Under the Same Stars(67)

The daydream made me ache.

“Hey, are you okay?” Someone waved their hand in front of my face. “Mads?”

I blinked to see Meredith. “Yes,” I blurted. “Yes, I’m fine!”

“Good, because it’s time for Prosecco Pong,” Reese said. “Are you in or out?”

“Totally in,” I said. “I’m just gonna run to the bathroom…”

Is Marco alive?! I texted the Princetonians after locking the powder room door behind me.

Yes, alive and thriving, Marco replied, and I felt like a moron for forgetting that he himself was in this chat. What’s up?

What’s up? I thought. WHAT’S UP?!

“You’ve been ignoring me all day,” I muttered as Timothy Hobson-Kirby IV texted: Can we get a play-by-play of the panty game?

Sorry, Marco told us, Zach said.

Simon: But he was under duress.

Their words blurred together a little, so I had to really focus when typing back: We’re about to play beer pong, but with champers. Any and all tips appreciated…

Marco privately texted me as the Princetonians poured pointers into our chat: You okay?

I didn’t respond; I didn’t know what to say.

A few minutes later, he tried again: How is it?

Miserable, I told him, then changed my mind. Magical.

I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry, I wanted to throw up.

But most of all, I wanted to hear his voice.

***

Never had I ever imagined Amanda Gallant and I would have a signature handshake, but we made one up about a half hour into Prosecco Pong (it ended with our fists exploding into fireworks). We trounced Yasmin and Meredith, and now were pretty much decimating Katie and Reese. “Drink!” Amanda shouted after I elegantly landed a hot pink Ping-Pong ball into a plastic champagne glass. Reese gave us the middle finger while steadying the bride so Katie could down the prosecco. I’d noticed she was starting to sway.

“New partners!” Courtney said in a crisp British accent after Amanda and I had bested everyone. (Apparently, she adopted a different nationality every time she got drunk.)

And like the ultracompetitive jock I was, I shouted Paige’s name, but giggly Yasmin grabbed my arm before Katie’s cousin and I could make confirmative eye contact.

That’s when I tasted revenge. “Do you have any hand-eye coordination?” I asked Yasmin.

“Nope, none.” She smiled. “My law firm’s softball team cut me!”

We fell into a fit of laughter; I soon felt tears pricking the corner of my eyes.

Across the pong table, Katie snickered. She and Paige were beating us so badly that she’d taken to drinking a non-gameplay glass of rosé. It was her move. “It ends here,” she said. “Right here, right now.”

She sunk the ball at center court.

I picked up the plastic glass and let the bubbles burn down my throat, then fizzle in my stomach. Yasmin hugged me for my service.

Katie made eye contact with me. “Next round?”

“Totally.” I nodded, then pointed at Paige. “Partners?”

The Bride folded her arms over her chest, but didn’t say anything.

Once Amanda had been crowned Prosecco Pong Champion of the Lake, it was time for Katie to guess whose panties were whose. “Hey.” Meredith lightly touched my arm as the others moved toward the clothesline. “How are you?”

“Thriving,” I told her. “Why?”

She gave me a look. “I know I’m not Harry or Lee,” she said quietly, “and I know I’m not Austin.” She paused. “But I am looking out for you, Mads, and I think you should call it a night.”

I stared at her, incredulous. “Call it a night? Like, go to bed?”

“No, I mean with the drinking.” She gestured to the frozen daiquiri Reese had handed me. Courtney had the blender going in the kitchen. “You’ve had a lot to drink.”

“Yeah, so has everyone,” I said, the back of my neck warming. “Katie’s drunk like ten times her weight in Whispering Angel and Summer Water and Bouquet of Roses and whatever other rosé we have.”

“I know,” Meredith said calmly. “But you’re—”

“God, what is the problem?” someone asked, and I turned to see Katie behind us. Her face was bright pink and her lips pursed; she looked pissed.

“Mads and I were just talking, Katie,” Meredith answered smoothly. “There’s no problem.”

“Yes, there is,” she said, but was looking at me instead of Meredith. Or glaring at me, more like. “What is wrong with you?”

“Me?” My eyebrows knitted together. Maybe Meredith was right; maybe it was time to tap out, because I had no idea what Katie was referencing. Had I been too intense during Prosecco Pong?

“This is my bachelorette,” Katie said, a catch in her voice. “And you are talking to literally everyone except me.”

Oh my god, I thought. She’s jealous I’m stealing her spotlight?

I knew the right thing to do was apologize. “Okay, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize I was being an attention whore.”

“No, it’s not that.” She shook her head, and her expression twisted like she couldn’t articulate what she meant. I glanced at Meredith, but not only had she backed away; she’d also shuttled the other bridesmaids into the kitchen, knowing they didn’t belong in whatever this “conversation” was. “These are my friends,” Katie said. “And you’re bonding with them.”