Ecstasy

Beside me, a waiter puts down a plate of deviled eggs.

“There alcohol in this?” I ask the guy, pointing at the bowl.

He glances at me, straightens, and smiles. “Yes. Coconut liqueur, spiced rum, and—”

I don’t wait for him to finish before I grab a plastic cup from the stack of them and scoop it directly into the punch, filling my cup up to the brim. The waiter stares at me, dumbfounded, his eyes darting to the black scoop in the punch.

Yeah. I don’t have time for a damn scoop.

I tip the contents of the cup down my throat. It’s sickeningly sweet, but I can taste the alcohol in it, and I wipe my hand over my mouth when I finish, then go to dip it back in.

But a hand on my arm stops me.

“Hey, let’s get out of here,” Eli says softly in my ear.

I try to shrug his arm off, but his grip tightens. I can feel the calluses on his hand. I think about that car on his computer screen. The model car beside his bed. I think about his hands on me. The water he tried to give me.

“Alcohol is legal.”

“I know. But don’t you want to get drunk somewhere else?”

He lets my arm go. I spin around, clutching my cup in my hand.

“We’ve got all day,” he says quietly. “Alex texted me. He left for the coast. He’ll probably be there all week, until the party next weekend.”

All day.

All week.

My mouth goes dry. This is it. This week we can figure this out. He reaches his hand out to take my cup.

I let him, and he sets it on the buffet table. Then he holds his hand out to me. “Let’s go?”

I reach for his hand and nod. “Okay.” I hiccup, brushing my other hand over my lips to try and cover it. A blush creeps onto my cheeks and Eli laughs, his beautiful lips and the husky sound of his laughter distracting my thoughts for a second.

He steps closer to me, tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “Don’t be embarrassed.” He leans in close, kisses my mouth lightly then pulls back. “With me, you never need to be embarrassed.”

As we cross the room together, hand-in-hand, Jessica gives me a little wave and I see she’s got icing on her fork and is shoving it into her mouth with no shame.

I know she’s doing drugs, too, from shit my mom has told me, but it’s probably just pot, which might explain why she couldn’t get her fork away from the cake. Either way, I give her a wave back with my free hand, and once again, she looks at Eli and this time, she gives me a thumbs up.

I laugh, shaking my head, and the way Eli’s fingers squeeze mine lightly, I know he saw it too.

Mom and Cory are talking to one of her co-workers that I can’t remember the name of, and I’m about to walk out without a word. That, however, is apparently not acceptable, because Mom does a double take as she sees I’m headed out the door with Eli, and then, out of the corner of my eye, as we walk out, I see both Cory and her bustling over.

The door closes behind us, shutting the noise and them out. We’re standing in a little hallway at the back of the restaurant, secluded and alone.

“Should we wait for them?” Eli asks me, his warm hand still in mine.

But before I can decide what to do, the door bursts open and Mom and Cory come pouring out, skidding to a stop in front of us.

Cory’s sad brown eyes are wide, and he runs a hand over his thin hair. He’s wearing a golf shirt, pale pink like Mom’s shirt and the stupid cake, and I see his golden wedding band on his stubby finger.

Mom surpasses him in looks but considering he’s a nuclear engineer—and he’s got the small little glasses on his face to prove it—I don’t think she minds much. It’s his money she wants to join with hers, not their hands in holy matrimony.

“Where are you going?” she asks me, trying to keep her voice polite because Eli is by my side, still holding my hand. She catches sight of it and clears her throat, but before she can say another word, Eli interrupts.

“Sorry, Ms. Rushing,” he glances at Cory who swallows nervously, “but Zara isn’t feeling well.”

I want to twist around and glare at him because I don’t give a damn if my mom knows I’m bailing. In fact, I want her to know. That’s the whole fucking point. But if Eli’s lie will get us out of here faster, then fine.

I twist my face into a grimace and clutch my stomach with my free hand, looking at Cory because he’s the weakest link. “Stomach bug.” I flash Mom a tight smile.

My mom shoots daggers my way while Cory covers his mouth with his fist and coughs, then slides his hands back into his khaki pants, his little belly straining against the brown belt around his waist. He’s a little taller than Mom, which means he’s a lot shorter than me, and Eli, well Eli could fit three Corys into his frame.

That thought is morbid enough to make me laugh—thanks, punch—and I quickly cover my mouth with my hand.

I think Mom must assume I’m about to blow chunks because she takes a step back, her golden strappy sandals clicking on the floor. God forbid I vomit all over her at her wedding party.

The thought is amusing.

“Well, Zara,” Cory says, adjusting his glasses, “if you aren’t feeling well, then please do rest up and—”

“No!” my mom protests, shaking her head and cutting off Cory’s words. “This is our wedding—”

“When did you get married?” Eli asks politely, my hand still over my mouth to keep up the charade.

Mom’s words die on her tongue as she turns to look at Eli, and it seems like she’s trying very hard to keep her expression polite. When she meets Eli’s green eyes, it becomes a little easier for her. I can see the way she’s affected by him. I am, too, and I imagine most women are.

It’s probably why he gets so many girls without any effort at all.

I think about him sleeping with Riha

“Yesterday,” my mom answers him with a tight smile, smoothing down her shirt again. And again, Cory adjusts his glasses. Their nervous tells.

I squeeze Eli’s hand a little harder, and he returns the pressure, but doesn’t look at me.

“Congratulations,” he offers, and he sounds sincere. Wow, he’s such a good bullshitter. “I’m just going to get Zara home, and I am sorry we have to leave early, Ms. Rushing.” He nods to Cory, correctly assuming his last name when he adds, “Mr. Rushing.”

Cory looks mighty pleased with himself. “I’m sorry you aren’t feeling well, Zara,” he says, then looks to my mom and puts a hand on her shoulder.

My mother moves away from his touch and sighs, but she’s glaring at me. “Feel better, Zara.”

Cory turns to go but Mom hangs back and then she says, “I’m sorry, Zara.” She looks up at Eli. “Take care of her,” she nearly whispers.

Eli’s fingers tighten in mine. “Of course, Mrs. Rushing.”

All I can manage is an eye roll.