I know that high-pitched squeal, but recognizing the sound doesn’t stop me from jumping and hitting my head on the edge of the freezer door. I pop the top of my can, then rub the sore spot with my free hand while I take my first sip of the night. I don’t particularly like beer, but it hits faster than Jello.
Hattie runs into the kitchen, hands waving about like a madwoman, before throwing them around my neck. The sheer force of her embrace makes me stumble back against the fridge. I peel her blue tinged strands from my lipstick and force a laugh. While I’m happy to see Hattie, and for someone to be excited I’m here, I don’t feel gleeful. My skin is crawling, my stomach is twisting, and I need her to let me go before I hyperventilate. “Good to see you too, Hattie.”
“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” She releases me as the world begins to spin out of focus. Like almost everyone else here, Hattie is drunk. Unsurprising, considering how late it is.
I bite my lip, wondering
if I should have waited until morning to come by. I could have blamed missing her nineteenth birthday on a delayed flight, or something. Too bad I know myself. If I didn’t come out tonight, I wouldn’t have showed up at all.
Hattie grabs my hand and takes a step backward. “Two months is too long.”
I allow her to lead me towards the living room. There are too many memories in the kitchen. Here. There. Everywhere. “How’d you know it was me?”
She plops onto the faded green cushion, one leg under her, the other off the side, and gives me a lopsided grin. “Please. I’d know that flat ass anywhere.”
I can’t help but laugh when she slaps me on the thigh. It feels good to be back, but it also feels different. Landon and Hattie’s place has always been more like a home to me than my own, but tonight the air is thick.
I look around the tiny room. Nothing has physically changed, everything is the same as it was a few weeks ago, but there’s still a shift.
Maybe it’s me.
Maybe I’m different.
1 year earlier
A dark haired girl in a pair of faded skinny jeans and a floral crop-top leans against an older style red Nissan Altima, probably waiting for me. She pops her gum, not bothering to glance up from her phone as my rental car’s headlights paint her in yellow.
I park behind the Nissan and press the lock button on the keyfob out of habit. This neighborhood seems safe enough with its picket fences and solar powered street lights, but clicking the button again to unlock it is redundant.
The girl, I’m assuming to be Kelly Brewer, looks up, finally acknowledging my existence. “I take it you’re Layla?”
I smile and try to look excited for tonight. If I play my cards right, Kelly will think her mom and my aunt have set us up on a blind-friend-date because I’m visiting from Georgia, lame, and have no life. She doesn’t need to know that I’ve been sent as insurance. If Kelly stays out of trouble tonight, her mom has promised to donate to Aunt Tricia’s latest fundraiser.
My job is to make sure she doesn’t get arrested or pregnant, or do anything to jeopardize the twenty-thousand dollar check coming our way on Sunday. But hanging out with strangers for the night, doing god-knows-what, is one hundred percent out of my comfort zone. I’m an introvert at heart, only going out when absolutely necessary, and this is my personal hell.
“You must be Kelly.”
I extend my hand and let it hang in the air for a solid three seconds before dropping it back to my side. Kelly rolls her eyes and turns around while unlocking her car. “Let’s go.”
I pat my back pockets, double checking that I grabbed my phone. Satisfied that I have it, my driver’s license, and my debit card, I walk around to the passenger side of the Nissan.
Kelly’s door creaks as it opens. I force another smile, even though the woman has barely glanced at me, just in case she’s embarrassed. By the looks of the inside of her car, I doubt she cares about the sound her door makes. The front seat is disgusting, covered in receipts, fast food bags—that I hope are empty—and gas station Slupree cups. I push everything in the seat onto the floorboard, then buckle up.
I suck in a breath and grin again. If not for the darkness blanketing us, Kelly would for sure see my shaking hands. Going solely off what my Aunt Tricia told me about Kelly—that her parents think she parties too much and might need rehab—I’d say there’s a good chance we’re going to some kind of social gathering. I just hope tonight isn’t as much of a disaster as her car is.
Kelly turns her key in the ignition, then faces me, and wrinkles her nose. “Are you going to church?”
I tug the ends of the three-quarter sleeve pink sweater that covers my black tank top. I paired it with a pair of dark skinny jeans and ankle-high boots. I shake my head, thinking about how my parents would skin me alive if I went to Sunday service in something like this. “No.”
“Coulda fooled me,” Kelly scoffs, rolling her eyes again. She shifts the car into gear, but hesitates before pulling out of her driveway. “Just so we’re clear, if anyone asks, I don’t know you.”
I tuck my lips between my teeth and nod, slightly relieved. Judging by the leather miniskirt and neon orange tube top Kelly’s wearing, I’d say she’s the kind of girl who craves attention. I could be wrong, but we’ll see.
Me, I’m the blend into the background kind of girl. Pretending not to know Kelly, unless I’m in the confines of her car. “Sounds good to me.”
Three parties, one McDonald’s drive through run, a quick stop on the side of the road to pee, and we’re finally headed back to Kelly’s house.
I’m beyond ready. Back home, I’m not much of a partier. I go out every now and then when my parents force me to, but I don’t think I’ve ever stayed out this late.