Home > Up In Flames(6)

Up In Flames(6)
Author: Nicole Williams

“Yeah. He bought it,” I said with a sigh.

I felt lousy for lying to Dad, but even lousier because I knew he’d never doubt me. I’d never given him a reason to. I’d never stepped one toe out of line my whole life, at least as far as Dad knew. He’d probably feel differently if he knew about the summer skinny dipping breaks or the time I’d drunk a half bottle of fruity red wine from Dani’s mom’s liquor cabinet.

“You are so lucky you’ve only got one member of the gestapo to patrol you. Dad and mom finally gave up—mostly—when I turned eighteen, but it was a real bitch trying to sneak out with one patrolling the front door and the other at the back.”

I kept my eyes focused on the road. “Yeah. I’m so lucky,” I said.

The Jeep got really quiet for a few seconds.

“Oh, God,” Dani said, grabbing my arm. “Elle, I’m sorry. I’ve got the biggest mouth and I don’t think before I speak and . . . shit, I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Dani,” I said, keeping my voice flat. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it.” To distract myself, I fumbled with the stereo, changing stations until I found a good, thumping song that would make it hard to carry on a conversation.

I knew Dani hadn’t meant to hurt me, but it had. My mom died when I was four, just a couple years after she and dad had turned their dream of being restaurant owners into a reality. I was young when mom died, so it was surprising how much I could remember of her. It wasn’t so much play-by-play scenes, but images. Like my young mind had snapped photographs of her and seared them into my mind.

She was a vivacious, spirited woman who had smile lines before she’d turned thirty and the same hazel colored eyes as me. She was always up for an adventure and believed nature provided the best terrain for the best kind of adventures. My dad had told me I’d spent more time in a hiking backpack than a stroller and learned to ski before I could ride a bike.

“Holy shit. I can see the bonfire from here,” Dani said, pointing at a glowing orb up ahead. “This is going to be one epic party. I can feel it in my bones.”

I lowered the volume on the radio. “I’m having second thoughts,” I said. “Do you think if I drop you off someone would give you a ride home? Someone who isn’t trashed? Because I really think I just need to go home and—”

“And what?” Dani interrupted. “Watch ‘I Love Lucy’ reruns while you stuff your face with marshmallows and try and fail to long for your safe, non-frisking boyfriend?”

Some days it was easy to remember why I loved Dani. This day wasn’t one. “Okay, I don’t even know where to start with that whole spiel, but—”

“So don’t even try because nothing you can say will convince me otherwise. You’re going to the party and that’s final,” she said, pointing me up a potholed road. “I cannot allow you to go to your grave without at least one night you don’t regret. Consider tonight to be hopefully the first of many nights of no regret.”

I parked my Jeep on the outskirts of dozens of cars. I could already hear the hooting and hollering. “And how many nights do you regret?” I shot her a look as I stepped out of the Jeep.

Dani came around front and weaved her arm through mine. “Not a single one,” she said as she steered me in the opposite direction of where I wanted to run right now.

“This is a bad idea,” I said, noticing all the familiar cars. The cars of people who would recognize me. Both Logan and my dad would know where I’d been tonight come tomorrow afternoon. “Every single person is going to recognize me and be more than happy to tell on the good girl going bad one night.”

“Two things. One, everyone in this town loves you. Even the raging partiers up there. No one’s going to say anything about you being here tonight. Besides, even if they didn’t like you, there’s a party code of conduct rule that you don’t blab to anyone about who was and wasn’t at a party,” she said, continuing to tug me ahead. “And two, everyone’s going to be so drunk no one will even remember you were here.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I asked, zipping up my jacket before sliding on my gloves. The days might have been unseasonably warm, but the nights still required bundling up.

“Okay, since you’re so worried about people recognizing you and actually caring you’re living one night like an eighteen year old should,”—Dani weaved in front of me and stopped me in my tracks—“I’ve got an easy solution to this. Take your hair out of that damn ponytail,” she said, tugging on my hair tie. Sheets of hair fell down my back as she wove her fingers through it, teasing and tousling until she was satisfied. “Put on a little makeup . . .” Pulling out a few tubes from her coat pocket, Dani went to work on my face. She was finished before I knew what hit me. “And voila, you’re my cousin from out-of-town who’s here to spend a couple weeks partying it up in central Washington with me.” Dani gave my hair a few last tweaks before grabbing a hold of my arm and steering me towards the party. “Oh, and your name’s Savannah and you’re from South Carolina.”

“Shouldn’t I have an accent if I’m from South Carolina?” This bad idea had just gone from marginally to entirely.

“Yep.” She patted my arm as we stepped into the clearing. “Good luck with that.”

   
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