In Real Life (25 page)

The adrenaline is still pumping through my system. I straighten up and smile at Frankie. “That was fun.”

She shakes her head. “So, do you always do that?”

“What?”

“Run away? You took off like you were on fire.”

She doesn't sound mad about me taking off and leaving her there, but when she says it, it dawns on me how much I do run from things. I ran from Nick just a few hours ago, when I didn't know what else to say to him. I ran from the roller coaster when everyone was going on it. I ran from Josh Ahmed when things got too weird.

I ran. I quit. I gave up. It's my first response whenever anything doesn't go my way.

I shrug. “I guess it's kinda my thing.”

“You're a funny girl, Hannah. I'm glad I met you tonight.” She pulls me into the ten millionth hug she's given me. “I'm going to hit up the cashier and get out of here.” She pulls away, but her hands are vice-tight on my shoulders. “Thanks for the advice, by the way. You're so right about Nick.”

“Sure,” I say, shrugging. “Anytime.”

She hugs me again, and this one is a tight one. “I'd love to stay friends.”

“Well, yeah,” I say as I stiffen up. I wish this hug would end already. “Of course we will.” If Nick still wants to be my friend after this disaster of a visit, which I completely doubt.

She finally lets me go; then she turns and skips off to the cashier, leaving me to slowly lower myself down on the floor in the elevator hallway.

Well, there it goes. My chance with Nick. I practically wrapped the two of them up in a chain and locked the padlock myself. But I had to. I couldn't lie to Frankie. I couldn't pretend like Nick wasn't the best thing that was ever going to happen to her. As much as I wanted to tell her to run far and fast and leave Nick free for me, I couldn't do it. Because running is my move, apparently. And, the truth is, they are good together. I can see it, even through my jealousy and my sadness. I can see it, and I can't steer her away.

And even if they aren't perfect for each other, at least she's willing to fight for him, which is more than I can say for myself.

After a few minutes of self-pity, I get up and press the elevator button to head back to my room. I'm all alone, and I'm out of things to run from.

 

CHAPTER

26

SUNDAY

The best thing about sleeping in a hotel room is the blackout curtains. They block out every speck of light from the outside world, so you can doze until some ungodly hour and remain blissfully clueless to the fact that life is happening outside, until your hunger wakes you up at a time that's closer to evening than morning.

Of course, I don't get that on my one night sleeping at Planet Hollywood, because no one bothered to close the blackout curtains in the first place. I'm woken up at 6:45
A.M.
by the sunrise reflecting off every shiny surface on the Las Vegas Strip and directly onto my eyes, only a few short hours after I stumbled up to the room, pounded on the door, and kicked Oscar out.

I drag myself out of bed and over to the window to shut the curtains. I pull them tight, grumbling that Lo doesn't seem to be disturbed by the light at all, the pillows from her bed covering every inch of her face. How does she breathe like that? I bump into her bed out of spite, but she doesn't even flinch. Ugh. There is nothing more annoying than someone sleeping peacefully when you couldn't be more awake. It's still early, though, and it's nice and dark now. Maybe it won't be too hard to fall back asleep.

Back under the covers, I stretch myself in every direction possible before I try to fall back asleep in the dark room. But as I stretch my legs out, I realize something. I'm in this bed alone. I spring up and look again over at Lo, covered in pillows. She's alone in her bed, too. I was so relieved she was Oscar-free over there, I didn't even realize she was also Grace-free.

How could I be so groggy that I didn't even notice my sister is missing? I didn't think I drank that much last night.

I pull my phone off the charger and check it. Nothing. No texts or calls from Grace at all. I call her, but her phone goes straight to voice mail, so I type
WHERE ARE YOU?!?
as quickly as I can and stare at the phone, willing her to reply. The sleepy haze of a few minutes ago is now replaced by adrenaline and paranoia. Is she dead in a Vegas gutter somewhere? Did Alex sell her into a life of stripping to buy a new guitar? Why hasn't she called me?

My head flops back down on the pillow, but my mind won't shut off. Every horrible thing that could possibly happen to my sister, alone on the streets of Las Vegas, is flashing through my mind. I text her again.
PLEASE CALL ASAP. I AM WORRIED ABOUT YOU.

A few minutes later, my phone vibrates. It's Grace. Thank God.
I'M DOWNSTAIRS. BE RIGHT UP.

Relief covers me like the hotel bed comforter. By the time my sister's key slides into the lock and the door beeps her entrance, I'm sitting upright on my bed, my leg shaking with worry.

“Where have you been?” I ask as soon as her face appears through the door. “I just woke up and realized you weren't here. I thought you were dead or something.”

Grace's hair under her beanie is a tangled mess. I can smell the booze coming off of her like she's wearing Eau de Liqueur perfume. Her makeup has completely worn off her face, and she looks exhausted. Exhausted but happy.

“Why are you smiling? Do you know what you've put me through?”

She sits on the bed next to me. “Calm down. I'm fine. Alex and I were hanging out at some locals bar off the Strip. I didn't even realize what time it was. There are no clocks anywhere, and you can't see the outside, and—”

“Your phone has a clock on it, Grace. And you had to know it was late. You could have at least texted me.”

I know I sound like our mom. In fact, I'm worse than Mom, who is never this panicked or naggy. Well, not with me, anyway, because I never do anything to cause her to freak out. But now I can see why Mom sometimes yells at Grace. I noticed she was gone only ten minutes ago, and it's been the worst ten minutes of my life.

“You knew I was with Alex. I was fine.”

I stand up, all the frustration that built up over the course of the night coming to a head. “I did not know that, Grace.” I've been trying to keep my voice low because Lo is sleeping, but now I don't even care anymore. This rant is for her, too. “I didn't know where you were going. I don't really know Alex, except that he's a total A-hole to his brother. I was worried, okay? Don't act like I have no reason to be upset because you took off and totally ditched me. That's not something I did wrong.”

“Hannah, Lo's sleeping. Lower your voice.”

“No. I won't. This is BS. We came here for me, so I could meet Nick. But things went to shit, and instead of helping me through this, you both ditched me for dudes at the first possible second. Lo kicked me out of the room so she could hook up with Oscar. I sat on the floor of the elevator hallway by myself in the middle of the night. And you, you left at the first available opportunity, didn't you? You said you were going to get intel for me. So, did you? What exactly did you find out for me?”

“Well,” she says, looking down at her hands. “We didn't really get a chance to talk—”

“Oh, so you didn't do the one thing you promised me you would do? What a shocker!”

Lo, apparently awakened by my early morning freak-out, sits up in bed. “What's happening?” she mumbles. She's still in last night's clothes, and she didn't bother to wash off her makeup, which is now smeared all over her face and all the pillows she had been smothering herself with. If only Oscar could see her now.

“Hannah, I am exhausted,” Grace says, rubbing her eyes. “So is Lo, obviously. We have a lot to talk about, but right now I think we all need to sleep, okay? Let's go to bed for now, and we can talk in a few hours.”

I know arguing with my sister right now is pretty pointless. She gets downright unreasonable when she hasn't had enough sleep. Throwing my hands in the air, I say, “Whatever,” and I crawl back into bed, rolling over so my back is to her.

I hear her wash her face in the bathroom, then change her clothes. I can't help but roll my eyes at the thought of her changing into her pajamas and getting into bed at 7:00
A.M.
, when there are people getting out of bed and changing out of their pajamas at this hour. Well, probably not in Vegas. But in other, normal places, that's totally what people are doing.

Eyes closed, I try to fall back to sleep, but I can't. The little bit of alcohol I'd had last night before I spilled it all over Lourdes and the blackjack table helped me pass out pretty quickly once I'd come up to the room. But now there is no booze in my system. The only thing running through me is my memory of last night and every single thing that has gone wrong:

My sister and my best friend ditched me.

I kissed Jordy.

I ruined things with Nick.

I pretty much gave up and handed him to Frankie.

I replay every scene over and over, from our arrival at House of Blues to Frankie's final hug. I mostly replay my moments with Nick—dancing at the wedding and together at the top of the Eiffel Tower. But those moments don't matter. I ran away. I ruined everything.

Trying to go back to sleep is useless, especially with Grace now snoring in my ear. I crawl out of bed, change and brush my teeth, and head downstairs to get some coffee and clear my head.

The casino is as packed first thing in the morning as it is late at night, but with a totally different crowd. Tourists and walk-of-shamers wander the casino floor, and I sit alone at the diner and sip my coffee, trying to figure out what I'm going to do, how I'm going to fix things with Nick. It's been years since I've been awake this long without some sort of contact from him, and I type and delete at least twenty different texts before giving up. After about ten coffee refills, I take my jitters out to the Strip, where I walk up Las Vegas Boulevard all the way to the Venetian and then back down again on the other side of the street. On some level, I'm aware I should be sightseeing and people watching. I mean, I've never been to Vegas before, and I just passed a line of people dressed up as dollar-store versions of popular cartoon characters. One sad wannabe Hello Kitty–esque person had her fake head off and balanced it in her lap while she smoked a cigarette. But I can't focus on anything other than all the mistakes I've made and the rules I've broken over the last twenty-four hours, and the long walk passes in a blur of sadness and regret.

Talk about a walk of shame. Nick and I are never going to be able to get past this. Four years of being each other's best friend, but neither one of us could be honest with each other.

Back at Planet Hollywood, I take the elevator up to the room. It's almost checkout time, and all I want to do is go home. Hands shaking from too much caffeine, I turn on the light and yell, “Wake up, girls, we're leaving!” at the top of my lungs.

“Turn off the light,” Grace mumbles, rolling over and covering her head with the pillow.

“Nope,” I say. “I gave you time to sleep. Now you need to get up so we can get out of here. It's almost noon. We need to check out, and I want to go home.”

Lo sits up, rubbing her eyes. “I thought we were going to go to the pool or something today.”

“That was the plan before I had the worst night of my life. Now the only thing I want to do is get back home. Can you please get out of bed and get dressed so we can go?”

“No,” Grace mumbles.

I pull the comforter off her and throw it onto the floor. “You don't get to say no. You didn't have the night I had. I don't want to be in Vegas another second. If I could fly home right now, I honestly would, because the idea of spending four hours in a car with the two of you sounds absolutely freaking miserable. But if that's what it takes to get me out of this place, then it's what needs to be done. Now, get up now. Before I really get upset.”

“Hannah—” Lo stands and wobbles toward me, but I hold my palm up, stopping her.

“I don't want to talk to you, either. Let's go.”

I guess they're scared by my tone. That coffee did more than just get me going; apparently, it made me sound borderline insane, and they clearly don't want to see what else I'm going to rant about. So, no pool, no shopping, no Girls Gone Wild. Nothing but silently packing, showering, getting in the car, and heading back to California.

The drive home is nothing like our drive there. The radio is on some generic Vegas radio station no one bothers to change. Grace curses at every car that comes within ten feet of her, and Lo sits in the backseat, curled as much into the fetal position as her seat belt will allow, moaning about her headache.

I ignore both of them.

“I'm hungry,” Lo mumbles from the back. “Need food. Need coffee. Need to chop off head.”

“I'm not stopping anywhere besides this gas station until we are well into California,” Grace says. “Run into the AMPM if you want something.” Neither of us makes a move to leave, so she growls at us. “I'm not even kidding. You're the one who made me leave before I was ready. Pee, eat, whatever. Do it now, because I'm not stopping later.”

I'm about to hop out of the car, leaving Lo to fend for herself, but I hear her moan from the backseat and I know she's struggling. Too much booze and Oscar, not enough water and sleep. I can only imagine the state of her head right now. I may be mad at her, but I'm not heartless.

“Do you want anything?”

“Coffee,” she mumbles. “And carbs. Find me some carbs.” She rolls over on the seat, and I head into the AMPM to get our food. I'm wandering through the aisles when my phone vibrates in my back pocket. A text.