The Easy Part of Impossible - Sarah Tomp Page 0,30

There’d be a follow-up debriefing. But those had happened after meets as well.

Mom motioned that she should wake Sean and then went back inside.

Ria stood over him. His blond hair covered one eye. His lips looked chapped, but full. He was cute again now that he wasn’t wasted.

“Good morning.” When he didn’t stir, she sat on the lounge chair beside him and traced the line of his jaw with one finger.

“Mmm?” He opened his eyes a crack. “I gotta get outta here.” He swung his legs around to the ground. “Before your parents . . .”

“They know you’re here.”

His eyes grew wide and panicked. “They know?”

“Obviously. It’s fine.”

“What happened? Did we . . . anything?”

“You passed out before we even got here. I thought you’d turned boneless.”

“That’s harsh.” He frowned. “Did Cotton Talley carry me in here?”

“Mm-hmm.” She wondered what else he remembered. What he’d heard from the trampoline.

“That’s so weird. I was so trashed.” But apparently that’s all he thought. Because he turned to his phone, getting all his updates and missed messages. “Maggie’s taking me to work.”

“Maggie?”

“Yeah. Benny wants me to help set up some pads or bars or something for their workout today. Maggie said he’s going to pay me extra to get there early.”

“You talked to Maggie?” A sudden heat filled her cheeks. She scooted away from him.

“Only texting. When I woke up in the middle of the night, I freaked. I wasn’t sure why I was here. You were sleeping.”

“So you asked Maggie?” Irritation prickled her.

“I think your phone was dead.”

Ria stared at him, trying to comprehend. He’d woken up wondering where he was—actually, no, he knew where he was and where she was, only fifty feet or so away—but he’d had other questions. So when he couldn’t reach her by phone, he texted Maggie. Who apparently was also texting Benny. Busy night for Maggie.

“Seriously?”

Now that his eyes were open, she saw the red veins and bloodshot look of them. His breath didn’t have the liquor-y smell of last night, but something related, and sour.

She went to get her phone from the trampoline. It had been almost out of its charge by the time she and Cotton stopped texting last night. He’d let her know he made it home and then she’d had some questions about caving that somehow led to them trading funny memories of Ms. Q’s room, and, well, now it wouldn’t turn on. So Sean was right about her phone. But apparently, he couldn’t make it across the yard to ask her what had happened. And now he and Maggie were going to go to the pool.

“I’m sorry about last night, Ria. Please don’t be pissed.” He sounded truly remorseful. Pitiful. He looked like he was honestly suffering, even if that was his own fault.

“I’m not mad.” It was the easiest way to end the conversation. And besides, since he’d been such a mess, Cotton had to help. And that meant she was going caving today.

After Sean left with Maggie, Ria headed inside. She could hear her parents in the kitchen, their voices blending in and out of their oldies songs playing in the background. The smell of breakfast made her mouth water as she paused outside the kitchen, getting ready to face them. They were going to have questions, but she wasn’t sure where the focus would be.

“Is Sean gone?” asked Dad.

“Yeah,” she said as she took the plate of eggs and fruit from him, settling in the sunniest spot of the kitchen table.

“That sounds like the start of a new hit song. Sean is gone. Gone, gone, gone. It works on multiple levels. As in gone drunk. Gone, gone. Gone so long.”

“All right, Dad. Don’t quit your day job.”

“Did you have fun last night?” Mom leaned back in her chair.

Ria thought a minute. There had been moments. Sean had been funny before he turned completely useless. The football team had won. Jumping on the trampoline with Cotton had been the best part. “It was okay.”

“Okay?” Mom said with a definite edge to her voice. “Your boyfriend was passed out on our lawn furniture. Don’t tell me he wasn’t drinking.”

“I won’t.”

“I hope you weren’t drinking too.”

“Of course not.”

“I know it can be tempting when everyone else is doing something,” said Dad. “Especially when you’re feeling unhappy. . . .”

“I was driving. I’m not completely stupid.”

Dad handed her the bottle of meds. It was as if she’d reminded him to, simply by saying the word. Even after all the promises that her