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He nods and disappears into the room. I close the door part way, leaving it open a crack for Holden to come back. Then I start a warm bath and gather some towels, along with a complimentary lavender bubble bath left to use.
Holden knocks on the door and slips only his arm through the space as he holds out the cloth to me. I walk over and take it from him, and before I close the door all the way, I smile and whisper, “Thanks, I’ll see you in a bit.”
“I put your salad in the little fridge in there. Let me know if you need help with anything else.”
He’s too nice. I whisper another thanks and close the door quietly. I turn to my friend, who's currently dry heaving into the toilet.
All right, I need to get my girl better. This is no way to start a trip.
“Maybe she needsmy magic hangover cure,” Landon says. “I can whip it up real fast.”
“No, that’s okay. She needs to sleep.” I hold back my eye roll. His disgusting drink is more like it. I don’t care if he thinks it works. There’s no way I’m trying it.
“She said she slept earlier and felt worse. So maybe my idea is better.” Landon stretches out on his bed.
Maia and I are hanging out with Holden and Landon in the guys’ room. I didn’t want to disturb Everleigh after finally getting her to take a bath and into bed. It was hard enough convincing her to sleep, but she finally drifted off, exhausted from being sick all afternoon.
It’s almost time for dinner, and the rest of our friends are still out skiing. While I was helping Everleigh, Maia went with Landon and Holden to check out the rest of the lodge. My stomach rumbles; I never got around to eating my salad earlier.
“Not everyone wants your nasty drink, man. I can’t even stomach it,” Holden chimes in.
“Like that’s saying much.” Landon snorts.
Holden throws a pillow at Landon, and Maia and I give each other the look—boys, am I right?
“Everleigh can’t handle her liquor very well. We drink all the time, and she still gets this hungover?”
“It was tequila, cut her some slack. We’re not all alcoholics.” I throw the dig back at him. These guys love to joke, so surely, he can take the heat.
“Proud of it, Len.” He winks at me, and I cringe. “I can outdrink most of the guys in my fraternity. And it’s all thanks to my magical cure. No throwing up, no headache, nothing. You could pound the strongest liquor all night and impress the shit out of people.”
“You have heard of something called alcohol poisoning, right? People dying from drinking too much? Your so-called cure won’t prevent that,” Holden says, and I grin to myself at his nerdiness.Tell him, Holden.Anyone calling Landon out on his dumb shit is a real one.
“I did shots of one hundred proof liquor one night. Drank my cure before I crashed and woke up ready to do it all over again.”
“No wonder you got into that fraternity,” Maia says. “One kid died a few years ago during hell week. Horrible how much they make you drink.”
“They don’t make you drink.”
Holden snickers. “You don’t drink, you don’t get in.”
Landon sits up and shrugs. “My bros rely on my cure. They treat me like a damn god because of it.”
I can’t with this guy and his damn cocky attitude. He just avoids the questions he doesn’t want to answer. “Are you sure you’re not the only one who thinks that?” I ask.
Holden and Maia laugh at my zinger, but Landon looks at me, smiles, and narrows his eyes. “Just like how you’re the only one who thinks you’re not a hoe but we know you are?”
His words run through me like an ice cube down my back.What an asshole.
“Don’t talk to her like that, man. It’s not cool,” Holden says, his tone sharp in a way I haven’t heard before.
Landon stands and walks over to the door. “Whatever, I’m out of here.” He slams the door shut behind him, and I wince at the sound. Maia squeezes my hand.
“Fuck him,” she says as she pulls me in for a hug. I’m sitting with her on Rhett’s bed, both of us leaning on the headboard and pillows.
I hug her back but pull away quickly and pretend Landon’s words don’t bother me. Because they don’t.They don’t.“It’s all good, don’t worry about it. He didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”
“Len, don’t talk about yourself like that,” Maia replies, squeezing my hand a second time, having never let go from the first time.
