Part 25 (1/2)
”Hey, you,” he answers after the fifth ring. ”What's up?”
”Hi, Nick. I have some questions for you. Can I come over?” I blurt out.
He pauses. ”Uh...yeah, sure. I'm kind of-really drunk, though.”
”That's okay,” I say quickly. ”I'll see you in about twenty minutes.”
What am I doing? I didn't mean to invite myself over. But I don't want to stay here, and I don't want to go home. My heart is beating much too fast, and I feel wildly unstable. If I'm going to go into hysterics, I'd rather do it somewhere relatively private, and with someone who won't judge me, and is maybe too drunk to remember it the next day.
Now I have to figure out how to get to Nick's from here.
Chapter 23.
I'm stuck until Bobo Frederico-Tanya's friend-comes striding out the door I'm standing next to, his long black duster billowing out behind him.
I've only ever said hi to him once or twice in pa.s.sing, but I dart after him, shamelessly begging for a ride. Lucky for me, he's a pretty nice guy, despite the slightly bulging, black-rimmed eyes and the fierce scowl. I expect him to lead me to a battered black pedo-van with goat head decals and painted over windows, but he stops at a dark blue Mercedes. Emo or not, he still goes to Leclare.
On the drive to Nick's, I compliment Bobo on his costume, only to be told with perfect sincerity that he's not wearing a costume. Oops. I guess he's not insulted since he asks me out as he cruises to a stop in front of Nick's large Tudor style house.
The crazy thing is-I say yes. I give him my number and tell him to give me a call. He programs it into his phone, looking as dazed as I feel. Then he actually leans in for a kiss-which I automatically block with my hand. I'm p.i.s.sed at Johnny-but not that p.i.s.sed.
”Holy s.h.i.+t, you look great,” Nick greets me at the door with a hug. He's grinning as he looks me up and down.
”Oh...” I forgot what I was wearing. ”Um, how's the knee doing?”
”Great...after ten shots. I can't even tell if I'm standing.” He moves aside to let me in. ”What about you? How are you feeling after your close call yesterday?”
”Like a sixty year old smoker with a fifty year habit,” I say with a laugh as I slide past him.
”I know how you feel. A couple years ago when I was into paintball, some d.i.c.k threw five smoke bombs out onto the field-right where I was standing. Man, I felt like jerky afterwards.”
”Right? It can't be good for the complexion.”
He awkwardly shuts the door, and gestures for me to follow him, limping a little. The inside of his house is gorgeous, but so cold, and the fancy brocade furniture looks like it belongs in a museum. Nick, in his ripped s.h.i.+rt and jeans, and tousled hair looks as out of place as I do.
He flops down on an uncomfortable-looking armchair that appears to have come out of a Jane Austen novel. ”What's up?” he asks, propping his bad leg up on a fat round ottoman.
I perch on the loveseat next to him, and take a deep breath. ”Okay, I, uh, heard some things tonight, and I...I need to ask you a few questions.”
”Oh, s.h.i.+t,” Nick mutters, letting his head fall back. ”That doesn't sound good. Look, if this is about Johnny-I'm sorry, but he's one of my best friends. It's not for me to say-”
”Oh, no, I know,” I say quickly, shaking my head. ”I'm not asking you to rat him out, or anything. I just want you to confirm a few things for me, okay?”
”I'm way too drunk for this,” he mumbles to the ceiling. Then he sits back up. ”Okay...shoot.”
Even though he tries not to, I catch his slightly bloodshot hazel eyes with my mine. ”Johnny and Laundry-Dani. Were they ever a couple?”
”Uh, no,” Nick replies cautiously. ”Toward the end of junior year they, uh, hooked up a few times. But they were never serious.”
So much for them being ”just friends,” as Johnny led me to believe! I want to snarl in fury, but I keep my features smooth for Nick's sake. If he knows how p.i.s.sed I am, he'd stop the information train to protect his friend. I have to be cool.
”Someone said they dated,” I say, trying to sound relieved that they were only screw buddies.
”Nah.” He s.h.i.+fts in the chair, carefully rearranging his leg. ”They're friends. Johnny's never had a serious relations.h.i.+p until you. Of course, he messed that up. Hey, any chance you could give him a break? Dude's miserable without you.”
”Could've fooled me,” I say bitterly. ”He looked happy as s.h.i.+t when he was glued against Dani tonight. But I guess that happens a lot when I'm not around, right?”
Nick's sleepy eyes suddenly widen. ”Oh...uh-oh. Look, it's not what you think, Juliet. They really are just friends now. Johnny just started hanging out with her again. He felt bad 'cause...uh, maybe you should talk to him about this. I can call him-”
”No, thanks,” I say with a growl. Then, leaning forward, I flash a smile that is probably terrifying. ”I'd rather talk to you, Nick. You'll tell me the truth, right?”
For a second, Nick stares wistfully at the fancy green bottle of beer on an antique side table next to him. Then he sighs, and gives me a direct look. ”Of course, I will. You're my friend, too, Juliet. But I swear, there's nothing to tell. They don't make plans to meet in secret. If they're both going to be somewhere, then they'll hang-as friends. But he won't talk to Dani around you because he knows it would upset you.”
”And now I sound like a jealous b.i.t.c.h,” I grumble, slumping against the hard back of the loveseat.
”Hey, I'm on your side.” Nick holds his hands up in a gesture of peace. ”Johnny would do anything to get you back-I know that for a fact.”
”Well, tonight I was going to...” I trail off with a sigh. ”Never mind. I need a drink. In fact, make that several. I'm pretty sure I need to be drunk right now.”
He chuckles sympathetically. ”Cheapest therapy around,” he says, grabbing his beer and saluting me with it. He takes a deep swig of it while I watch him intently.
”No, I mean it,” I say, sitting back up. I try to put on my most convincing face, despite my spider eyelashes and dead girl makeup. ”I trust you, Nick. Will you help me get drunk?”
”You're serious.” The grin seems to slide off his face.
”I am. And-” I hold up a hand to cut off his protests. ”I'll do it without you-but wouldn't it be safer if I did it here where you could supervise me?”
”But...you don't like the taste of alcohol.”
That reckless feeling settles over me, making my blood rush excitedly. ”I'm sure you could whip up something that will taste decent,” I say determinedly.
”Juliet, you shouldn't-”
”Please, Nick.”
Seeing my stubborn expression, he takes a long drink from his beer before letting his head fall back. ”Oh, s.h.i.+t.”
”You sure about this?”
Nick leans forward, his forearms resting on the bar in front of him. I've washed off my makeup and painfully removed my fake eyelashes-now I sit on a tall stool across from him, with the half dozen bottles of Pinnacle that Nick fetched from downstairs in front of me.
There's a wild fluttering in my stomach, and my heart is pounding, but outwardly I'm calm. I don't know what's going on with me right now. I no longer feel in control of my actions-and it's kind of a relief. I just want to let go for one night.