Page 81 of Detour

The chilled water slaps the part of my back exposed from the crop top making goose bumps sprout. My previously light and flowy skirt turns into a heavy, restricting weight as the water penetrates the material, pulling me down faster than the giant himself. I kick out of his arms, trying to get my legs under me before I drown in front of a party full of my closest strangers. My feet finally make contact with the bottom, and pushing with all my might, I’m able to propel upward before I run out of air. Just as I reach the surface, Beckett’s hand latches onto my arm, pulling me over to the side.

“Damn, Angie, you sank like a fucking brick.”

“I’m wearing a skirt, asshole!”

“A white skirt.” I hear above our heads.

I was so busy trying not to die, the fact that my skirt is indeed white, therefore now see through, escaped my notice. One emergency at a time and all that, but I guess everyone’s priorities are different.

“What am I supposed to do now? This thing weighs a ton.” I try to drag some of the heavy material out of the water to no avail.

“Lose it.”

“And do what? Swim around in my fucking panties?”

“Yes?”

“No,” Coty grits, making Beckett chuckle.

“Can you grab me a towel then? I’ll go back upstairs to change.” Coty yanks one from a nearby chair that I’m hoping didn’t belong to anyone. “You had to choose the one time I wear something nice?” I scowl at Beckett.

“Shit, sorry.”

With my free hand, I splash his lowered face. “It’s okay. Just help me get out of here without everybody seeing my ass.”

“Can I see your ass?”

“No!” Coty and I say together.

They help me maneuver out of my skirt and into the towel with minimal flashing. I promise to return, then head up, wringing out my hair along the way.

Beckett told me, somewhat ominously, to wear my swimsuit, so I change into my bikini before grabbing my phone so I can listen to the three new voice mails shown.

“Angela, I’m sorry I missed today. Mom called and told me what she did. I just wanted you to know I disagreed with her and stood up for you. Whatever your differences are I just wish you two could leave me out of it. I feel like crap about missing today and just thought I’d let you know I’m thinking about you. I hope you had a good day anyway. I love you.”

I stare at the wall, thinking over my sister’s words. They don’t change what happened. They definitely don’t put relatives, my real relatives, in that coliseum when it counted most. But can I really be upset about the way it all played out in the end?

I delete the message.

“Hey, grad! My dad talked to Joanna, our contact we told you about, and she found an opening for you. Call me tomorrow and I’ll tell you the details. Don’t call me tonight! This is your graduation night and I hope you’re living it up. I just wanted to let you know so you don’t have to worry. We’ll talk later. Love you. Bye.”

I’m squealing before Drew even finishes, then sober to listen to the last voice mail; it’s from a number I don’t recognize.

“Angela, hi.” Joe. “Listen, I got you a present and was hoping to give it to you after your graduation. I can get away tonight if you want to meet up.” What? “I’ll try again later.”

There’s so much wrong with that voice mail I don’t even know where to begin.

I click on the number to respond with a quick text, letting him know a gift isn’t necessary—or wanted—and that I’ll see him at work tomorrow. In other words, thanks but no thanks. Gross.

My phone now charging, I straighten my swimsuit top just as someone knocks on the door—four quick knocks to be exact. Coty. Smiling, I open the door to find him shirtless, and holding my wrinkled skirt. At least I think it’s my skirt. I lost my train of thought at Coty’s bare chest.

Have mercy. On what, I don’t know. My sanity? My soul? I’m going with my groin since that’s what’s currently fighting for the most attention. To hell with the rest.

My eyes roam every inch of skin, greedily taking more as they go. His tattoos are on full display now, so I take my time studying them. I don’t realize I’m touching him until Coty clears his throat.

I pull my hand back abruptly, saying, “Sorry.”

He cracks a smile. “I wasn’t complaining, babe. I thought I’d bring this up for you.” Between his hands is a white heap of leaking skirt and it’s making a puddle on my bare doorstep. My lip twitches. “I tried to squeeze out as much water as possible on my way up here. Coincidentally, Gary might be stepping in a river the next time he leaves.” We glance down the hall to the quiet door. I’ve never seen him but the guys have told me about his, uh, habits. “And you were right, this thing’s heavy as shit. You’re lucky you didn’t drown.”