Still too introspective for my own good, I walk into our building and drop the keys off at Spence’s place. And when I close the door to my apartment and look around, that nagging feeling persists. For someone who’s always relished the quiet at night and a little space at the end of the day, why do I suddenly feel like something is missing?
Is it too soon to apologize for being a drunkard?
I laugh when the text from Cosette comes through.
You don’t need to apologize for anything. What are you still doing up? I thought you’d be long passed out with Louie and Raffi.
I watch as the three little dots move across my screen.
I puked a few more times. Louie is not happy with me. He’s turned his nose up at me multiple times. He’s as judgy as my mother. <rolling eyes emoji>
She’s so fucking cute it’s hard not to laugh. I scrub a hand down my face.
Proceed with caution. This girl is off-limits.
He has no room to judge. The dude humps a giraffe out in the open. The bastard has no shame.
I know she’s laughing and we’re not even together. But Cosette has a wicked sense of humor. It’s one of my favorite things about her.
That’s very true. Thanks for reminding me. Thanks for taking care of me tonight. I owe you one.
My mind goes to a million different places of favors I’d like to get from Cosette, before I pull my thoughts out of the gutter.
You’re older than her, dickhead.
She needs a friend, not a hookup.
She’s not that girl.
You owe me nothing. Get some sleep. Drink some water and hydrate. Prepare for the hangover from hell tomorrow. I’ll see you at the hotel.
I drop down to sit on my bed and wait for her response.
Thanks, Caden. See you tomorrow.
I stay up watching late-night TV until I can’t see straight and fall asleep on the couch. My dreams are tormented with Cosette and her sweet smile, that expression that looks like she has so many fun secrets I’d like to hear all about, and when I wake up the next morning, I feel like I’ve been put through the wringer. I take my shower and lecture myself in the mirror when I get out.
“Lighten up, dude.” I point at myself, leaning closer to the mirror. “Life is supposed to be fun. You’ll be an old man overnight if you start contemplating the meaning of life.”
Feeling better already, I try to put it all out of my mind, determined to have a good day.
I wait for the elevator and hear a ruckus as the doors open. Gus charges out, and Emma and Spence are on his heels.
Gus is dry heaving and gagging so dramatically it’s impossible not to laugh.
“Dammit, Kingsley. You got vomit on my new shoes. You know I’m sensitive to smells.” He bends over and makes all sorts of gurgling sounds.
“Keys,” Spence shouts to me, and I toss him my apartment keys as he runs ahead of Emma toward my apartment.
“Don’t be a baby. You’ve puked on me before,” Emma hisses and she looks like the walking dead. Her hair is a tangled mess, and she stumbles toward Spence who has my door opened for her.
My God. How much did these girls drink last night?
“That’s because you aren’t sensitive to these types of things,” Gus shouts back, leaning against the wall like he’s just been shot.
“Dude, are you hungover too?” I ask after Emma beelines it into my apartment.
“No. I had a relaxing night at home entertaining a lovely lady friend.” He holds his hand to his forehead. “But Kingsley gets on the elevator and hurls right onto my new Nikes. None of it landed on her or Spence or even the elevator. She aimed for me. I can’t deal with this madness.” Gus looks up at me and shakes his head and I can’t help but laugh.
“Let’s go clean up your shoes, you little dickprincess.”
“You know I can’t handle vomit. Ever since Pen puked on me a few years ago. It’s not my thing.” He has a hand over his mouth and he’s stumbling behind me like he’s been in an accident.
Yeah, Pen projectile vomiting all over Gus at his own college graduation goes down as one of my favorite sibling memories. He’d pressured her to go shot for shot with him on the tequila, and after she put the last one down, she high-fived him and proceeded to shoot liquid from her mouth straight into his face, exorcist style. Spence, Jesse, and I couldn’t contain our laughter that night. And then we consoled Pen, and Gus threw a massive temper tantrum as he dry heaved and whined all the way home.
Classic Taylor shenanigans.
“I don’t think puke is really anyone’s thing,” I said, pushing the door open and reaching for a towel. “And no offense, but that looks like spit-up. There’s hardly anything there. You’re being a huge ass baby.”
“It’s not the amount of vomit that matters, it’s the idea of it. Of regurgitated shit coming out the wrong end. I’m a visual learner, and I am not okay with this. You hear that, Kingsley,” he shouts, as he takes his shoe off and wipes off the quarter-sized white goo from his shoe.
“Well, I feel like a new woman. Sorry you had to take the brunt of it. Love you, Gussy boy.” Emma is standing in front of us now looking like she’s raring to go.
“Why do you look better than I do?” Gus whines.
“Because I clearly needed to get that tequila out of my stomach. I hurled a few times, and now I’m good to go. Let’s go get greasy breakfast sandwiches on our way to work,” Emma says, grabbing a bottle of water from my fridge and kissing me on the cheek.
“Why does he get the kiss when I’m the one you desecrated?” Gus asks as he slips his tennis shoe back on his foot. “And yes to the breakfast sandwich. I need a pick-me-up after all this drama. This is not how I like to start my day.”
“Listen, dickweasel, shit happens. Stop whining and man up,” Spence says, as he takes Emma’s hand and leads us out the door.
“You coming with us for breakfast?” Emma asks me when we step on the elevator.
Gus pinches his nose between his thumb and his pointer finger because he claims he can smell the vomit.
“This isn’t even the same elevator we were on before, you dufus,” Emma says and then she turns back to me to wait for my answer.
“Yep. I have a hunch you aren’t the only one who needs a greasy meal.” I think of Cosette.
“You’re right about that, brother. All of this excitement has worked up my appetite,” Gus says as we step outside, and I roll my eyes because I wasn’t thinking of him.
“I thought you were nauseous from the puke.” Emma raises a brow at him.
“Stop saying that word. It’s bringing it all back to me,” Gus whines and rubs his stomach.
We all burst out in laughter as we walk down the street in typical Taylor fashion. And I suddenly feel an urgency to get to the hotel. I’m anxious to see how Cosette’s doing.
Because that’s what fake boyfriends do, right?
Chapter Eight
Cosette
I wake up to rapid knocking on my door and then my mom steps inside.
“Louie!” she cries. “What is he doing in here? I looked all over for him and thought he must have gone to get Raffi and fell asleep.”