The guys cheer and clap for us like we’ve reached some kind of stunning breakthrough. Zero holds out shots for both of us and I toss mine back as soon as it’s in my hand, then hold the glass out for another. Zero pours it with a proud smile on his face. I find an empty spot on a couch away from the other freshmen and drink in hopes of forgetting this ever happened.
Honestly, I would’ve rather been hazed.
FIVE
I’m stuck here for the night, so I might as well have some fun.
Dorian and Barbie end up on the couch with me, crowding me so close between them I can hardly move my arms. My vision lags as I look around the room at my teammates, laughing and drinking.
I dance. Someone dances with me. I think it’s Barbie, judging by how tall he feels against my back. For a second I’m sure Colie’s gonna suffocate he’s laughing so hard.
We all stare at Dorian when he shouts, “Hey, listen. Guys, listen! Rude-ass bitches. Anyway. Space. Don’t give me that look, bro. Fucking space. Think about this. The universe is never-ending, yeah? That’s terrifying. But it’s gotta be never-ending because if it ended, what would be on the other side? Scary, right?”
And I say, “No, you know what’s scarier than space? The ocean, dude. It’s what, like, seventy percent of the planet, but we’ve barely seen five percent of it. There could be sea monsters everywhere and we wouldn’t even know it.”
“Speaking of the ocean,” Colie says. “You know how salt water burns your eyes? And sweat? But our tears are salty, so why don’t they burn our eyes, too? Wicker, you’re premed. I need answers!”
I play a few games of knee hockey, giving it just as much effort as I put in on the ice.
I stand up and fall on Dorian and Barbie and everyone laughs.
I think I might be happy.
I don’t fall asleep on a couch with Jaysen.
But that’s where I wake up. We’re facing opposite directions with our legs tangled together, his toes digging painfully into my inner thigh. His face is buried in the back cushions, hands tucked into his armpits.
The upperclassmen must’ve all found their way down to their rooms, because it’s only freshmen and sophomores on the floor and couches up here. Dorian and Barbie are on the same couch I shared with them most of the night, Dorian curled into a ball to make up for Barbie’s size.
Everyone else is still asleep. Someone’s snoring.
My tongue feels thick and dry and my stomach rolls as I slowly push myself upright. Jaysen shifts when I try to move my legs, so I stop. I’m not ready to face the awkwardness when he wakes up. My head must’ve been wrapped in a blanket and bludgeoned repeatedly with the way it throbs. The raging hangover still doesn’t cover up the aching in my knees from the knee hockey.
But the most concerning thing is the fact that I am half-naked tangled up on a couch with Jaysen Caulfield. And I really have to pee.
I find my T-shirt and hoodie in a pile on the floor a few feet away. My jeans bite painfully into my hips as I try to get up again, careful not to jostle Jaysen too much, stopping whenever he stirs.
How much time am I missing? Did I stumble over to this couch after falling on Dorian and Barbie? Or was I still up for hours after that? It’s the last thing I remember, but I don’t even know what time it was at that point. As much as I love to drink, I don’t ever black out like this. I hate it. I hate not knowing. What’d I say? How much did I embarrass myself? What kind of secrets did I give up?
As soon as I get free from Jaysen’s legs and my bare feet touch the floor, he startles awake with a sharp breath and a hard kick to my hip. I hiss at the pain and slap his foot away while he looks at me with bleary eyes. He blinks a few times, and I drop my face into my hands, rubbing my temples. This whole house is spinning.
“Morning, Jesus,” Jaysen says, voice all sleep-rough. I turn my head and give him a what the hell look. He rolls his eyes. “C’mon, you don’t remember that? You climbed on the back of the couch, claimed to be Jesus, and demanded to be crucified just so you could rise again. Then you passed out.”
Okay, first of all, I need to stop drinking. But also, if I passed out on this couch, that means I was here first, so Jaysen chose to share it with me.
“Well, shit.” I clear my throat. Reach for one of the full bottles of water littering the floor. “I’m way too white to be Jesus.”
“That you are.” Jaysen sits up and stretches his arms above his head. I chug my water and keep my eyes fixed on the wall. “You’re also way more tolerable drunk.”