Chapter 16

Stevie McGabe

After filling up on some greasy fast food, Cameron walks me back home, where Rhea first hugs me tightly and then berates me for being stupid.

“Never ever do that to me again! I was this fucking close to calling your parents!” She pulls me in for another hug. “Don’t scare me like that, jellybean.”

“I’m sorry,” I reply, stroking her back. “I just need to escape from my brain for a little bit.”

“I’ll forgive you…this time,” she warns, wagging her finger at me in a way reminiscent of the way her mom tells her dad off.

“I should really go and call Darryl back and try to explain what happened. He was so mad when Cam answered my phone.”

“Go! Call lover boy. I’ve gotta get some sleep anyway, after being up most of the night worrying about you. Lucky I’m not on the breakfast shift tomorrow!” She pulls me in for one hug before slipping off to her bedroom.

I grab a can of Dr Pepper, craving something sweet, and wander into my own bedroom to make myself comfortable before calling Darryl, a call which I know won’t be great.

“Hey!” I frown, unsure if my boyfriend is the one who picks up—he sounds weird, like he’s under the influence of something, much too upbeat.

“Darryl?”~ I ask.

He clears his throat before he answers, and when he does, he sounds like his usual self. ~“Yeah…it’s me.”~

“You sound…different, somehow.”~ I pause, unsure how to continue. He’s gonna think the worst of me regardless, so I may as well just dive in and get it over with. Hopefully, we can just laugh together at how stupid I am for getting drunk. “I’m really sorry about earlier. Cam answered my phone before I could find it; I was so hungover. I mean, waking up in my underwear in a strange apartment is disorienting enough! But throw in the hangover from hell! Jeez!” I slap my hand to my forehead, shaking my head from side to side. Why the fuck do I say it like that?!

~“What?”~ Darryl’s voice is cold. It’s like speaking to him back when he first moved to San Francisco.

“That sounds so bad, I know,” I bray out some weird laugh, cringing at how false it sounds. “I threw up on myself, and Cam tried to get me into some of his clothes, but apparently I refused…I really don’t remember a thing, though.” I really don’t know why I think that would make it seem any better.

~“So, you mean to tell me…”~ he pauses, and I can almost feel his anger pouring down the phone line, ~“that my girlfriend was not only undressed by some fucking guy, but it happened when she was too fucking drunk to remember it.”~ Embarrassment, pure and unadulterated, courses through me, and tears start to wet my cheeks. ~“And I’m the one who’s untrustworthy. Fuck this.”~

With his harsh words and barely hidden rage, he’s gone, and I start sobbing, my heart splintering into a million pieces in my chest.

***

Too heartbroken and depressed to stay away, I jump on a plane the next day to go home. All I want is the comfort of my own bed and some sympathy from my mom and dad.

Rhea volunteers to track Darryl down and kick his ass for me, but I tell her it isn’t just him in the wrong; it’s me too. I know it’s dumb to get so drunk you can’t remember anything, but I do it anyway—on my own, too, which is even dumber.

But my feelings get even more trampled on when I check Instagram and see photos and videos of a party that evidently went on after the concert last night—it must have been after I spoke to him, which may have been the reason he sounded so weird on the phone. Darryl has well and truly fallen off the wagon from the looks of it, and seeing him all over some other girl is just the last nail in the coffin.

“Hey, kid,” Carrie barges into my room and flops down on the bed next to me. “I hear you’re feeling sorry for yourself.”

“I’m well within my rights to feel sorry for myself,” I snap, pulling my comforter out from under my sister’s body. “Darryl has no right to ream me out about cheating on him—when I ~didn’t~—and then go off and do the same. Publicly!”

Carrie scoffs. “You don’t honestly think he’d cheat, do you? That boy has been crazy about you since day one.”

“Oh yeah? What’s this then?” I shove my phone at her and watch as she scrolls through the same Instagram posts I’ve been torturing myself with.

“This? This is him acting out and trying to make you feel as jealous as he obviously does.” Carrie switches off my phone and lays it back down on the bed. “So, why would he think you had cheated on him?”

“After I went to see his band play, he wanted to screw me in his bunk like some common groupie—and this hot rocker chick that’s on tour with him kept making comments like they’d been hooking up or whatever—so I get mad and hurt and storm off.” I slump back into my warm sanctuary of sheets. “After seeing how many times he’d tried to contact me over the next couple of days, I don’t know…made me feel like I was in the wrong, not him. So, I go for a run to try and clear my head, and I may or may not get really drunk on a bottle or two of wine.” My voice goes up at the end, kind of like it was a question, and Carrie raises an eyebrow. “Anyway, Cam—”

“Who’s Cam?” Carrie interrupts.

“He’s on my writing course. Anyway, he finds me on a bench near his apartment, so he takes me home—”

“Why doesn’t he just take you back to yours? I assume he knows where you live, right?” she interrupts again.

“His place is closer, and apparently I’m a belligerent drunk, because when he tries to get me dressed again—”

“Uhm! Excuse me!” Carrie sits up and gives me her patented ‘big sister’ look—one full of disappointment and horror. “Tries to ~get you dressed again~! Why the fuck are you undressed in the first place?!”

I roll my eyes. “It’s nothing like that. I throw up on myself, and he takes my clothes off to wash them. I refuse to put on the shorts and T-shirt he gives me. I’m still in my underwear; it’s no big deal.”

“It’s a huge deal, Stevie! A guy should never undress a girl without her giving her express permission; it’s tantamount to sexual assault. That guy could have done anything to you if you were that drunk you don’t remember large chunks of the night. I don’t care if you think he’s a nice guy. You’ve only known him for five minutes.” She pushes up off the bed and starts pacing up and down my room, shaking her head. “To be totally honest, Stevie, I think Darryl has every right to be pissed at you. But, hey, maybe it’s a good thing this stuff has happened now. Now you can both just move on with growing up and getting on with your lives.”

A flash of anger heats my skin. “Don’t try to give me relationship advice, ~Caroline~. You’ve been out with how many guys? Oh, that’s right…~none.~ Just stop treating us both like we’re kids!”

Her jaw tightens, and I do feel a little bad when her brown eyes start to glisten with tears, but I am sick to death of being talked down to all the time, like me and Darryl aren’t old enough to know if we love each other or not.

“Fine,” she grits out. “I’ll leave you to it, seeing as how you know the answers to everything.”

My door slams behind her, making me wince, and I hear my mom shout after her, but my attention is drawn by a new post that Darryl has been tagged in—one of him in an embrace with that Dalia girl. And she is still wearing his hoodie.