“You did four shots with a customer?” Marshall says. He looks equal parts impressed and aghast. “Can you imagine if I did that here?”
“Then the guy asked me for a kiss,” Carson says.
“You slapped him, I hope?”
“I was too angry to slap him. I kissed him good, trying to make a point, which was lost among all the people cheering us on and filming it.”
“Oh, Carson.”
“And that’s not even why I got fired,” Carson says. “I got fired because I insulted a barback who worked with me and she saw me doing coke in the ladies’ room and told our boss.”
Marshall is quiet. She has horrified him.
“My boss, George, the owner, had been clear about us never doing drugs on the job. So I got fired.”
“I’m sorry,” Marshall says.
“Don’t be,” Carson says. She stirs her Shirley Temple and watches the grenadine swirl through the ginger ale like watercolor paint. “I deserved it. George was way cooler than he had to be. He said he’ll give me a glowing reference when I get my act cleaned up.” She looks up at Marshall, who is staring at her, bar towel draped over the shoulder of his pink oxford shirt. He’s wearing a madras tie. He’s absolutely darling. “Which is what I’m trying to do now.”
“You’re doing pretty well,” Marshall says. “You made it through dinner with your family.”
“And I am not unproud of that,” Carson says. “But after my mom died, I went off the deep end. I was smoking too much, drinking too much, doing coke, taking pills.” She pauses. “I was abusing caffeine. I didn’t want to feel anything. Also, I was in a bad relationship that just ended, so I thought, What if I give up everything that’s hurting me and see if I feel better?” She takes a sip of her Shirley Temple. “I haven’t given up drinking forever. I haven’t given up weed forever. But I’m going to live clean until I feel strong enough to let those things back into my life.”
“Well, when you’re ready to date again, I’d love to take you out,” Marshall says.
“What about your little Lilly Pulitzer chickie?” Carson says. “The girl I saw you with at the Box.”
“That was my buddy’s girlfriend. I asked her to help me make you jealous.”
“Whaaaaa?” Carson says. “Are you serious?”
“I saw you dancing and I asked Peyton to pretend to be my date in front of you.” Marshall grins. “Did it work? Were you jealous?”
Carson laughs. She can’t believe sweet, adorable, fresh-as-pine-scented-air-off-a-deep-Oregon-lake Marshall would dream up such a long-game caper to get her attention. “Actually,” she says, “I was a little jealous.”
After Leo and Marissa leave the Field and Oar, Marissa wants to go to a party at Miacomet Beach—a bunch of summer kids from Connecticut they both know will be there—but Leo says he’s not up for it.
“Do you want me to drop you at the party?” he asks.
“I’m not going without you,” Marissa says.
“So I should take you home, then?”
“What is wrong with you?” Marissa says. “You didn’t stick up for me at all during dinner. Your entire family was making fun of our wedding plans, insinuating they won’t even happen—”
“Marissa,” he says. He swallows. He should just tell her: The wedding won’t happen. I’m not marrying you. I’m not in love with you. But he’s too tired for drama tonight. He’s too tired for drama anytime. He wishes Marissa would go to the party in her low-cut, extremely short dress and find someone else to sink her claws into. He wishes she and Peter Bridgeman had hooked up at the bonfire the night before his mother died.
This thought comes out of nowhere. Did he make it up? No, he thinks. He remembers seeing Marissa and Peter Bridgeman sitting together in the dunes—this was when Leo sneaked away from the bonfire with half a bottle of vodka that he’d snatched from someone’s cooler. Peter had his arm around Marissa; she was crying. This was before she drove her Jeep into the Bathtub and hitchhiked home （a story Leo still doesn’t quite believe; she would never, ever hitch a ride home with “some rando”）。 Did Peter Bridgeman take her home, then? He’d taken that picture…
Leo can’t ask Marissa to clarify the details. He doesn’t want to know the details. All he wants is Marissa out of his car.
“I’ll take you home,” he says.