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“Then Thursday it is,” Laura announces. “You really want to sort this out before your road trip,” she adds when I hesitate. “Unless you want to hash out what happened between you guys, with Grammy in the back?”
I glare at her, secretly impressed she managed to say that without laughing.
“Thursday sounds fantastic,” I grumble.
After the girls leave, I call Amy. I’d been wanting her to meet Laura and Annie, and Thursday seems like the perfect opportunity.
“About fricking time you called me back,” she curses. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been dying over here. Bloody dying. Tell me what happened,” she begs, her tone switching from annoyed to pleading in a matter of seconds.
“Sorry if I’ve cut you off from your source of entertainment,” I say dryly. “But this might make up for it.”
“You want a three way with me and Professor Sullivan,” Amy blurts out. “Because I’d totally be up for that.”
“Good to know.” I giggle. “And sorry to disappoint, but I’m just seeing if you want to come to the strip club Thursday night? Annie, one of my friends, has this stupid idea that it might help me remember.”
“Fuck yes,” Amy says. “I’m there. Count me in.”
“Good.” I grin. “I’ll text you the address—”
“No need. I used to work there.”
“Really?” I giggle. This is news to me.
“Bartending, Becca,” Amy growls. “What kind of girl do you think I am?”
“The kind of girl who would rather eat someone’s appendix than go down on her dad’s best friend,” I quip.
“It’s a game, Becca,” she mutters. “And if you saw him, you’d understand why I’d put anything in my mouth, before him.”
“See you Thursday.” I chuckle and toss my phone down on the couch.
If nothing else, Thursday night is going to be a laugh.Chapter NineBeccaThursday comes around much faster than I was expecting and before I know it, I’m standing in front of my mirror, getting ready to go out. My nerves have kicked up about three hundred percent, because I can’t stop thinking about what follows Thursday.
Friday.
Wow. Look at me, mastering the days of the week. The next thing I know, I’ll be counting to twenty. But tomorrow isn’t any old Friday, it’s road trip day. From when he picks me up in the morning, for the five hours it takes to get to his mom’s, it will be Liam and me, alone, in his car, with the weekend hovering over my head like a fungal infection.
I know my problems are trivial compared to what other people might be going through, but that doesn’t make them any less anxiety inducing. This entire scenario of not knowing if anything happened between Liam and I last Friday is stressing me the fuck out. This vulnerability is a new feeling for me and not one I like.
My usual way of dealing with stressful situations is to brush them off and pretend they don’t matter, because if everything is a joke, then I can convince myself that it’s no big deal when things go wrong. It’s a protection mechanism that I didn’t even realize I had until now. What makes everything worse is that Liam knows exactly what went on.
I give myself one last look over in the mirror and then walk out of my room and into the kitchen. Both Mom and Dad look up when I walk in. Dad smiles, but Mom narrows her eyes suspiciously. That right there shows you how different their parenting styles are.
To Dad, I’m his little girl who can do no wrong. To Mom, I’m her little girl who does everything wrong.
“Where are you off to?” Dad asks.
“Just out with Laura and Annie,” I explain. “And Amy,” I add. “How’s the foot?”
“Still broken,” he jokes. “It’s okay. I can even put weight on the cast.”
“Going anywhere special?” Mom asks, still frowning at me.
“Probably a movie?” I shrug, like it’s no big deal. “How’s the planning coming along?”
All I’ve heard about for the last four weeks is this ceremony. I probably know all the details better than they do, but it’s the only thing I know will distract Mom. Just as I suspected, Mom’s face lights up as she gives me the run down on what’s going on. The problem is, now I can’t shut her up.
“Run,” Dad jokes when she pauses to answer her phone.
I chuckle and take his advice, grabbing my keys and purse off the counter.
“Night, Dad.”“Okay, there are some rules before we go in.”
I turn around to stare at Annie in the back of the car and then Laura, who sits next to me. We’re outside the club, after I was roped into driving them because I owe them.
“Three drinks and I’m cutting you off. Got it?”
“Three?” cries Annie. “What am I, fifteen?”
“You act fifteen most of the time.” I pause to study her. “But you look closer to forty.”
