Page 45 of Outspoken

Avoiding the topic of hot guys, I text:I'll get back to it and update you later.

Paige:Have fun!

The table I'm standing at is in a crowded area with people laughing, walking, and/or stuffing tacos in their faces.

Also, drinking. Lots of people are drinking.

There’s activity all around me—people living their lives and enjoying the day—while I'm stuck at a motionless table. I suck on my lip, staring at the watery margarita a few inches in front of me. This one drink is enough to unlock Fun Amber and everything that's great about her.

I grab the cup, lifting it to my lips. I taste the salty rim, my heart pounding.God, I miss drinking so much.I miss that warm feeling that floats through my stomach, seeping into every limb until the entire world is numb and distant. That feeling is the best. In those moments, I can actually breathe. Add in a few pills—Xanax, Oxy—and it’s complete nirvana.

This past year, I've been choking and gasping for air. Even without pills, this one little drink can bring so much wonderful peace and comfort.

Plus, I doubt this marg is a full shot. These festivalsalwaysget stingy with the alcohol. What’s one small tablespoon of tequila? Nothing. It probably won’t give me more than a minute of relief. I deserve a minute, don’t I? After all the hard work I’ve put in and the stress I’ve endured, can’t I have one minute to fucking breathe and feel like myself again?

Just one.

I lick more salt from the rim, inhaling the bitter smell of the sour mix. Lowering the cup, I swirl the straw and watch the lingering traces of ice dissolve.

Just one sip.

In the second before the margarita can touch my lips so I can drink, I spin and hurl the cup toward a trash can. It hits a man instead, dousing his shoulder in liquid.

“Hey, what?” he yelps.

I step forward with my hands out. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

His small group of friends is doubled over with laughter. A glimmer of amusement crosses his face. “Why you throwing drinks at me? You an ex or something?”

A puff of air escapes my mouth as I fight tears. “Sorry, uh, there was a bee and I freaked out.”

He grins. “It’s fine. It woke me up at least.”

I nod and then quickly flee. My hands are shaking and tears streak my cheeks. I miss Fun Amber, but I can’t forget who appears next: Wasted, Sloppy Amber. Deep in Her Trauma Amber. The Amber who is ready to drive off a cliff and devastate Brody and Paige. Jackie. Frank. I know others care about me, and Fun Amber has a lot of baggage. She has the power to destroy everything she touches.

I should go.I’ll text Ashley later to—

“Hey.”

I turn at the familiar, warm-as-honey voice, and my body stills.

Miguel?

Chapter Twelve

Amber

MIGUEL STANDS A FEW FEET away, wearing his signature white sneakers, dark blue jeans, and button-up. Today’s shirt is, of course, covered in little tacos, the black fabric clinging to his muscular torso.

I want to smile. Or hug him. Or run far away so I can stop feeling relieved and happy he’s here.

He nods at me. “You like food fests too?”

After quickly cleaning my cheeks and sniffing, I respond as if nothing at all is going on. “Who doesn’t?”

He shrugs and glances over my shoulder, his eyes not focused on me the way they normally are.Strange.He didn’t even check me out or ask about the tears.

“Did you try Tres Hermanos yet?” he asks, looking completely distracted.

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