Page 21 of The Summer I First Saw You
“I think I’m going to need an extra semester, actually,” I tell her.
“Extra? Why?”
The dismay in her voice is like a sharp poke. Needing a few extra classes is nothing compared to the truth, so God only knows how she’d react tothat.“I wasn’t able to get into everything I needed to graduate,” I tell her. “It’s not a big deal. It’s pretty common to take more than four years these days.”
“You do realize all those extra classes you take cost money, right?” she chides. “Money you’ll have to pay back.”
My jaw grinds.Yes, Mom. I’m aware that I, alone, will be paying back those loans. I’m the one who’s here, remember? I’m the one who acquired them.“Yeah, I know. I’d better get going. I have a five o’clock lab.”
“Daisy…” she begins, and then she’s quiet. “I’m so proud of you. We’ll talk later, okay? I love you.”
“Love you too,” I say, ending the call and pulling my arm beneath the comforter.
I just want to go back to sleep and stay asleep so I never have to face the mess I’ve made of everything.
When my eyes open, it’s a relief to see the stark lines of Harrison’s sunlit guest room instead of my grim apartment in DC, to discover this churning in my stomach is half a bottle of Malibu as opposed to guilt and helplessness.
Though I guess some guilt remains. I’ve still made a mess of things. I’m still lying to everyone about it.
Steps echo down the hall and I look toward the door. Harrison stands there, still in his oxford but with the jacket off and the tie loosened. Based on the light, it’s going on noon. He should have left hours ago.
“You didn’t go into work?” I rasp, pushing up onto my elbows to get a better view of him.
He sits at the foot of the bed. “I stuck around in case EMS had to be let in. It’s an expensive door. I didn’t want them breaking it down.”
“Ha, ha.”
He twists the cap off the Gatorade he’s carrying and hands it to me. “Drink up, sunshine. You need to replenish some fluids.”
I take a long chug from the bottle. Nothing in the history of the world has ever tasted better than this neon-green ambrosia. “You can go to work. I’m fine.”
He hesitates. “You’re sure?”
I nod quickly. “Positive. The only thing that hurts right now is how badly my plan backfired.”
He laughs. “It wasn’t your best.”
“I’ve got a better one,” I reply, though I do not. I don’t actually have any plan at all. If he’s willing to watch me poison myself to prove he won’t be bullied and I can’t keep threatening to tell his friends, what else is left? What’s he more scared of than my death—which he clearly wasn’t that worried about—or Liam’s involvement?
He pats my leg and rises, though I wish he’d stay. “Hopefully, it’s less likely to end with a fatality than this one was.”
“Maybe I’ll remove a piece of clothing every time you drink.”
His laughter is low and dismissive. “Given the way you dress, your threat doesn’t have much of a shelf life.”
I guess he’s got a point.
He leaves, and I flop back onto the pillows with a groan.
All I’ve got left is tomorrow morning, and I really hope it works.
My alarm goes off just beforeseven the next day. The road in front of the house is already lined with trucks, and there’s no time to waste.
I don my bikini and knock on Harrison’s door. When he doesn’t answer, I try the handle.
Yes, this is something I’ve thought of doing many times before, but never for the reason I’m doing it now.
He’s sound asleep under a tangled mess of covers, deliciously scruffy and full-lipped and unconscious. I’m pretty sure I see the start of some morning wood, too. I picture sliding under the covers from the bottom of the bed and—
