A Story of Now
: Chapter 22

She replaces them in a booth in the back corner, already armed with coffee and a large pitcher of water.

“Hey!” Robbie says. He has pulled his hood over his head. Bright strands of hair curl around the edges.

“Hey.” She flops down next to him, groans, and leans her head on his shoulder.

He pats her cheek. “You came.”

“Just. It hurt to walk here.”

Mia pours a glass of water and slides it over to her. Then she smiles.

And it’s just a regular Mia smile. Not a weird or freaked out or uncomfortable we-made-out-last-night smile. Maybe she doesn’t even remember, Claire thinks. That would help. Or maybe she does, but it’s no big deal. Either way, she’s not being weird. Claire decides to take her cue from that.

“Hey, thanks.” She grabs for the water. The glass sleepover dude gave her didn’t even touch the sides of this hangover’s rampant thirst.

“How are you?” Mia asks, smiling as if she knows the answer already.

Claire grunts into her glass and keeps drinking.

Robbie laughs. “That good, huh? Me too. Last night was messy. Fun, but messy.”

“Agreed,” Claire mutters.

Mia leans forward. “And I must say you are rocking quite the panda eye this morning.”

Claire hurriedly swipes her thumbs under her eyes. They come up black. Oops. Maybe she should have looked in a mirror before she left that guy’s place. She uses the reflection on her phone screen to inspect the damage and clean up the worst of it with her fingers.

“Hang on a minute.” Robbie tips his head to the side, looks her up and down, and then narrows his eyes at her. “You’re still in your clothes from last night. And you didn’t stay with Nina. Could this be a walk of shame, missy?” He sniffs at her as if he’s going to be able to tell just from that.

She punches him in the shoulder. “Get away, you creep.” She slams back the rest of the glass of water. “And no. It’s a walk of shamelessly using a guy for his bed. To clarify.” She points at him. “Shamelessly using his bed without putting out. There is a line at which I will stop, shell out for a cab, and simply return to the bosom of the family McMansion.”

Robbie nods. “Good to know. Sadly there is no such line for me.”

Claire picks up a menu and briefly tries to make sense of the written word. “He was kind of hot, actually. Wish I remembered meeting him. Do you remember any of it?”

“Not a thing after the second party.”

“The second party?” Claire’s jaw drops. She possesses no recollection of any second party.

Mia laughs and shakes her head. “I am so glad I went home.”

Robbie nudges Claire. “Yeah, remember? Megan ditched her party and took us to the other one at that warehouse? Maybe he came with us, or maybe you found him there?” Robbie shrugs and turns back to his menu. “Anyway, I can’t keep a handle on my own night. I sure as hell can’t help you with yours.”

“Fair enough.” She tries to read the menu again but puts it down. Too hard.

“I wish I could remember this guy, though,” Robbie suddenly says.

Claire narrows her eyes at him. “Why?”

“Curiosity.” He shrugs. “Given what a bitch you can be on first meeting, for a guy to be into you, he either replaces you so hot he can’t resist. Or charming. There’s no mistaking you’re hot. But charming?” He shakes his head. “That’d have to be an acquired taste.”

“Wow,” Claire mutters. “Did you get me to come here just so you could drop truth bombs on the wreckage of my night?”

He laughs and flips the menu around between his fingers. “Anyway, I personally replace you very charming.”

“Just not hot.”

“Yeah, sorry.” He nudges her shoulder again. “That’s an acquired taste problem.”

They order their food. Claire wings it and asks the waiter to bring whatever breakfast option has the most bacon in it. Somewhere between waking and now, she has developed a hankering for grease and salt. Lots of it.

Robbie reads them their stars from the paper while they wait. “Ooh, mine says to relax after a busy week and to lock down some time with friends. Win! I shall do as it commands. Now, Mia.” He runs a finger along the page.

“It’s okay,” Mia mutters. “I can pretty much guess how today is going to turn out.”

“Too bad.” He leans over the page. “You are amazing, incredible, and beautiful, and you are so gifted and intelligent you don’t even need to study for your exams. Instead, you should spend all your time with your dearest friend Rob—”

“Hush and tell me the real one, you idiot.” Mia reaches over the table and slaps his wrist.

He laughs and takes a hold of her hand. “But it’s boring. It’s time to reflect how far you have come with attaining your goals, you should exercise self-discipline, yada yada yada. You already do that stuff.”

Mia pulls her hand back. “Told you.”

“Now, Claire.”

“What?” She resigns herself to the worst.

“You should have some financial gains this week.”

“Oh goodie.” Her savings are still looking a little sad.

“This week should also be about hard work and setting goals for yourself.”

She nods. “Yeah, like not getting so drunk.”

Mia snickers.

“And you should beware of taking advice from family members.”

She leans over and jabs at the paper. “That should be in there every week. I hope my mother reads that.” Not that she would. Her mother doesn’t believe in astrology, of course. Neither does Claire, really. How can all the people in the world be divided up into twelve types, ruled by twelve sets of advice? She’s terrible at math, but she knows that can’t possibly work statistically.

The waiter arrives with their food. Claire takes a tentative bite of her BLT, chews, and swallows. So far, so good. She’s almost ready to brave a coffee.

Mia spreads butter on her serving of toast.

“That’s really sad you know, Mia,” Claire tells her as she stares over at Mia’s barren plate.

“It’s for the best, believe me.”

Robbie heaps his fork with French toast and pours syrup straight on it. “You’re quiet today, Mee.”

Mia shrugs. “Feel sick.”

“At least you left before everything went pear-shaped. Why’d you leave so early anyway?”

“Drunk.”

“You’re such a lightweight,” he tells her fondly.

“Or just sane. At least I can kind of remember my night.”

Claire pauses with her BLT halfway to her mouth. Does that mean the kiss, too?

Robbie wipes his mouth with his napkin. “What are you guys doing for the rest of the day?”

Mia leans back against the booth and yawns. “Preferably IV fluids and bed rest. I should study. But somehow, I don’t think it’s going to happen until later. Much later.”

“Claire?” Robbie asks.

“Avoiding going home for as long as I can. Mum gets kind of chirpy on Sundays. She doesn’t seem to know it’s supposed to be a day of rest. And I already have to go to dinner at my cousin’s with her later.”

“Well can I suggest lying around and watching vapid teen films at my place? With junk food?”

“And Gatorade?” Claire asks.

“And Gatorade.” He nods. “Definitely.”

“The yellow one?”

“The yellow one.”

“Then I am in.”

Robbie turns. “Mee?”

She nods. “You had me at lying around.”