Bummer, I’m drunk enough that my crazy laugh is surfacing.
Yeah, Idefinitelyneed water.
Thank God I’m hanging with Sawyer tonight and not some guy I’m trying to impress. That would be so embarrassing.
I think I got this laugh from my dad, which I hate because I never asked for it. I sound like a Disney villain, and it only ever comes out when my guard is completely down.
But I’ve been hanging with my best friend, so of course it’s going to be down. Sawyer’s known me through everything—my highlights, my lowlights, my defeat and shame, my triumph. He’s been there for all of it, just the way Darian has… so of course I can unleash my villain laugh around him.
I just?—
“Here you go.” Sawyer holds out a glass, and I use my smile as a thank-you, reaching for it and downing the thing in one go.
“You’re still going to feel like trash in the morning. You know that, right?” He rests his hands on the railing, throwing me a little side-eye as his mouth lifts on the right.
I’ve always loved the way it does that.
His lopsided smile is cute.
I poke my finger into his barely there dimple. “I can sleep in tomorrow. I’ll be fine. And I’m notthatdrunk.”
“You’re so drunk. Because you suck at beer pong.”
A snort pops out of my nose. “I do not suck at beer pong.”
“Oh really? Is that the reason why I’m only a little buzzed and your villain laugh is coming out to play?”
“Shut up.” I nudge him, my deep laugh giving me away before I can slap my hand over my mouth.
He grins down at me and is about to say something else when we’re interrupted by a Tarzan cry.
Our heads whip up in unison to spot Mac on the edge of the roof, shirtless and beating his chest like a gorilla.
“What is he doing?” Cold fear sweeps through me, killing the blur around the edges of my vision.
My eyesight clears in an instant, my heart starting to race as I watch that maniac beat his chest a few more times, then throw himself off the roof with a loud shout.
“Oh my—” Fear clutches me, stealing my words as I push past Sawyer and race to the other side of the deck.
All I can hear is a mighty splash.
All I can see is my father sitting in a wheelchair.
My best friend is right behind me as we shove through the quickly forming crowd who are cheering and shouting and clapping and?—
Mac’s head resurfaces, his smile wild and triumphant as he flicks his black hair off his face. The roar from the crowd rises,people jumping around and celebrating like we’ve just won the NBA Finals.
Are they insane?
Mac could have really hurt himself. He could have died! He could have ended up in a fucking wheelchair!
As he swims toward the jetty, I move to get a better view of him climbing out of the water. His shorts are saturated, water running off them as he slops his way across the boards toward me.
I cross my arms and glare at him.
The second he catches my eye, his smile fades, replaced with a fleeting look of surprise before dropping into a scowl, which I meet head-on.
I can’t believe he just did that.
