I know I didn’t want to come here, but these people are so stinkin’ nice, I can’t help but like them. Avery and her dad are so warm and down-to-earth. My reservations about feeling uncomfortable melt away.
Avery leads me up this winding staircase in the main entrance hall.
“We have a guest room,” she says, looking back over her shoulder, “but I thought it might be fun for you to bunk with me.”
Why? I wouldn’t think it would be fun to have a sleepover with a complete stranger, especially if that girl is under a TRO and has an impending court date, but what do I know. Maybe this is the way they do things in Texas.
Avery’s room is gorgeous—and huge. She has her own bathroom with a vanity and sunken tub, a walk-in closet that’s almost as big as my bedroom at home, and a giant flat-screen TV on the wall in front of her bed. “The couch pulls out,” she says. “My room is sleepover friendly. It’s how my mom compensates for never being around. She lets me have friends stay whenever I want.”
“She works a lot?”
“Only all the time. Take my bed. You’re the guest.”
“No, no. That’s okay. I can’t take your bed,” I say.
“You sure?” she asks. “I want you to be comfortable.”
“Believe me, after the motel beds I’ve been sleeping in, I’ll be comfortable. Thank you for letting us all stay here. It’s really nice of you,” I say. “Are you sure two nights is okay?”
“It’s no trouble at all,” she says. “It’ll be fun.”
We stare at each other in silence for a few seconds, not in a bad way or anything, before I begin fumbling with my suitcase. I’m not sure what to say, but Avery is all over the elephant (i.e., me) in the room.
“So,” Avery begins. “I know we just met and all, but when Logan called me, he mentioned that you’d gotten into a minor mess and that your parents were making you come along.”
“Minor? Did he say I blew up my ex-boyfriend’s car?”
Avery is trying to suppress a smile. She’s struggling so hard to be polite to this psycho in her bedroom that it makes me laugh.
“I’m not carrying matches or a lighter. Swear. But if you want to change your mind and put me in the guest room, I completely understand.”
Avery starts laughing too. “Did he deserve it?”
“He was cheating on me.”
“Poop head.”
“I know!” I’m so grateful she’s on my side, I forgive the fact that she said “poop head.” She is just too cute in a nonslutty Barbie kind of way.
“You should have blown up her car too.”
I smile. It’s funny how a person can go from being a stranger to a friend with just one sentence. “She’s not old enough to drive.”
Her eyes widen. “Get out. Skank.”
“Total skank.”
“My boyfriend and I were together for four years when he cheated on me.”
“Four years!” I shout, louder than I intended. But I can’t imagine what I would have done to Joey if he’d screwed around on me after we’d been together that long. It would have cost him a testicle, I think.
“I wasted my high school years on him. I’m determined not to let it happen again in college,” Avery says.
Hmm. Maybe Logan is barking up the wrong tree, then.
“Got a picture?” Avery asks.
“Huh?”
“A picture of the ex? Got one?”
I remember I’m still in possession of both my phone and a few lingering Joey photos that I haven’t been able to delete, not yet. I pull up a close-up of him. I remember when I took this. It was October, my favorite time of year next to summer, and we were on our way to the homecoming game. My stomach wrenches when I look at it. I wonder when and if I’m ever going to have these kinds of memories of a guy again. Will taking pictures feel like I’m trying to capture the good stuff before it all goes bad? Right now, it’s hard to imagine the exciting part of falling in love. The hurt of the crash landing is still too fresh. I hold up my phone for Avery.
“Hello, blue eyes. I don’t blame you for losing it,” Avery says.
I can’t speak, but the tension goes out of my shoulders. It’s nice to have someone understand.
“Feel like going for a swim?” Avery asks.
“Sure.”
“Come on, then. The pool is awesome at night. You can kick back in the hot tub, too. Traveling with three guys must be getting old.”
“Totally!” I say. Finally. After three days and fifteen hundred miles of nonstop testosterone, a sympathetic face.
• • •
The night air is balmy, but the water feels even warmer as I sit on the side of the pool and dangle my feet in the deep end. The boys emerge from the pool house all suited up. Logan has abs and pecs to match his biceps and a sexy trail of hair that begins just above his belly button. But who’s looking? Joey had boyish good looks, but Logan is more man, inside and out. I’m relieved when he jumps in the pool and I can wipe the drool off my chin without anyone noticing.
Avery takes off her terry-cloth poolside dress to reveal an adorable halter-style bikini. She has a lean, muscular runner’s body. If she’s a cheerleader, she’s definitely the one who gets put on top of the pyramid. She steps onto the diving board and dives in. Spencer and Matty cannonball after her, but I suddenly feel self-conscious about my ample boobage and don’t want to take off my T-shirt just yet. I’ve been on the road with these guys since Saturday and I thought I was starting to feel like one of them. But right now, the idea of being half naked around them would be too weird. It’s stupid, I know. Matty has seen me in my bathing suit hundreds of times. When he’s not living in our house, he’s living in our aboveground pool.
Matty pops his head up near my toes.
“Why aren’t you coming in? You love night swimming.”
“Don’t rush me.”
Matty lightly splashes my legs. He knows I hate that. I retaliate by smacking the water’s surface with the bottom of my feet. I anticipate his next move and snatch my legs out of the pool before he can pull me in. But I’m too late. Hands grab my shoulders from behind and push me into the deep end. At least now I have an excuse for keeping my shirt on. I let myself slip underwater and pull the twist out of my hair before I break the surface. It feels good, like I’m cleansing myself of road grime—cheap motel soap, the car’s lingering french fry smell, random germs from rest stop bathrooms. I’m so relaxed I forget about being pushed in.
“I can’t believe you’re not even pissed at Logan,” Spencer says.
“It was Logan?” I’m still not angry but play along anyway. “You know what they say about payback. And I’ve got a strong track record.”
Avery starts laughing. “Sleep with one eye open, Logan. One eye open.”
This pool is amazing. Its low end has built-in seating, like an underwater shelf, and the heat rising from the hot tub makes me think of witches’ brew. I love the lulling sounds of summer bugs chirping and the hum of the pool filter. I float toward the deep end as I watch Logan and Avery in the shallow. He grabs her around the waist and throws her a good three feet into the air. She swims underwater and body checks his feet out from under him. I’m grabbing hold of the side, trying to suppress my jealousy and determine what, if anything, is going on between them when Matty swims up beside me.
“Race ya,” he says. “To the low end and back.” And just like that, we’re kids again.
“One, two—” I don’t wait, I push off. But so does Matty; he knows I never wait for three.
I slice through the water as fast as I can, doing my best freestyle. I make a swimmer’s turn and kick off from the side of the pool, but despite giving it my all (I’m quite competitive when I want to be), I lose to Matty by a whole body length.
“You beat me bad that time.”
“That shirt is weighing you down. Take it off for the second heat.”
“Nah, that’s okay. I’m ready to get out anyway.”
I s
wim over to the ladder and step out.
“There’re towels by the pool house,” Avery calls. “Help yourself.”
I find a stack of plush, sheet-size towels on a rack outside the pool house door. It’s like being at a hotel. I peer in the French doors and am completely blown away by the boys’ digs. There’s a pool table, several old-school arcade games like Ms. Pac-Man and Donkey Kong, and two sets of sectional leather sofas, which I’m guessing pull out into beds. Even if they don’t, they look plenty comfy as is. Holy shit. What does Avery’s dad do for a living?
I wrap myself in a plush, blue towel and sit on a stool at the resortlike wet bar, where I left my phone before I got in the pool. I do a quick check for messages. Nothing. I fire off a text to my mom. MADE IT TO TEXAS. ALL GOOD. XOXO. LUV U. It’s late, but I know she won’t sleep until she hears from me.
A few minutes later, Matty, Logan, and Spencer grab towels and join me. Avery scoots behind the bar and opens the mini-fridge. Matty sits on the stool beside me and puts out a hand. Without exchanging a word, I give him my phone for the night. It’s just as well. After showing Joey’s picture to Avery, I’m feeling vulnerable.
“This thing is stocked, ya know,” Avery says. “We’ve got beer, fruity drinks, wine, soda, water. Who wants a beer?”
“I’ll just have a water,” I say. Honestly, I don’t like the taste of alcohol that much.
“Guys? Beer?”
I can sense Matty hesitating to see what the guys will do. I don’t know why, but I’m surprised when Logan says: “I don’t drink.”
“Not ever?” Avery says. Guess she’s surprised too.
“Hardly ever,” he says. “Growing up—”
Avery, who is looking at Logan, seems to recall something. She holds up her hand. “Say no more. I remember.”
I’m confused. I look back and forth between Logan and Avery as some shared piece of knowledge passes between them. I don’t like not knowing what they’re talking about. It stings to be left out.
Spencer brings me out of the dark. “I guess you told her we’re the spawn of a mean drunk?” He says it matter-of-factly, like it’s no big secret, which makes me feel even worse.
Logan answers Spencer with a shrug that confirms he did and remains quiet, but Spencer keeps talking. “Yeah, our dad doesn’t know when to say when.”
Why didn’t Logan tell me? He could have mentioned this during our heart-to-heart in Arkansas. Even though it’s not her fault, I don’t like Avery knowing something I don’t. These are my guys.
A few awkward moments pass before Avery speaks. “Well, I’m the spawn of a renowned cardiologist.” She grabs a bottle of white wine and begins to open it with a corkscrew. “And she approves of drinking one glass of wine a day.”
“Isn’t red wine the one with all the antioxidants?” Spencer asks. No one acknowledges him.
“Does she approve of you drinking one glass of wine a day?” Matty asks.
“I don’t know. She’s not home enough to tell me what she thinks.” She doesn’t hide her bitterness. “And as long as no one is driving, my dad won’t say anything. He knows after I leave for college next month, I can drink whenever I want.”
My brain is still running in circles about Logan and Spencer’s father. How mean is mean? I wonder. Did that play into Logan’s decision to go to college two thousand miles from home? Wanderlust, bullshit. Surely Arizona State isn’t the only college in the country to offer a sustainability major. I watch Avery pour herself a glass of wine.
“Can I have one too?” I ask, suddenly wanting to appear more like Avery.
“Of course,” says Avery. She hands me the glass and pours herself another. “Matty?”
“I think I’ll stick with a beer,” Matty says. I promptly shoot him a look. When Avery bends down to look in the mini-fridge, I mouth: “Only one.” Matty may think he’s in charge of me during this road trip, but I’m still older. Matty never drinks, and I don’t want him getting carried away. But at the same time, I don’t want to embarrass him in front of a cute girl.
“So, your mom’s a cardiologist?” Matty asks. “Do you want to become a doctor too?”
Polite conversation or flirting? It’s hard to tell with Matty.
“Me? No. I want to help people in some way, though. My dad is a social worker. I thought about that for a while, but I’m more interested in the big picture. That’s what drew me to the sustainability major at ASU. I’ve also been looking into the Peace Corps for after college. This summer, I’m going to work for Habitat for Humanity.”
The Peace Corps? Habitat for Humanity? “Wow,” I say. No wonder Logan likes her. They’ve got a lot in common. I’m slightly envious that Avery knows what she wants to do with her life. I’m slightly envious of Avery, period. I’m starting to feel silly that I never once considered leaving New Jersey, especially not for some underdeveloped country. Painful shots, giant insects—not my thing. But what have I done for mankind lately beyond contributing a gift to the Toys for Tots booth at the mall every Christmas?
“What about you?” Avery asks me. I’ve been quiet, and I can tell she’s being nice and trying to bring me into the conversation. “Any ideas about what you wanna be when you grow up?”
Uh, Joey’s wife. That would have been my answer a few weeks ago. What do I say here? To be honest, I’ve thought about applying to the Fashion Institute of Technology in the city. But I haven’t told a soul, and I don’t want anyone laughing at my dream of designing wedding gowns right now. “I’m not sure,” I say.
I sound stupid and immature, and not at all like the kind of girl whom Logan would confide in or drive hundreds of miles out of his way to visit. I’m recognizing how much I want Logan to see me as more than just this impulsive, pain-in-the-ass, emotional overeater. I’m not giving him much to work with, am I? I’d pick Avery too. Suddenly, I feel drained. If I close my eyes, I think I might fall asleep on this bar stool. I push my unfinished wine away. Avery finishes her drink and turns to me. “You ’bout ready for bed? Y’all must be tired.”
“Exhausted,” I reply.
“Not so much,” Matty says.
“Mind if we check out those video games?” Spencer asks.
“Make yourself at home. The pool house is all yours. Me and Rosie will see you at breakfast. Anyone want to go for a morning run?”
She puts her hand on Logan’s shoulder as if she already knows his answer.
“Sure,” Logan says. Spencer nods.
“Maybe,” Matty says. Maybe? That boy doesn’t run unless the basketball coach makes him do wind sprints. Is Matty trying to make a move on a girl Logan’s into, a girl who also happens to be two years older than him?
“Okay, I’ll come by for y’all around seven.”
Seven? Ha! That seals the deal. Matty will still be drooling on his pillow.
“What about you, Rosie?”
I’d get winded before I made it to the end of the driveway. “Uh, I don’t even own running shoes. But breakfast, I’m there.”
“We can get mani-pedis afterward.”
“Now you’re speaking my language,” I say. I give the boys a half wave and feel a pang of separation anxiety. Why? I’m not exactly sure. I should be thrilled to get away from them for a night. I shake it off and follow Avery into the house and up to her room, where, after a shower in her private bathroom, I collapse on the pull-out bed. I’m in that weird state between dreamland and consciousness when Avery’s voice pipes up in the darkness.
“We hooked up, ya know.”
“Waa?” I mumble. I meant “who,” but it didn’t come out that way.
“Logan and I. We hooked up.”
“Tonight?”
“Back in May. At prefreshman orientation. I let things go a bit too far. I feel kinda bad about it.”
Her words blow through my brain like a cold front clearing away heavy humidity. How far is too far? None of your damned business, Rosie, says the part of me that wants to be a polite houseguest.
“Anyway, I thought you should know. I see the way he looks at you. Don’t get me wrong, I like having Logan as a friend. We’re into the same things, he’s fun to talk to and text and all that, but like I said, I don’t want to start college as someone’s girlfriend.”
“I don’t blame you,” I say.
“For hooking up with Logan or wanting to stay single?”
“Both.” I appreciate her honesty and want to return the favor.
We’re silent for a couple of seconds before I ask, “How does Logan look at me?”
“The same way you look at him, silly,” she says. I can hear the smile in her voice. “Night, Rosie.”
“Night, Avery.” I hope she hears me smiling back.
Chapter 11
“Joey called.”
I open my eyes slowly. I’m not sure where I am and if I’m hearing properly. A girl’s knees come into focus. Avery. Now I remember. I rode into Texas yesterday in a Ford Taurus with Matty, Logan, Spencer, and one guitar.
“What?” I sit up, trying to shake the sleep off.
“Matty told me. Joey called. Mister Blue Eyes. That’s him, right?”
My heads swims with a mixture of curiosity and anxiety. “Yes. When? What did he say? Did Matty talk to him? Did Joey leave a voice mail?”
“I don’t know the specifics. After our run, Matty was going to tell you himself, but I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about him barging in here first thing in the morning. I told him I’d give you the message.”
“Thanks, but I’m okay with Matty barging in. That’s normal at my house.”
I throw off the covers and get out of bed.
“Y’all are pretty close, huh?”
I don’t feel like talking about Matty right now. I feel like running downstairs and finding out what the deal is, but I pause for a second and try to be polite. “Close? I guess. Like siblings that don’t always get along.”
“But you’re not siblings. And you don’t always fight,” Avery says with a knowing smile that I choose to ignore. Is she stalling? Is this about Matty or is this about her not wanting me to find out what the hell Joey said? I’m getting agitated. Who am I kidding? I am agitated. Lately, I’m always agitated.
How My Summer Went Up in Flames Page 9