slinging his arm around Cecilia, who’s just come into the room and is scowling in the direction of the couch. It strikes me that even though I’ve seen him naked, I don’t really know Chase at all.
I make my way over to Hannah, and I can tell she’s tipsy. Her cheeks are flushed pink, her bangs messy.
“Keely!” she shouts when she sees me, like it’s been three years instead of three hours. “Happy last day of finals!” She’s with Molly Moye, the two of them swaying back and forth to the beat of some old Ariana Grande song.
“What have you been drinking?” I like the feel of her next to me, warm and secure.
“All of it,” she answers, bopping me on the nose.
“Are you excited for tomorrow?” Molly asks me. She holds her drink out in the direction of mine and I tap my cup against hers and take another long, tangy sip. I start to nod, about to say something about prom and how it’s a moment and all of the other phrases I’ve been forcing through my head for the last week or so, but I realize all of a sudden that no—I’m actually not that excited for tomorrow. When I think of tomorrow night, I don’t think of prom itself, of dancing with my friends, celebrating the end of school, the final few moments we’ll still be together. All I can think about is the hotel room that Dean and I got for afterward, the moment when we’ll both be undressed, right on the edge. The moment that I promised him.
Losing your virginity is supposed to be exciting, right? Tomorrow night is making my stomach swoop, but not like it’s full of butterflies. More like it’s full of gas. But I don’t want to think too much about it right now, so I take another long sip of my margarita and I lie to Molly.
“I can’t wait.”
She lights up like a Christmas tree and loops her arm through Hannah’s so we’re all linked together, like a drunken daisy chain.
“Me too,” she says.
“Me three,” Hannah agrees.
“I’m going to miss you guys next year,” Molly says, and maybe it’s just the alcohol that’s got us feeling all sentimental, because I barely know Molly Moye. Well, that’s not true. I know all of the facts about Molly: she’s dating Edwin Chang, she’s played field hockey since fifth grade, she’s going to Dartmouth in the fall. But knowing these details about Molly’s life doesn’t mean I know what’s going on inside her. And yet, when she says she’s going to miss me, I understand what she means. Because I’m going to miss Molly too. She’s part of my ecosystem. I’m used to her life orbiting mine, like she’s always just on the edge of my vision. And I know after we graduate—after summer is over, when I go off to California, and Hannah leaves for New York, and Molly for New Hampshire, I’ll probably never see Molly Moye again.
I wander around the house feeling slightly lost in the crowd of people, the sweaty mass of bodies. I’m already on my second margarita and the tequila is blurring them together, morphing them into strangers.
In the kitchen I find Danielle and Ava. I guess Danielle must have peeled herself off Andrew’s lap. Where has he gone?
There’s a cookie sheet on the counter and they’ve sprinkled tortilla chips and cheese on it, their fingers greasy. Because these are Danielle nachos, there are other ingredients too: black olives, jalape?os, sliced onions, and tomatoes. I can picture her cutting vegetables up before the party started, putting them in little bowls like my mom does.
“Collins!” Ava shouts when she sees me. “Come eat the last supper with us! We’re making a feast.” Ava operating an oven is probably a bad idea, but I’m happy she’s moved from kaleories to nachos. Hopefully Danielle will keep her from burning the house down.
“Where’s Andrew?” I ask, grabbing a chip off the tray and biting into it.
“Wait!” Ava shrieks. “They’re not ready yet!”
“Let’s make guacamole.” Danielle grabs some avocados from the basket of fruit on the counter and then picks up a big knife.
“Don’t!”