Surviving Us (27 page)

She waggles her eyebrows at me and smirks. “I made friends with Lucky, one of the door guys, after you left to go stay with Granny. We shouldn’t have any issues on Thursdays and Fridays as long as he keeps his job there.”

I roll my eyes and laugh. “Okay, hooker. I’ll start getting ready.”

“Spill, woman. I’ve waited long enough,” Alyvia demands before taking a long pull from the straw floating in her margarita.

I shoot a confused look across the table at her, not sure how we went from talking about the food she had in Italy to this. “Spill what?” I ask confused. “Is the tequila already affecting your brain?”

“I’m just fine,” she sets her glass down forcefully and gives me
the look
, “but you’re not, and I want to know what’s going on.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just tired; it’s been a long day.”

“Bullshit. You got home over two weeks ago, and other than texting me to let me know you were home safely, our only interactions have been when I’ve reached out to you. All you can say about your trip that you wouldn’t shut up about for nearly six months beforehand is that ‘It was fun,’ and ‘The place was beautiful.’ And then, you show up this afternoon looking damn near anorexic, with dark, puffy circles under your eyes as if you haven’t eaten or slept in weeks.” She waves her arms around at me as if I should look at myself. “I tried to give you a few hours to get settled, hoping you’d open up to me on your own about whatever guy has you losing your damn mind, but since you’re obviously not going to do that, I’m asking again. What the fuck is going on?”

The unfinished taco on my plate suddenly becomes really interesting, so I pick at it as I try to find the right words to explain what happened. “Well, it sounds like you’ve got it all figured out, Nancy Drew.” I sigh, irritated at myself at how condescending my tone is. “Look, I’m sorry.” I look up at her apologetically. “You’re right. I just don’t know how to deal with these feelings. This is all new to me.”

“What happened? Who is he?” She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest with her eyes focused on me, ready to listen. “Who do I need to kill?”

“You don’t need to kill anyone.” I chuckle at her serious stature, knowing deep down she’d really take Davis to task if she ever got her hands on him. “Do you remember the guy from the airport? The one I sent you pictures of?”

“
Cougar Hunter?”
Her eyes light up with amusement.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” I reply with a nod. “Well, it turns out he was another survivor at the retreat, and we really hit it off.”

“Are you serious? That’s awesome! What’s his name?” she shrieks.

“Davis. Davis McKay.” I know the name won’t ring any bells for her. She follows sports like I follow fashion trends
—
not at all. Plus, she’s originally from Connecticut, only having moved here last year for school.

With a wave of her hand, she motions for me to continue with the story. “So we ended up sitting across the aisle from each other on the plane, and from the very beginning, we had this insane attraction. It was different than other cute guys I’ve hooked up with here . . . we just clicked in every way. We hung out for most of the trip, became pretty much inseparable for the two weeks, honestly, and as much as I tried not to fall for him, I did.”

“Where does this Davis live and what did he survive?”

“In Texas and a plane crash,” I reply, taking a big gulp from my glass of wine I’d opted for instead of a margarita. Alyvia gave me a weird look when I ordered it, but didn’t say anything.

She cringes. “Ooh, that’s awful. I can’t even imagine.”

My head bobs up and down in agreement. “It was only a couple of years ago, and he’s still pretty torn up over it, which was his excuse on why we shouldn’t continue to talk after we got home.” I throw back the rest of the glass, an attempt to drown out some of the pain.

“Did you sleep with him?”

I look at her like she’s grown a second head. “Of course I slept with him,” I whisper-shout. “We were on a luxurious tropical island for two weeks parading around in front of each other in swimsuits and drinking alcohol all day. What do you think happened?!”

Her body leans forward to the table and she lowers her voice to match mine. “I didn’t ask if you fucked him; I kind of assumed that happened. I want to know if you
slept
with him, like in a bed . . . all night—that thing you refuse to do with any other guy because of your mornings.”

I blink back the unwelcome tears as I answer. “Yeah, I did for the last half of the trip.”

“And did he see what happens?”

“No.” I shake my head, sighing. “It hasn’t happened since the first night we spent together. It was the night the tropical storm blew through, and I told him my story as he comforted me through the worst of it.”

“Not even since you’ve been home?” she questions curiously.

“Not even since I’ve been home,” I confirm.

“Hmmm,” is all she says for a few minutes, contemplating what all I just revealed to her.

Finally, she lifts the margarita to her mouth and slurps down the rest of it in one gulp. Finding her purse, she pulls out a Benjamin and throws it on the table before standing up from her chair. “Have you thought maybe
that
was his purpose for coming into your life? To help you get over the undeserved guilt that has plagued you for years?”

“Honestly, no,” I stand up next to her, grabbing my purse, “I’ve been too busy feeling sorry for myself to look at it from that angle.”

“Well, I think you should be thankful and enjoy the blessing he gave you, rather than worrying about all this other stuff.” Cocking her head to the side, she smiles wickedly. “Now, let’s go get you a nice buzz and find you a little hottie to help you forget all about this Davis McKay.”

Unfortunately, I don’t think it’s going to be that easy.

ALYVIA’S ‘LUCKY’ CONNECTION
came through like a champ
; w
e were ushered right inside Deli without even being asked for IDs. Now tucked away, sitting in a corner booth at the trendy live music venue located on the historic Campus Corner, I scan the roomful of people as I wait for Alyvia to come back from the bar with our drinks.

The crowd is an eclectic mix.
There’s everything from your typical college coed to the tattooed, blue-haired Mohawk guy with gages in his ear so big I could stick my thumbs through them. Everyone is chatting with their friends, enjoying a few drinks, and seemingly waiting for the band that’s setting up on stage to get started.

“Here, drink this.” Alyvia returns, handing me a shot glass filled with amber liquid. Based on the salted rim and lime wedged on the side, I’m assuming it’s tequila, and after one good whiff of the potent liquor, which burns the hairs inside my nose, I’m positive of it.

“No, thanks.” I push it over in front of her. “I told you I wanted a glass of wine.”

“Wine?!” She spits the word out as if it tastes bad in her mouth. “Seriously, what in the hell happened to you while you were gone? You do realize you’re still nineteen, right?” She lowers her voice when she says my age and shoves the small glass back in front of me, narrowing her eyes. “We’re here celebrating our new apartment together. You’re gonna take this nasty shot with me, and then we’re gonna drink some cheap ass beer while we listen to some hopefully decent music like normal college kids. Okay?” Raising her shot in the air, she cocks her head and gives me the you-aren’t-going-to-win-this look, waiting for me to do the same.

I sigh overdramatically and lift the glass to meet hers, clinking them in midair. “To my new bossy roommate,” I quip with a tinge of snarkiness.

With a deep belly laugh, she nods and grins. “To you loving your new bossy roommate.”

In a fluid motion, we simultaneously lick the salt, toss back the shot, and suck on the lime
—
an act we became all too familiar with last year at the numerous frat parties she insisted I go to with her. A shudder runs down my spine as the strong liquor blazes through my chest. I slam the glass down on the wooden surface and look up into Lyv’s shining eyes.

“There. That wasn’t so bad, now was it?”

“I’m not doing another,” I warn, snagging the bottle of beer out from in front of her and take a long drink, trying to mask the taste of the tequila still lingering on my tongue. “I don’t want to be completely worthless tomorrow when I go try to get my job back.”

“Would you relax and at least try to have a good time? I know you’re in a funk ‘cause of loverboy, but I promise you the combination of time and forcing yourself to do other things will help. I’ve been there. Remember how I was when you first met me? I thought my life was over when I came here and had to leave Shelton back in Connecticut.” Her voice is sympathetic, and I know she wants what’s best for me.

“I’m sorry. It’s still so fresh.” I shake my head at myself and the ridiculous way I’ve been acting. “You’re right though. I just need to be thankful for the experience, instead of mourning the loss.”

“That’s my girl.” She smiles and leans over to kiss my cheek. “I missed you, Bristol.”

“I missed you too, Lyv.”