Free Forever summer (Summer # 4) by C.J. Duggan Page B

everything seemed a bit foggy, or maybe that was the Carlton Draught talking. I held my chin on my hand, trying to blink my eyelids from drooping as I tried to listen to Megsy talk about her missing years, how she had missed Onslow and blah, blah, blah. I felt an elbow in my ribs causing me to snap to attention. My head swung around to see Adam casting me a dubious if not amused look.
    “You okay, soldier?” he asked, trying not to smile.
    My brows lowered. “It’s been a big day, you know; I’ve been up since five.”
    “Hence the nanna nap I interrupted this afternoon.”
    “That’s right, interrupted, so I’m even more fragile now.”
    Adam burst out with laughter, causing Megsy to still, mid gripping conversation about her arts course.
    “Sorry, Megsy, Adam’s just being a …”
    “Play nice,” he warned.
    “I always play nice.” I straightened, secretly loving the banter between us that always had a way of separating us from everyone else. Adam didn’t reply to me, he merely shook his head and sipped on his—wait, what the? Was he drinking water? Had I blacked out when that had happened?
    He must have read the wide-eyed look of horror across my face, as he examined his drink.
    “What? I said I’d give Megsy a lift home. Thought I better take it easy for a bit.”
    As much as you had to admire Adam’s responsible water intake in order to be a designated driver it had me instantly feeling ill. No more could I pretend that I was okay; maybe it was the alcohol that had worn me down, encouraging me to pretend to be nice.
    “So, Megsy, are you coming to Sean’s lake house tomorrow night for the surprise party?” Bel asked.
    My head snapped around, my vision glowering into Bel’s profile. It was an innocent enough question, but one I seriously didn’t want to know the answer to.
    “Ah, yeah, Adam invited me to tag along. It’ll be great to see Tess again.” Megsy beamed, skirting on the edge of excitement.
    What.
    The.
    Actual.
    Fuck.
    I wanted to be sick. No, really, I think I was going to vomit.
    No-no-no-no, not here, not now.
    I pushed myself to stand, swaying and scurrying past Ringer. He was boxing me into the table; I slapped at his shoulders.
    “Move!” was all I could manage, as I felt the chunks rising.
    “Want me to hold your hair back, Ellie?” Ringer joked, but I had no time to respond. I hit the ladies’ toilet doors at a run, barely making it to the empty cubicle and being violently ill. My life flashed before my eyes, black spots danced under my eyelids, and the tiny little room spun. It was still spinning even as I slid down the wall, convinced I had nothing left to give. Flushing the toilet, I hugged my knees to my chest.
    Classy, Ellie, real classy.
    If I hadn’t felt so awful I would have let the wave of humiliation wash over me, but I was far too sick to care—that would come tomorrow in the light of day.
    For now I just concentrated on breathing, in and out, in and out. The door to the bathroom opened, flooding the small room with music and chatter momentarily until the door swung closed.
    Oh great.
    Footsteps made their way around the privacy barrier and stilled in the opened doorway to my toilet cubicle.
    “You okay?” Bel stood there, her eyes narrowed in concern as if she was identifying a body at the morgue or something, which by all accounts wasn’t too far from the truth. Unlike any of the Onslow Boys who had held my hair back, dunked my head under a faucet and slung me over their shoulder, Bel crossed her arms across her chest, mindful not to make contact with the side of the door possibly out of fear of catching any germs.
    “I guess you drew the short straw on coming to check on me.” I wiped the light sheen of perspiration from my brow.
    “Well, Adam made it as far as the door, but then I kind of reminded him best not to linger in the ladies’ toilets.”
    Ha! Not like he hadn’t before, I thought.
    “Want a chewie?” Bel held out a packet of Juicy