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“Who’s up for darts?” Ezra, a junior on the team, stumbles over to us.
Great, the whole team is wasted.
“Can you even throw straight right now?” I ask.
He grins. “Only one way to find out.”
Ezra probably can. His accuracy is similar to a sniper’s.
I roll my eyes, then spot Cassia pushing toward the edge of the formerly open space now serving as a makeshift dancefloor.
“Stay away from sharp objects,” I advise, then head straight for her.
Cassia stiffens when I grab her arm. Then smiles when she registers who it is, wide and sloppy. She steps into me, flinging her arms over my shoulders and shoving her hands into my hair. She’s draped over me like a blanket, letting me support most of her body weight.
“You okay?” I whisper into her hair. Actually, considering the noise level in here, it’s probably more of a shout.
“Sogood,” she tells me. Her face turns into my neck, her lips warm and wet.
“Yeah, remember that in the morning,” I say, steering her toward the bar. “Let’s get you some water.”
If I had no idea why she was so upset, I’d be more worried. But even knowing, I’m uneasy.
This isn’t her, skipping class and suggesting we come here after dinner. She faces things head-on, like showing up at the campsite. She doesn’t duck and avoid the way I try to.
And I guess I now know how she’s felt every time I’ve spiraled into self-destruction. It’sawful, watching someone you love struggle and being powerless to fix it.
She squints at me as I hand her the cup of ice water the bartender helpfully provided. “Why do you look so…serious?”
“Probably because I switched to water a while ago, but you stuck with tequila.”
“Ugh.” She drinks most of the cup and then leans into me, resting her forehead on my chest. “Can we go outside for a minute?”
“Uh-huh.” I steer her toward the door, nodding to the bouncer as we step out into air that’s much cooler and quieter.
There’s a bench about halfway down the block that I guide her toward.
“I’m a mess.” Cassia sighs as soon as she takes a seat.
“No, you’re not.” I sit beside her.
“I am.” She drops her head in her hands. “I’m acting like a little kid throwing a tantrum.”
“Little kids throwing tantrums don’t get drunk in college bars.”
She huffs a laugh. “I’m twenty-one, Holden. I’m an adult. I’m all grown up. Who cares if my parents are getting divorced?”
“Youcare, and you should.”
She sniffles, running a hand through her long hair. “I feel dumb for assuming they’d stay together forever.”
“You’re the smartest person I know. That’s not dumb; it’s sweet.”
Cassia wipes a cheek. “You know, if someone had asked me a month ago who would still be together now—us or my parents…” She shakes her head, staring at the ground for a minute longer before glancing over at me. “If I hadn’t grabbed that bottle, would we still be sitting here together?”
“Honestly?”
Cassia nods.
