“I did not chug that whole bottle.” My brain beats against the inside of my skull like it disagrees.
“Only ’cause Madison pried it out of your hands once you started sliding down the wall.”
“No, I think it was after he sat Nova and Barbie down next to each other and said now kiss,” Delilah says. She’s got her arms crossed and a disapproving scowl on her face.
“That was after he snuck the bottle back,” Madison says. “We had to take it from him several times.”
“I was obviously having a good time.” I gag at the tail end of a yawn and have to hold my breath for a second. “Why’d you kill my fun?”
“Alcohol poisoning, that’s why.”
I almost fall over as soon as I stand up, like my body has to drive the point home even further. I pull on the nearest hoodie I can find, which definitely isn’t mine with the way the sleeves swallow up my hands, and the same jeans from last night. I cover my bedhead with a snapback and the hood for good measure. “I got time to brush my teeth at least? Tastes like something died in my mouth.”
Bailey hands me a stick of gum from her sweater pocket, hood pulled low over her face and black makeup smudged under her eyes. At least I won’t be the only one looking like a wreck at breakfast.
“You can take my bed if you want, Barbie,” I say over my shoulder at the door. Barbie makes some noise of gratitude, but he doesn’t move except to watch Nova leave.
She walks with me at the back of the pack, looking a little rough herself. She twirls her phone in her fingers with a hint of a smile on her face.
“Barbie kept me up all night with his texting,” I tell her.
Her face flushes and she looks at the ground. “It was nice meeting him in person. I like him.”
I shrug. “He’s not bad.”
She sighs, tapping her phone against the palm of her hand. “Either way, I doubt it’ll go anywhere. I had to bribe my way into this weekend off.”
“Why don’t you just quit modeling and acting and stay home?”
She raises one eyebrow and purses her lips. “I’ll do that when you quit hockey, babe.”
I kick a pebble down the sidewalk. “Yeah, right. Might as well after last night.”
“C’mon, Mickey. It was one game. I’m sure everyone’s over it by now.”
“Not Cauler.”
“Oh boy. Talk to me.”
I hike my shoulders up to my ears, hands in the pockets of my jeans. “What’s there to say? He’s pissed and doesn’t wanna talk to me.”
She clicks her tongue and puts her arm through mine, pulling me closer. “Aw, babe. It’ll pass. If he really cut you off over a single hockey play, he wouldn’t be worth it anyway.”
I heave a sigh. I mean, I’d probably do that if he purposefully screwed me over on the rink, but maybe he’s a better person than me. “I guess.”
We get to the small café just off campus and sit at a table overlooking the lake. My anxiety kicks in as soon as I sit down.
If there was ever a time to tell them, now’s it.
After ordering, I hold my head up with my fist and stare out over the water while Mikayla goes into wedding and baby talk. I’ve only met my future brother-in-law a couple times, but I’m still standing up as one of his groomsmen. I don’t get why I can’t be with my sisters, but I’m not about to argue with the bride about it.
And the baby. I’ll see them as an infant, but after that they’ll probably be talking by the time I see them again. Probably won’t even recognize me.
Nova’s holding her phone out to Mikayla for approval on her bridesmaid dress when the server comes back with our food. I soak my home fries in syrup and shovel down a forkful, instantly feeling half as hungover as soon as it hits my stomach.
“If your baby’s a boy are you gonna name him Mickey to keep up the trend?” Delilah asks. A strand of her blue hair sticks to a spot of syrup on her chin.
“Hell no,” Mikayla says, screwing her face up in disgust. “That’d be freaking weird. I want gender neutral. Something like Jordan or Riley. And they’re not touching hockey unless they explicitly ask to.”
“Yikes. Dad’s gonna hate you.”
“He’s not that controlling,” Bailey argues, spooning sugar into her teacup.
Delilah stabs at her French toast. “Only ’cause we’re all athletes. Can you imagine if one of us had been into theater?”
“He does say field hockey isn’t real hockey a lot,” Madison adds quietly.