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"Where’s that?"

"A bunch of the soccer players"

"Oh, at Bourbon House?"

"Yeah, are you going?"

"I’ll be at work"

"After you get off?"

He sested it, the idea filled me with panic A crush of bodies, all those faces I would have to study for signs of judgust I can’t have fun when I’ht clothes, plastering a just-so s, while the men in my head tell me I look like a whore and I should pick somebody already Take him upstairs and let hiood for

Bridget thinks I need to get out more, pick my life back up where I left it Otherwise, Nate wins

I see her point But I can’t ated soles of West’s boots, swinging a few feet froe of the table The sea to the party, I would want to

"I ood," he says "Get shit-faced, dance a little Maybe you’d even ing around here harassing , Caro, that grin says We both know you’re too fucked in the head to be hooking up with anybody

Before I’ve even caught my breath, he’s hopped down and moved toward the sink, where he fills a bucket with soapy water so he can wipe down his countertops

I look at my Latin book, which really is verbs, and I blink away the sting in noscere, cognovi, cognotus To understand

Maneo,Every now and then, West throws soirlfriend He s that means, You’re not important to me We’re not friends

He pulls inary fist into my face with the other

I knohy he does it He doesn’t want et close

I don’t knohy

But I see I understand

I remain

We’re a mess, West and me

He cleans the tables off, his itated When he switches to dishes, he’s slaht up with the noise he’s ure appears at the back door, West doesn’t notice

I do, though I look up and see Josh there He used to be my friend, before Now I see hi out with Sierra He’s standing with his wallet in his hand, looking aard

"Hey, Caroline," he says

"Hey"

West turns toward me, follows my eyes to the doorway He frowns deeply and stalks toward the door Josh lifts the wallet, and West kind of shoves it down and aside as heJosh to step back "Put your fucking s closed "Jesus Christ"

Then the kitchen is empty--justin the sink

When he co down deep in his pocket "You didn’t see that," he says

Which is du , I’irl in the corner, unable to put two and two together and get four

"Yes, I did"

He levels this look at me Don’t push it

I haven’t seen that look since the library It makes me du I can feel itfroo How ry about it

I’ry

He turns his back on me and starts to wash a bowl

"What kind of profit do you make, anyway?" I ask "On a sale like that, is it even worth it? Because I looked it up--it’s a felony to sell You’d do jail tiot arrested There’s athe bowl, but his shoulders are tight The tension in the roo hiht to try to protect me My dad would have kittens if he found out I was here, with West dealing out the back door, selling ith the muffins He would ask me if I’d lost my mind, and ould I say to him? It’s only weed? I don’t think West even smokes it?

Excuses My dad hates excuses

The truth is that I don’t make any excuses for it I turn myself into an accessory every time I come here and sit on the floor by West, and I don’t care I really don’t I used to Last year I was scandalized by the pot