip, expecting to shudder in disgust like I did with the whiskey, but it’s surprisingly good. Dangerously good. I suddenly understand why people sing upbeat, beachy songs about margaritas. I know I’m going to have to drink it really slowly or it will hit me fast.
I glance back and see Andrew tucking a lock of hair behind Danielle’s ear and something clenches in my gut. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. My gut was perfectly fine before the stupid Plan.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” I turn to Chase suddenly. If there’s ever going to be a time to get information out of him, it’s now, when we’re on the same side.
“Yeah, Collins, shoot,” he says. “You’ve seen me ass naked, so at this point what’s left to hide?”
“Did you write the notes?”
“What notes?”
I shake my head. “I mean that thing on the wall of the lounge. About Danielle.”
“Fuck no,” Chase says, and I believe him. “I would never be a dick like that.”
“Okay, but then why did you tell everyone you slept with her?” I take another sip of my drink and feel the heat of it spreading down my chest, making me more confident. I don’t know if maybe I’ve crossed a line and he’ll get mad, but at this point, I don’t really care anymore. Surprisingly, he just shrugs.
“I fucked up,” he says. “I shouldn’t have told Ryder. I’ve known the kid since kindergarten and I know he has a big mouth. But he’s my best friend. When you finally get with the girl you like, aren’t you allowed to tell your best friend?”
I think about all the personal things I’ve ever told Hannah, how upset I was learning that Andrew hooked up with Danielle and didn’t tell me. How can I be mad at Chase for spilling a secret he was excited about when it’s something we all do?
“You like her?” I glance over to the couch where she and Andrew are sitting. Of course he does.
“It’s too late now,” he says, following my gaze. “I blew it.”
“Ryder blew it,” I say. “You’re right—she can’t fault you for telling somebody. You’re not the one who told the whole school. Why didn’t you say something to him?”
“To Ryder? We’re in the final sprint of high school. Just ride it out, Collins.” He clinks his tequila bottle against my cup. “After next week, we’ll never have to see any of these people ever again.” Then he smiles and walk away, slinging his arm around Cecilia, who’s just come into the room and is scowling in the direction of the couch. It strikes me that even though I’ve seen him naked, I don’t really know Chase at all.
I make my way over to Hannah, and I can tell she’s tipsy. Her cheeks are flushed pink, her bangs messy.
“Keely!” she shouts when she sees me, like it’s been three years instead of three hours. “Happy last day of finals!” She’s with Molly Moye, the two of them swaying back and forth to the beat of some old Ariana Grande song.
“What have you been drinking?” I like the feel of her next to me, warm and secure.
“All of it,” she answers, bopping me on the nose.
“Are you excited for tomorrow?” Molly asks me. She holds her drink out in the direction of mine and I tap my cup against hers and take another long, tangy sip. I start to nod, about to say something about prom and how it’s a moment and all of the other phrases I’ve been forcing through my head for the last week or so, but I realize all of a sudden that no—I’m actually not that excited for tomorrow. When I think of tomorrow night, I don’t think of prom itself, of dancing with my friends, celebrating the end of school, the final few moments we’ll still be together. All I can think about is the hotel room that Dean and I got for afterward, the moment when we’ll both be undressed, right on the edge. The moment that I promised him.
Losing your virginity is supposed to be exciting, right? Tomorrow night is making my stomach swoop, but not like it’s full of butterflies. More like it’s full of gas. But I don’t want to think too much about it right now, so I take another long sip of my margarita and I lie to Molly.