dare?”
“Dare!” she yelps as Demi pokes her in the ribs just below her Tennessee Vol–orange bikini.
“Good girl,” Demi coos. I have a flashback to the time in fourth grade when Demi staged a Miss America swimsuit competition in her backyard…in January. The thought makes me shiver, so I tuck myself farther into Lenny’s jacket. Immediately, Demi scoots closer to Lenny.
“How about you—” Russ starts to say.
But Demi steamrolls him. “I dare you to score us some drinks.”
My trouble meter starts beeping at a high frequency. I catch Huck giving me a look that says
Chill out, Liza,
so I keep my mouth shut and shift uncomfortably on the bricks surrounding the hot tub. All I need right now is to get caught drinking, or being around people drinking, since I don’t actually drink. I mean, not that I
don’t
drink. There’s always beer at the band parties, smuggled in Nalgene bottles or hidden in neoprene sleeves disguised as soda. But I think beer tastes like bread-flavored spit, so I usually just volunteer to be the designated driver, giving me an easy out. Regardless, if we came all this way on a half-crippled cruise ship only to get disqualified for a pilfered margarita, I think I’d throw myself overboard.
“No problem.” Missy lifts herself out of the hot tub as if there are paparazzi waiting to take her picture. Her long black curls cascade down her back. She gives a shimmy, I presume to shake off the water, but probably also to show off her petite body to everyone with eyes.
“Okay, while she’s gone, let’s do something fun,” Demi says. She leans into Lenny. Now her chest is practically in his lap, and I have to look away so I don’t barf into the bubbly water. Demi reaches into the mesh beach bag she’s brought along and pulls out a small notepad. She roots around some more until she produces a handful of pens. “What we’re going to do now is write the name of our number-one crush on a slip of paper. Then we’ll put them in a hat and draw them out one at a time, trying to guess whose is whose.”
She snatches Huck’s fedora off his head and places it on the deck behind her, then starts tearing out scraps of paper and passing them around. I expect Huck to snatch the hat right back, or at least object, but he just goes with it. Britt starts scribbling away. I see Hillary glance around the circle before writing. Huck takes to the paper right away. Lenny scribbles, his cheeks going red.
I look down at my piece of blank paper. The group is too small; everyone will notice if I don’t write
something.
But I also don’t want to actually reveal my number-one crush. My eyes go to Lenny, who is handing the hat to Russ. He deposits a slightly soggy folded slip of paper into it. My stomach does a little flip.
As the hat gets closer to me, I give up and settle on Marcus Wellington, the name of a character in one of my mother’s trashy romance novels she keeps hidden under her bed, so that I don’t have to incriminate myself. I scribble the name and drop it into the hat after Hillary.
Missy appears back on the deck holding three half-empty cups. One looks like a beer, and the other two are filled with slightly melted frozen drinks topped with soggy bits of fruit.
“Done and done!” she says, placing the drinks down on the deck.
Demi wrinkles her nose. “Missy, are those drinks
used
?”
“No one was using them
anymore,
” Missy says.
“That’s so gross!” Demi cries. She turns to Lenny. “Isn’t that so gross?”
Lenny half smiles and shrugs. Huck and I trade a glance that says we are totally not shocked that Missy would be dumb enough to steal half-empty drinks from strangers. Russ sort of sinks farther down into the water, maybe to get a better angle on that jet. I’m surprised he doesn’t take one of the glasses and pound it. I’ve heard the football team knows how to put it away.
“They were totally carding! What did you expect?” Missy huffs and drops back down
“Dare!” she yelps as Demi pokes her in the ribs just below her Tennessee Vol–orange bikini.
“Good girl,” Demi coos. I have a flashback to the time in fourth grade when Demi staged a Miss America swimsuit competition in her backyard…in January. The thought makes me shiver, so I tuck myself farther into Lenny’s jacket. Immediately, Demi scoots closer to Lenny.
“How about you—” Russ starts to say.
But Demi steamrolls him. “I dare you to score us some drinks.”
My trouble meter starts beeping at a high frequency. I catch Huck giving me a look that says
Chill out, Liza,
so I keep my mouth shut and shift uncomfortably on the bricks surrounding the hot tub. All I need right now is to get caught drinking, or being around people drinking, since I don’t actually drink. I mean, not that I
don’t
drink. There’s always beer at the band parties, smuggled in Nalgene bottles or hidden in neoprene sleeves disguised as soda. But I think beer tastes like bread-flavored spit, so I usually just volunteer to be the designated driver, giving me an easy out. Regardless, if we came all this way on a half-crippled cruise ship only to get disqualified for a pilfered margarita, I think I’d throw myself overboard.
“No problem.” Missy lifts herself out of the hot tub as if there are paparazzi waiting to take her picture. Her long black curls cascade down her back. She gives a shimmy, I presume to shake off the water, but probably also to show off her petite body to everyone with eyes.
“Okay, while she’s gone, let’s do something fun,” Demi says. She leans into Lenny. Now her chest is practically in his lap, and I have to look away so I don’t barf into the bubbly water. Demi reaches into the mesh beach bag she’s brought along and pulls out a small notepad. She roots around some more until she produces a handful of pens. “What we’re going to do now is write the name of our number-one crush on a slip of paper. Then we’ll put them in a hat and draw them out one at a time, trying to guess whose is whose.”
She snatches Huck’s fedora off his head and places it on the deck behind her, then starts tearing out scraps of paper and passing them around. I expect Huck to snatch the hat right back, or at least object, but he just goes with it. Britt starts scribbling away. I see Hillary glance around the circle before writing. Huck takes to the paper right away. Lenny scribbles, his cheeks going red.
I look down at my piece of blank paper. The group is too small; everyone will notice if I don’t write
something.
But I also don’t want to actually reveal my number-one crush. My eyes go to Lenny, who is handing the hat to Russ. He deposits a slightly soggy folded slip of paper into it. My stomach does a little flip.
As the hat gets closer to me, I give up and settle on Marcus Wellington, the name of a character in one of my mother’s trashy romance novels she keeps hidden under her bed, so that I don’t have to incriminate myself. I scribble the name and drop it into the hat after Hillary.
Missy appears back on the deck holding three half-empty cups. One looks like a beer, and the other two are filled with slightly melted frozen drinks topped with soggy bits of fruit.
“Done and done!” she says, placing the drinks down on the deck.
Demi wrinkles her nose. “Missy, are those drinks
used
?”
“No one was using them
anymore,
” Missy says.
“That’s so gross!” Demi cries. She turns to Lenny. “Isn’t that so gross?”
Lenny half smiles and shrugs. Huck and I trade a glance that says we are totally not shocked that Missy would be dumb enough to steal half-empty drinks from strangers. Russ sort of sinks farther down into the water, maybe to get a better angle on that jet. I’m surprised he doesn’t take one of the glasses and pound it. I’ve heard the football team knows how to put it away.
“They were totally carding! What did you expect?” Missy huffs and drops back down
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