Chelsea Cameron - My Sweetest Escape

The more alcohol the group consumed, the dirtier the stories got. Renee kept trying to shush them, as if they were going to poison my precious ears. Like it wasn’t anything I’d heard already. I’d been in college before. I also had the sneaking suspicion they’d been on their best behavior with me in the house.

“Oh, my God, do you remember that time I walked in on you in the shower?” Mase said to Renee.

“No, I cannot recall,” she said, becoming really interested in the half-devoured onion blossom. “But even if I did, that doesn’t mean it’s the kind of story one would tell in front of one’s impressionable younger sister.” Her words were sharp as knives and I think Mase and everyone else got the message. Then there was one of those silent moments where everyone is super uncomfortable and doesn’t know what to say. It stretched out until Dusty cleared his throat loudly and then made a whistling sound like an airplane diving and then crashing in a giant explosion. It was pretty accurate-sounding and made everyone laugh nervously. Our waiter chose that moment to come over and ask if anyone wanted more drinks. I got myself another Dr Pepper and Dusty got another Mountain Dew.

“You’re going to be up all night if you keep drinking that stuff,” I said. Of course we’d been the last people to arrive at the restaurant, so we’d gotten the last two chairs at the end of the table, so of course I was next to him.

“Maybe that’s my plan. Maybe I don’t sleep.”

All I could think of were supernatural creatures. “Vampire, werewolf or zombie?”

“All of the above,” he whispered and winked at me. Why was I talking to him again?

I stole a glance down the table at Renee, but Paul was telling her something and she was laughing. Thank you, Paul. I caught his eye and gave him a thumbs-up.

“Your sister is, um, protective,” Dusty said.

“It’s a recent development.”

He waved his hand for me to elaborate. “Due to...”

I rolled my eyes.

“None of your business.” I was not going into my life story with him even though he’d shared his. I didn’t ask him to. I didn’t care.

“I think we need to have a toast,” Darah said, raising her glass. I knew she wasn’t much of a beer drinker, but she seemed to have changed her mind. “To our new resident, Jos.”

“May her life decisions be much wiser than ours,” Mase finished for her. Glasses were raised and clinked and there was some minor beer sloshing as my ears turned red and I tried not to make eye contact with anyone. Yeah, my life decisions weren’t anyone’s business but mine.

I hate it when people say “seize the day.” Seizing sounds so violent. How about “love the day” or just “live the day”?

Live the day.

A pair of fingers snapped in front of my face, making me jump.

“Come back to earth, Red. You were orbiting somewhere else. That’s dangerous, you know.” I turned toward him and a retort formed on my lips, but I let it die. He wasn’t worth it. He didn’t understand. So I just gave him a sweet smile and imagined dumping the glass of Mountain Dew on his head. It would have been so satisfying, but I would have made a scene.

“Okay, okay, it’s time for some of us to go home because some of us have class tomorrow,” Renee said.

“She means me,” I said in a stage whisper to the entire table. They laughed, some more than others, but that was probably because of the beer and not because I was that funny.

“I can drive her,” Dusty said as everyone tried to figure out the bill and how much they should tip. Most of the guys did their guy thing and refused to let the poor delicate females even consider paying. After a few lectures about feminism and the increasing popularity of going Dutch, the guys won the battle and the ladies left the tip. Paul ended up paying for me, mostly because I was broke as shit.

“But then you’d have to go to our house and drop her off and then drive back. It’s no big deal—I’m fine to drive,” Renee said.

“It’s not a big deal. I forgot my phone at your place anyway.” He was totally lying. I’d seen it in his pocket, but I kept my mouth shut.

“If you don’t mind...”

“It’s no big deal, Ne,” he said. So I guess everyone was calling her that these days. She’d always hated it when Paul called her “Nene,” but I guess she was over it. You can only fight a nickname for so long before everyone just decides to use it with or without your permission.

What if I call you...Josie? Jo? Jojo? Lyn?

He’d finally agreed to call me Jossy, which was the only suggestion I could live with.

“You went away again, Red. You have a habit of doing that?” Dusty said, bringing me back again.

“None of your business.”

He laughed as we walked, and some of us stumbled a bit, out of the restaurant.

“You sound like a robot when you say that. Means I’ve hit on something you’d like to keep hidden. You’re one of those onion girls.”

“Onion girls?” I had a brief visual of a girl wearing an onion costume. “Are you saying I smell like an onion?”

We got to the car and I let him open the door, standing back and folding my arms. Damn, it was fun screwing with him. He was about to open it but pulled his arm back at the last second and walked around to his side of the car. I wrenched it open, got in and fastened my seat belt.

“No, I mean that you’re one of those girls with layers. You know, you’re more than just a pretty face. Plus, you don’t have to scrape through a layer of makeup to get there.” While it was true that I didn’t wear a lot of makeup, I used to, back when I wore skirts more often than pants and had to look good for any photo opportunity. I used to get up early every single day and straighten my hair and line my eyes just so. I had the cat eye thing down to a science. I honestly didn’t know where my eyeliner was. I definitely hadn’t seen it in months. Renee had probably stolen it.

“Is that a nice and slightly weird way of saying I look like crap?”

“Jesus, do you take everything negatively? Man, kick a guy for trying.” He shook his head and started making drum noises. “Your turn.”

“I’m not telling you my life story, Dusty.”

“I’m not asking for your life story. Just...give me something.”

“Why? What do you want from me?”

He shook his head, a different kind of smile on his face. It was almost shy. If anything about him could ever be considered shy.

“Nothing, Red. Absolutely nothing.”

And by the time I could think of something to say, we were back.

“I know you didn’t forget your phone, you liar. Is something burning?” I pretended to sniff the air as we walked up the front steps. “I think your pants are on fire, dude.”

“Ha-ha, you’re so funny.” He reached out and rang the doorbell. I raised my eyebrow. I would have just walked in. The bell dinged and then donged and Dusty made the exact same sound with his mouth. Somehow. The door opened, and Hunter gave both of us a look before holding the door open to let me in.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said to Dusty, but it sounded like a question. He tapped two fingers to his forehead and then flicked them upward in a little salute/wave. Yeah, okay.

“’Bye.”

Hunter was still looking at Dusty. Hmm. I was distracted from watching the two of them by a retching sound coming from the upstairs bathroom and then Mase yelling that he needed a hand. There was a sound like a herd of stampeding models as Renee and Taylor clacked their way up the stairs to take care of their fallen comrade.

“Jos, can you bring me up a glass of water?” Renee said over her shoulder as the puking sounds got louder. Lovely.

“Yeah, I’ll get right on it,” I said, giving her a thumbs-up and walking toward the kitchen. I set the glass in the sink, turning the water on, and tiptoed back to where I could hear Hunter and Dusty, but they couldn’t see me.