Nobody in Particular(81)

Then her eyes open, and for a moment my confused brain won’t accept it, because how many times have I replayed this scene in my mind, willing Oscar’s eyes to open?

“Rose,” Danni moans, and it spurs me into movement. I fly to her side, and pull her into a sitting position.

“Hey, hey,” I say. Her head lolls to the side, and she surveys me through heavily lidded eyes. “Stay with me. What did you take?”

She makes a face. “Put me back down,” she slurs. “My head.”

“Danni, focus. Did you take something?”

“No.” She flops forward now, and I catch her so she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, her head leaning against my chest. “I don’t steal. Wait, I stole vodka. And wine.”

It takes me a beat longer than I’d like to admit to understand what she means. “Drugs,” I say. “Did you take anything?”

“No.”

“Did you leave your drink somewhere?”

Is that what Harriet meant? Did she know something? See something? Why didn’t I force her to come with me? Why didn’t I interrogate her further?

“I drank up here,” Danni grumbles into my chest. “I had Eleanor’s vodka.”

That’s when I notice the mostly empty bottle on the bedside table. Myriad emotions knock me sideways. She hasn’t taken anything. She isn’t overdosing. She’s just awfully drunk. Still not ideal, but not an emergency. Not right now. Not while she’s conscious, and holding a lucid conversation.

Danni lifts her head. “You’re shaking.”

I am, I realize. I can’t control it. My fingertips, my arms, my teeth, my core. There’s a silent scream settled in the back of my throat, pushing to be let out. I clamp my mouth shut to trap it, and then place a trembling hand over my lips. The room’s tilting and spinning, around and around, and I’m about to burst out of my skin. I’m in danger of collapsing under the weight of what I thought was happening, and I can’t shove it down. It’s not working. The more I try to control my breathing, the faster it gets, until I’m panting.

“Rose?” Danni asks, and I try to focus for her.

“What were you doing up here?” I ask. My teeth chatter as I speak, but I force the words out successfully. “Drinking alone?”

Danni shakes her head, then gestures vaguely behind her. On the bed is her phone, and the screen isn’t black. It’s in the middle of a video call with Rachel, who I recognize from Danni’s photos. “I was drinking with Rachel,” she says. “Except she’s drinking soda.”

That’s why I couldn’t reach her.

Suddenly, her shoulders tense. “Oh. Oh no,” she says.

“What?”

“I just remembered why I came here. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m really, really sorry.”

“What?” I demand, my voice near shouting-level. “What happened?”

“I … I was talking to Harriet.”

“And?”

She did take something. And now it’s Russian roulette from here, isn’t it?

“And … I’m sorry, Rose. I didn’t mean to, I swear. I didn’t want to. But we kissed.”

The words make no sense at all.

“You kissed … Harriet?” I repeat numbly.

“She kissed me,” Danni says. “But I couldn’t stop her. I didn’t realize what was happening until we’d already kissed, and some guys saw us. I’m so sorry, Rose. I didn’t—”

“Rose!” someone says from the doorway.

Molly, Eleanor, and Harriet are gathered, looking in on us. I can see from the look on Molly’s face that her fears echo mine. As soon as Danni looks over at them, Molly relaxes.

“Are you okay?” Harriet asks Danni.

“So that’s where my vodka went,” Eleanor says, craning her neck.

I zero in on Harriet. She kissed Danni. She kissed my very drunk girlfriend, against her will.

The fear from the last few minutes swirls and spirals and suddenly explodes, and I’m untangling myself from Danni and advancing on Harriet. She steps backward in alarm.

“I asked you what you did to her,” I hiss. Eleanor and Molly spring away from Harriet, wearing identical expressions of concern.

Harriet’s eyes widen. “I—I told you I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh, you didn’t want to explain to me why you thought it was okay to force yourself on my—friend?”

“It wasn’t like that!”

“She can’t even hold herself up!” I cry, throwing my arm backward to where Danni lies on the bed.

“She wasn’t that drunk when we kissed.”

“When you kissed her,” I shout.

“Rose, keep your voice down,” Molly urges.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I cry, ignoring Molly.

Theodore has arrived to see what all the shouting is about. He makes eye contact with me in a silent question, while Harriet holds her hands up in surrender. I reel on her, wanting to slap them down. “I’m sorry!” she cries.

“No, you’re not. You don’t even know what sorry is. I’m going to make you so fucking sorry, you’re going to spend the rest of your life recounting tonight to your therapist.”