“I guess Russell went over to Maggie’s house after the party.”
I sit straighter in my seat. Russell and Maggie are perfect together. Her breaking up with him was stupid. But if Russell went over there last night and she tried to call me, I hope that means they decided to work things out. “And?”
“And she’s going to Berkley now with him, so they can be together.”
What? Oh, my gosh! Oh, my gosh! Oh, my gosh! This is amazing! “Wait, Maggie didn’t apply to Berkley. That’s why they broke up to begin with.”
Asher reclines the passenger seat back and closes his eyes. “You’ll have to ask Maggie to give you all the details. I hung up the call when I realized the conversation wasn’t about you and shut your phone off. That way you could tell your mom it died.”
Maggie is already at the beach, reclined under an umbrella, by the time we arrive. Asher looks ready to relax, without a shirt and in a pair of shorts he grabbed from the gas station. I never paid attention to the tourist section each one has, but apparently, they sell bathing suits, flip-flops, and shirts with bikini bottoms painted on. Unlike him, though, I look and feel one hundred percent out of place in my jeans and an oversized shirt.
“You’re functioning better than I did after my first time being drunk,” Maggie teases.
I ignore her dig and wave at Russell, who tosses a football with a few guys I recognize but don’t know. “It’s been a morning.”
“I see this.” Maggie wiggles her eyebrows, probably referring to the fact that I am still wearing Asher’s shirt. I shoot her a look that says hell no and she giggles.
“Come on.” Maggie stands and grabs her oversized beach bag. “Let’s get you changed. We have some catching up to do.”
"Yeah we do!" I insist. "Berkley?"
"He applied for me and I got in. Can you believe it?" Maggie squeals with excitement as she gathers her bag that's filled to the brim with odds and ends. She lifts it onto her shoulder then places a hat on her head.
“We’ll be back soon,” I yell to Asher. He waves at me then jumps into a volleyball game like this morning never happened. How often does he do that? Push his shitty mornings to the back burner and pretend like life is great in front of his peers?
Maggie links her arm with mine once we’re up the stairs and safely on the boardwalk. Everyone has her faults, and Maggie, she has two left feet. It's a wonder how that woman can play the trombone and march at the same time. “All right, sweetie, I need all of the dirty details. What happened last night?”
“I need breakfast. I’m starving,” I deflect. Just because I can remember every painful, humiliating detail about last night's party doesn’t mean I want to relive it. “Can we talk about this after we eat?”
“Nuh-uh. We can walk over to the Red Onion and grab some brunch after you get changed. I want to know everything, like yesterday.”
I fill Maggie in on the party, and how I opened myself up to Asher by practically stripping only to be shot down, but I leave out what happened this morning. I don’t think Asher would want anyone to know how much of a jerk his stepdad is. Besides, there’s still the matter of the gun in my glove box.
“I don’t have anything to say about last night; everything seems different when you’re drunk,” Maggie replies from the other side of the stall in the bathroom. “But going off of how he acted on your couch before the party, it sounds like Asher might like you, sweetie.”
I switch my Converse sneakers with a pair of pink flip-flops Maggie brought, then slide the lock on my stall and step out. “I don’t know. He was pretty adamant last night that I was just his fake girlfriend.”
Maggie pulls a hair tie off her wrist and hands it to me. I usually have one on my wrist too, but there's no telling where it disappeared to. Her lips purse together as I twist my long strands into a braid. When I’m done she says, “Maybe he was trying to be nice. I mean, you were pretty wasted last night.”
“How would you know?” I raise my eyebrows at her. Just because I’ve only ever had one beer before last night and a few sips of champagne doesn’t mean I was a babbling idiot. I think I held my own pretty well, all things considered. Okay… that's a lie, but she doesn't need to know it. “You weren’t there.”
Maggie smirks and unzips a pocket on her beach bag. She pulls out her phone and shows me a video message I sent her last night, sometime between Asher’s texts and the ride home. I cringe watching myself tell her how amazing Russell was for ignoring Tabitha’s advances. I press the side button, darkening the screen, not needing to see more, and hand the phone back.
“See. Wasted.” Maggie snickers then slips her phone back into its hiding spot. “Let’s drop this off at your car. Then we can grab some brunch.”
When we get back from the Red Onion, Asher and Russell are playing against Liam and this guy named Kevin in a volleyball game. My stomach knots at the sight of Liam. I feel guilty
for throwing myself at Asher like I did last night. I have to remind myself that Liam and I aren’t together anymore, and he was all over Corah. I didn’t do anything wrong because, in Liam’s eyes, Asher is my boyfriend. If he doesn’t like what he saw, he should break up with Corah and do something about it.
“I didn’t invite them.” Maggie grimaces. Even if she does think Asher’s and my relationship is real, I’m sure she understands how hard it is to be around Liam. “I swear.”
“It’s fine.” I take a sip of my soda. I can do this. I can be loving and sweet on Asher if I have to. I just hope Liam and Corah don’t put on as much of a show this morning as they did yesterday. “I should have expected to see them. It is, after all, Saturday.”
“You’re right. It will be fine, because you have hunky Asher to distract you from Liam’s shenanigans.” Maggie hooks her arm through mine and we trek across the sand together. My steps falter when I realize Corah has set up her umbrella next to ours, but Maggie pulls me forward.
“Lainey.” Corah tilts her sunglasses down and greets me with a fake smile. She reaches across and sets her hand on my arm. “How are you feeling, love? You looked a little rough last night.”
“I’m fine.” I pull my arm free of Corah’s grasp. Just her skin on mine makes me want to throw up, but I’m not a bitch. It’s not Corah’s fault I hate her, it’s Liam’s. So, I mask the movement by pretending to need something out of Maggie’s beach bag. I grab a can of sunscreen and spray my legs. “How are you?”