Free Every Girl's Guide to Boys by Marla Miniano Page B

room is spinning, and I just need to find either Nico or Enzo so
one of them can bring me home. I should not be out in public like this. The
good news is that the alcohol has rendered me numb to the pain in my toe. The
bad news is that I wobble with every step I take, and I am obviously,
embarrassingly drunk. Wait, I can call them. Why didn’t I think of this sooner?
I fish my phone out of my purse and dial Nico’s number. It rings and rings but
he doesn’t pick up, probably unable to hear it over the booming music and the
steadily rising noise level of the guests’ chatter. I try Enzo, praying he had
enough common sense to maybe put his phone on vibrate mode. No answer, either.
I have to sit again, and I plop down on the nearest chair, earning dirty looks
from the guy and girl beside me who look like they were about to start making
out. Well,
excuse me for interrupting. Don’t mind me. Carry on, then.
    My eyelids feel
exceptionally heavy, and I think, Maybe if I just doze off for a while,
things will be better when I wake up . My head slumps forward, and for a moment
there, I don’t even know where I am. And then I feel a strong, warm grip on my
arm, and I allow myself to be pulled up. “Chrissy, open your eyes,” the voice
says. I obey. And find myself staring at Nathan’s very concerned, very worried
face.
    “Hi, Nathan,” I say,
giggling. “Why are you here? Wait, nope, don’t tell me.” I actually cover his
mouth with my hand. “You’re here with Queenie Cooper aren’t you? Awesome finale, by the way, she
is a very sexy lady, and you are a very lucky bay-behhh!” He pries my fingers
off and tells me, “Let’s get out of here,” and I giggle again and say,
“Alrighty-o, Nathan, you’re the boss!” I even stand up straight to salute him.
True story.
    Out in the parking lot,
I tell him, “Hey, guess what’s up? My left toe is bleeding, and I cannot feel a
thing! Isn’t that just wicked ?” I laugh so hard I have to lean against him for balance,
and he says, “Take off your shoe, Chris.”
    “WHAT?! No way!” I
yell. He looks at me exasperatedly, crouches down, puts my hands on his
shoulders, and removes my left shoe for me. My big toe is red and raw and still
bleeding, the Band-Aid is peeling off, and poor Nathan looks like he’s about to
throw up. Before I realize what’s happening, I am hanging on to his neck and he
is carrying me to his car. In my wasted state, it occurs to me that this is The
Most Romantic Thing Anyone Has Ever Done for Me, and I wonder if this can be
categorized as cheating. I mean, technically, I’m single and can do whatever I
please. And technically, Nathan is so not the villain here—is it still
considered cheating if you leave behind the neglectful, MIA guy to drive off
into the midnight with the good guy who rescues you? He gently props me up on
the front seat, opens the glove compartment, and hands me a bottle of water.
“Drink up,” he orders. The last thing I recall is me wanting so badly to kiss
him. And then I pass out.
     
    I wake up to an insistent tapping
on my shoulder and a sharp, throbbing pain in my left foot. The sun shines
brightly through my window, and I want to reach out and grab it by its collar
and turn it off. I also want to scratch my eyeballs out and cut my head open to
extract the weight concentrated right in the middle of it. I hear someone clear
his throat. A male someone.
    I sit up so fast the
weight in my head feels like it has doubled. The sun shines directly into my
eyes, and I squint. Justin is poking my shoulder repeatedly, like I am a
defective toy that refuses to work. “ Finally someone wakes up,” he
grumbles. “ Kuya Nico’s here.” He stomps out, leaving the door open, and Nico sits
beside me.
    What is going on here?
Why is Nico in my room, and why do I have a feeling something is very, very
wrong? And then it hits me. Last night. The party. The drinking. The bloody
toe. The drive home. With Nathan.
    Ohmigod,