Meg Cabot - Size 14 Is Not Fat Either

I look at him in some alarm. “You mean this isn’t how you always are after a party?”

“Of course not,” Jordan slurs. “I only had one beer.”

“Yeah,” I say. “But how many glasses of wine did you have before you got downtown?”

“Only ten,” Jordan says innocently. “Hey. Speaking of which. Where are my skis?”

“Oh, I’m sure they’re fine, Jordan,” I say. “You can pick them up in the morning. Why would someone put something in your drink?”

“To take advantage of me, of course,” Jordan says. “Everyone wants a piece of me. Everyone wants a piece of Jordan Cartwright pie.”

Gavin, who gets a faceful of Jordan’s beery breath as he says this, wrinkles his nose. “Not me,” he says.

We’ve reached Cooper’s house. I stop to dig my keys from my purse, and give a mini-lecture as I do so.

“Now, when we get inside,” I say to Gavin, “we’re just going to dump Jordan on the couch in the living room. Then I’m taking you back to Fischer Hall.”

“I don’t need no escort,” Gavin says scornfully, his street slang coming back now that there are no Tau Phis in sight and he’s feeling cocky again.

“Those frat boys are angry,” I say. “And they know where you live—”

“Aw, hell, woman,” Gavin says. “Steve-O don’t know shit about me except my name. I was never cool enough for him ’cause I don’t like putting chemicals in my body.”

“Except twenty-one shots.”

“I mean except for alcohol,” Gavin amends.

“Fine,” I say. “We’ll argue about it later. First we’ll put Jordan down on the couch. Then we’ll worry about getting you home.”

“It’s two blocks away,” Gavin says.

“Heather.”

“Not now, Jordan,” I say. “Gavin, I just don’t want you—”

“Heather,” Jordan says again.

“What, Jordan?”

“Cooper’s looking at us.”

I look up.

And sure enough, there’s Cooper’s face in the window by the door. A second later, we hear the locks being thrown back.

“Okay,” I say to Gavin, my heart beginning to pound. “Change of plans. On the count of three, we ditch Jordan, then run like hell. One. Two.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Cooper says, as he comes out onto the stoop. He’s wearing cords and a wool sweater. He looks warm and calm and sensible. I long to throw myself at him, bury my head against his hard chest, breathe his Cooper-y scent, and tell him what a terrible evening I’ve had.

Instead, I say, “I can explain.”

“I’m sure you can,” Cooper says. “Well, come on. Get him inside.”

We drag Jordan inside, with effort—especially since Lucy appears and begins jumping excitedly all over us. Well, me, actually. Fortunately, my thighs are so frozen I can’t feel her nails as they rake my nylon stockings.

It’s as Lucy leaps up in an effort to lick Jordan’s hand that he suddenly becomes very vivacious, saying, as we haul him past Cooper, into the foyer, “Hi ya, bro! What’s happenin’?”

“Your fiancée called,” Cooper says, as he closes the door behind us and begins working all the locks. “That’s what’s happening. Did you just take off without telling anyone where you were going?”

“Pretty much,” Jordan says, as we let him go and he flops back against his grandfather’s somewhat dilapidated pink couch, where Lucy begins licking him in earnest. “Ow. Nice doggie. Make the room stop spinning, please.”

“How did he even get down here?” Cooper wants to know. “There aren’t any cabs. And no way Jordan took the subway.”

“He skied,” I explain lamely. It’s mercifully warm in the house. I can feel my thighs twitching as they defrost.

“He skied?” Cooper raises both eyebrows. “Where are his skis?”

“He lost them,” Gavin says.

Cooper seems to notice Gavin for the first time. “Oh,” he says. “You again, eh?”

“You shouldn’t be mad at Heather,” Gavin begins. “It was all that guy’s fault. See, she was trying to sober him up with a brisk walk around the park, but he wouldn’t go for it. Fortunately I was passing by and was able to help get him here, or who knows what would have happened. Guy could have frozen. Or worse. I hear there’s a doctor who jumps on any drunks he finds in the park and harvests their kidneys to donate to wealthy Bolivians on dialysis. You wake up in the morning all achy and you don’t know why—and boom. Turns out someone stole your kidney.”

Wow. Gavin really is the king of the improv. He lies with such ease, and so convincingly, I can’t help wondering how many of the stories he’s fed me over the months I’ve known him were fabrications like the one he just came up with.

Cooper, however, doesn’t look impressed.

“Right,” he says. “Well, thank you for your aid. I think we can handle it from here, though. So goodbye.”

“I’ll walk you back,” I start to say to Gavin, but a voice from the hallway interrupts me.

“There she is!” My dad comes in, dressed in pajamas and a robe. It’s clear from the way a tuft of what’s left of his hair is sticking up in the back that he’d been asleep, but Tania’s call had wakened him as well as Cooper. “Heather, we were so worried. When that Tania person phoned, and then we couldn’t find you—don’t you ever do that again, young lady! If you’re going to go out, you had better darn well tell one of us where you’re going.”

I blink, looking from my father to Cooper and back again. “Are you serious?” I ask incredulously.

“I’ll walk Gavin back,” Cooper says, making it evident that he’s anticipated my next move—avoidance. “Heather, get some blankets for Jordan. Alan, call Tania back and tell her Jordan’s crashing here for the night.”

Dad nods. “I’ll say he was at an impromptu bachelor party,” he tells us. “And came here to sleep so as not to disturb her.”

I just stare—mostly because I’ve forgotten my dad has a first name, and that Cooper had just used it. But also at the preposterousness of what Dad’s just said.

“Jordan doesn’t have any friends,” I say. “Who’s going to throw him a bachelor party? And he’d never be that considerate, not to disturb her.”

“I do so have friends,” Jordan insists from the couch, where Lucy has progressed to licking his face. “You two are my friends. Or six. Or however many you are.”

“I don’t need anyone to walk me back,” Gavin declares, as Cooper reaches for his coat.

“Maybe not,” Cooper says grimly. “But I need some fresh air. Come on.”

The two of them go out, leaving me alone with Jordan and my father—two men who both abandoned me when I needed them most, and then both came crawling back when I didn’t need—or want—them at all.

“You owe me,” I say to Jordan, after I’ve stalked back into the living room with a blanket—and a salad bowl to throw up in—for him. Even though I’m fairly positive he won’t remember any of this in the morning, I add, “And I’m still not coming to your wedding.” To my dad, I say, “Don’t tell Tania I was with him when you call her.”

“I may have been in prison for the past two decades, Heather,” Dad says, with wounded dignity. “But I still have some idea how these things work.”

“Well, good for you,” I say. Then, calling for Lucy, I hurry up the stairs to my own apartment, hoping if I lock the door and get in bed fast enough, I’ll miss Cooper’s return. I know Sarah would accuse me of practicing avoidance techniques.

But hey, when it comes to Cooper sometimes avoidance is the only way to go.