“Morning, pumpkin! Levi is watching cartoons upstairs, and—oh, you look rough,” says Mom after she opens the front door for me.
I grunt as I step into her house, feeling my brain knock against my skull with every slight movement. I deserve it, though. I deserve every punishment the world wants to throw at me today because I, Lucy Marshall, got drunk last night and made a complete fool of myself.
Yes, I remember it all in crystal-clear, humiliating technicolor. The moment I groped Cooper’s bicep. The moment I tried to cage him into the kitchen. And last, but definitely not least, the moment I tried to get him to sleep with me.
I cringe every time I remember the worlds falling out of my mouth. So sure. So confident. SO STUPID. Thank the stars above nothing happened and Cooper is a good guy, but I think we can all safely say he’s going to stay as far away from me as he can now. Any ambiguity or mystery I might have had concerning my feelings for him are gone. Last night, I might as well have been dancing around, holding a glittery poster board above my head that read I LOVE YOU, COOPER! LET’S GET MARRIED AND I’LL HAVE ALL YOUR BABIES!
I turn around and face my mom. “I’ve never asked too much of you, Mom, but today, I need you to run me over with your car.”
She curls her lips inward, making a cooky smile, and pats the side of my arm. “Did someone make a bad decision last nig
ht on her date?”
I cover my face with my hands. “No. Someone tried to, but the man wouldn’t let her because she was sloppy drunk.” I spread my fingers just enough to peek out.
She looks like she wants to burst out laughing but is composing herself for my benefit. “Well…that…sounds like you got your first date out of the way with a bang.” I wait for her to finish because I know what’s coming. “Or…I guess without one.”
She can’t contain her laughter anymore, and I shake my head. “Where did you learn to talk like that?”
“Oh please. I’ve been this way since long before you were even born. I just waited to use my foul language until you were tucked into your Minnie Mouse sheets at night. Now, come on, I’ll pour you a cup of coffee and you can lament.”
I trail behind my mom, slowly processing her words. There is a magical time in life where your parent shifts to being your friend, and I’ve entered it. I love that my mom doesn’t filter her language around me anymore. I love that she makes inappropriate jokes. If you had told me in high school that my mother even knew what the word bang meant, I would have laughed in your face. But here she is, pouring me coffee for my hangover and proving you don’t have to stop being yourself in life just because you have a kid—you just have to edit things for a bit.
“Okay, ma’am,”—that’s our longtime nickname for each other—“Levi is busy upstairs being a TV zombie, and your father is cleaning out the garage, so spill your guts.”
“Okay, prepare yourself. It’s not a pretty story.”
“If I wanted a pretty story, I’d go read a fairy tale. Now quit stalling.”
After making her promise not to tell Drew, I tell my mom everything from beginning to end, leaving out no details and laying my shame out on the table for her to stare at and judge. She doesn’t, though. She pats my hand and smiles softly. “Oh, hun.”
“Terrible, huh?”
“No.” Her dark navy eyes look deep into mine. “Sounds beautiful to me.”
I gape at her. “Which part? When I threw myself at a man, or when he rejected me?”
She shakes her head lightly. “You know what you’re doing, right?” I give her a dumbfounded look because I truly don’t know what she’s talking about. “You’re keeping yourself blindfolded on purpose. We both know that boy likes you, the clear evidence being that he followed you to the restaurant and flirted with you the whole time you were on a date. And we know he’s a good man because he put your sorry butt in bed last night and didn’t let you make a bigger fool out of yourself—both signs he cares about you.”
I pull my hand from hers and lean back in my chair. “Any good guy would have done that.”
“Rip that blindfold off, honey! No man is going to crash your date, sexy-text you all night to make you laugh, and then show up at your house with a bottle of wine after. Now, if you don’t admit to me right now that he likes you, I’m going to slap you upside the head.”
“You’re kinda violent in the mornings.”
She turns her head and eyes me from the side, a grin hovering on her mouth. “Don’t sidestep me, ma’am. Admit he has feelings for you.”
“Quit being so domineering, ma’am.”
“Admit it.”
I sigh and drop my forehead onto the table. “I don’t want to get my hopes up. I’ve aimed too high before. What if I do it again and he’s only being sweet to me because I’m Drew’s sister?”
“No, baby. Your inflection is all wrong—he’s only being sweet to you because you’re Drew’s sister. I think he’d like to be a lot less sweet with you, if you know what I mean, but your brother has probably put the fear of God in him.”
I pop my head up and whisper like it’s a revelation: “The bro code.”
“Yep. Exactly.” She sits back in her seat, a smug smile blooming.