The Truth About Happily Ever After

  “Pretty much.”

  He takes a sip from his mug. “Excellent.” Then, catching the ZTA logo on Caroline’s bag, he bursts into song. One of our songs, to be specific. “This is my personal point of view. That the Zeta blue looks good on you.”

  “OMG, I’m literally dying!” Blake exclaims. She slaps his forearm lightly. “How do you know that?”

  “I’m an honorary Zeta at UD,” he grins. “Nah, just kidding. I’m technically considered part of the cheerleading squad, and a lot of the girls on the squad always pledge Zeta. You pick up things.”

  “You’re a cheerleader?” Lauryn “Y” asks. “That’s hot.”

  Miller laughs it off, good natured as always. “Male cheerleaders. Pretty much the epitome of hot. Yes.”

  “Are you a prince at the park, Miller?” Caroline asks.

  “Sadly, no. I spend most of my days dressed up as an oversize kangaroo.”

  “You play Kangzagoo?” Blake asks. “He was one of my favorites when I was little.”

  Miller nods.

  “You should be a prince,” Lauren “E” decides out loud. She looks him over. “You totally have this … cute lumberjack thing going on.”

  “Oh my god, Lauren!” I exclaim. “You’re not even drinking yet.”

  Miller merely rubs on his scruff. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard that, you know. I can’t say I think the term is spot on, but … I’ll take it.”

  “I’m missing the lumberjack part,” I say. “He’s wearing a Coldplay T-shirt.”

  “It’s the scruff,” Lauren says. “That rugged yet boyish face he’s got.”

  “Are you a Coldplay fan?” Blake asks, deftly changing the subject. She’s slated for a future taking over her family’s multimillion-dollar PR firm. The one that handled the recent presidential scandal.

  “Yeah, huge fan,” he says.

  “Me too.” She smiles. She doesn’t tell him the part where she flew all of us to London, for twenty-four hours, to attend a concert and meet Chris Martin.

  “And how do you know Alyssa? If you’re a kangaroo and not a prince?”

  Miller still has his arm around my shoulders, and he looks over at me fondly. “You want to tell them the story, or should I?”

  “Let me tell it,” I insist. “You’re gonna make it sound so much worse than it was.”

  “’Cause you were a total brat!”

  “I have a hard time believing that,” Lauren “E” says. She points at me. “Usually? Alyssa’s shitting sunshine.”

  This cracks him up. “I like that.”

  “Anyway,” I say. “Enchanted Enterprises makes us do these heinous stints in fur costumes as part of the training process. Everyone. No one’s exempt. No matter what. And it’s torture. My very first day, it was over one hundred degrees and—”

  Miller can’t help himself and jumps in. “She lasted twelve minutes. Twelve! I work eight-hour shifts in costume, and she started crying after twelve minutes. I heard her boo-hooing beneath the headpiece. She was that loud.”

  “And he was so supportive and sympathetic,” I continue drily, and then attempt to imitate Miller’s voice. “Suck it up, buttercup.”

  “You were, by far, the most spoiled princess I’d ever trained. And that’s saying something.” Miller grins. “So when I called her out on it, put her in her place a bit, that’s when she had her real breakdown. It was probably the most pathetic thing I ever saw; I couldn’t help but start laughing. And that’s when she socked me with her aardvark glove.”

  “Shut up,” Caro says.

  “True story,” Miller nods. “I’d never been assaulted by a fellow fur character. Angry parent, dipshit teenager, sure. But not another cast member.” He glances over at me and smiles. “As soon as she hit me, we both started cracking up at the ridiculousness of it. And I got the feeling, Alyssa here was probably going to turn out okay.” He pinches my cheek. “She’s just a delicate flower.”

  Then Miller glances toward the bar, and his arm slides off my shoulder. “Whoa,” he says. “Yael is throwing some pretty hefty death stares over there; I better get back.” He grins at me. “I don’t want to have to break up any more fights on your behalf.” Then, “It was fun meeting you ladies.” He walks toward the bar, pointing back to our group. “I’m going to send a pitcher over. Go Zeta!”

  “Aww,” Caroline says, watching him go. “Bless his heart. He is, like, a total sweetheart.”

  I said it before, and I’ll say it again. It’s pretty much impossible not to like Miller.

  The afternoon turns into early evening. The beers turn into margaritas, and the margaritas turn into shots as we wait our turn on the beer pong tables. There’s already a long list of people waiting to play.

  More and more cast members show up after work, the crowd gets bigger, the patio is more crowded … and it all goes downhill from there.

  I see Kellen, Enchanted villain, notorious park playboy, walk in the door. Then I see Caro making out with him in less than ten minutes flat.

  Rose stops by with a new cast member for a quick drink, and Blake drunkenly tells her she should enroll at Coral State, because she’s “totally hot enough to be a Zeta.”

  And Lauryn “Y” orders nachos.

  Lauren “E” can’t wait to call her out. “She’s eating nachos? Lauryn ‘Y’ is waaasted!”

  I crack up, because my sisters are a mess, and they’re a hilarious mess. Lauren “E’’ looks ridiculous, crown now clinging to her head by a hope and a prayer, and Blake has fashioned hers into some kind of choker necklace. Which is pretty much how most nights I spend as part of Zeta turn out.

  Finally it’s our turn for pong, but Lauren “E” can’t retrieve her partner, who’s still locking lips with Kellen against a cactus, and Lauryn “Y” won’t step away from the nachos.

  “Miller!” Lauren “E” screams across the patio, waving wildly. “Miller! We neeed you! I need a partner so we can play!”

  I glance up in surprise. I didn’t realize he was still here. I smile when he stands, actually walks over to appease her.

  But when Miller stands, Yael stands, too.

  “Uh-oh,” I whisper under my breath. I have a feeling she’s not coming over for some friendly competition. And we already have enough players, anyway.

  It turns out she just wants to give Miller a hard time. She tugs on the sleeve of his shirt, giving him a pointed look. “We said we were heading out now,” she reminds him. “Both of us.”

  He points to the table. “Just one game.”

  She looks at him. She looks at me. She looks down at his nearly empty mug. Then she gives him another look, one I can’t really make sense of.

  “I’m fine,” he tells her. “It’s fine. I mean, if you really won’t stick around, I don’t mind walking home by myself, but … you should stay.”

  “Yeah, no. Think I will go.” She turns abruptly and huffs out of the bar without a good-bye.

  “I like her,” I say flatly. “Such a charmer.”

  Miller chuckles. “It’s all good. She’ll get over it.” He lines himself up across the table from me, next to Lauren “E.”

  “I will take particular pleasure in sinking my balls into your cup,” he calls.

  “That’s what she said!” Lauren “E” and Lauryn “Y” scream in unison.

  “Jinx!” Blake hollers.

  Yeah, Blake really needs to start sobering up if she’s driving them home tonight.

  “‘That’s what she said’ doesn’t even make sense.” I giggle. “You can’t just say it anytime someone uses the word balls!”

  “Are we playing or what?” Miller calls, arm already curved and poised above the board. Seasoned drinking game pros, the girls quickly quit their giggling and get down to business.

  Lauren and Miller dominate the game, and at one point she puts her arm around him to “strategize,” pulling his head close to hers to whisper to him.

  It crosses my mind that she might actually be flirting with
Miller.

  It’s not a complete surprise. I mean, I assume Miller gets plenty of girls—he’s got that natural charisma and attracts people like a magnet. And he is kinda cute, in that scruffy way of his, in his T-shirt and khaki shorts. He has nice calves, probably from all the hopping he does as Kangzagoo.

  But I just can’t picture Miller with a girl like Lauren “E.” With Miller, I assume, it’s girls more like Yael that he’s getting.

  From the way Yael’s acting, I sort of suspect he’s already “got” her. Why else would she be so bothered by his behavior around other girls?

  But then Lauren “E” rubs the top of his head, the way you would a golden retriever puppy. “You are the cutest,” I hear her say. “I want to take you home as, like, our house pet.”

  To me, it sounds sort of demeaning. Even though she means well.

  But Miller is unfazed. “It’s cool. Just know I charge for that sort of thing.”

  They win, and Miller heads out shortly after the game wraps, despite protests from Lauren “E” that they’ve “got next.”

  He walks around to my side of the table, puts his hand out, and waits for me to slap his palm. “It was a blast seeing you with your sisters.”

  “Yeah, they’re good girls.”

  He raises an eyebrow in the direction of Caro and Kellen. “I’m sure.” Then he looks back at me, assessing me through narrowed eyes. “I think I prefer you when you’re not being a stereotype of yourself, but it’s all good.”

  “What does that mean?”

  I think I might be offended. I’m just not sure.

  “You’re like them, but you’re not,” he says, still staring at my face. “It’s like … you fit with them … but you don’t.”

  I burst out laughing. “That’s very profound. You’re drunk, by the way.”

  “Yes, I am,” he agrees. “I’ll figure it out eventually, though. And I should get home. Catch ya later, Lys.”

  I watch him leave, pondering his words. But then Blake inadvertently shoves Caro into the table, knocking over several cups of beer, prompting loud squealing all around. I focus my attention on the daunting task of rounding up four drunken senoritas and dragging their butts out of the Barrio.

  chapter 7

  The five of us got to El Barrio around four o’clock. It’s almost nine by the time we leave, and then make a stop at the twenty-four-hour doughnut and bagel shop so the girls can get some food in their stomachs. By the time I give them hugs at Blake’s car, ensure Blake’s sobriety, and point them toward the freeway, it’s 10:10 p.m.

  And I am so ready to crash.

  I’ve been up and on the go for fourteen hours and counting. My sisters require a lot of energy when they’re in a pack like that. Plus, I’m still more than a little bit drunk. It feels like it takes twenty minutes to climb the stairs, with my legs feeling like lead. I mean, I’m used to sitting, not running, around the park. All I need to do is text Jake good night and wash my face. I daydream about face planting into my pillow.

  I open my door. I stand and stare. Then I smile. “What are you doing here?”

  I feel my heart melting like cherry vanilla over the edge of a sugar cone on a hot summer day. Jake is in my apartment. As a surprise.

  “Waiting for you.” He smiles back at me. “I figured it was actually okay to put the spare key to use?”

  “Of course!”

  I fight the urge to leap at him and wrap my legs around his waist.

  “I came over as soon as I could,” he says. “I felt bad about not hanging out, and I thought maybe I could at least say good-bye to your friends before they left.”

  Between his presence and this sentiment, any lingering irritation about earlier evaporates. I give him a hug. “I’ll tell them that. They’ll be sorry they missed you. But it’s a long trip to make so late, and they wanted to get on the road.”

  When I step back, I notice Jake fiddling with a goldenrod padded envelope, nervously flipping it over in his hands. “What’s that?”

  He stares at the package for a moment before answering. “My mom forwarded it to my apartment. It came to their house.” Jake looks up and meets my eye, his eyes hesitant. “It’s an introduction to the Child Life Specialist internship. Some background on the program, some personal stories…”

  I can’t help it. I recoil at once.

  “You have to understand why I’m not totally excited,” I whisper. I half collapse against the counter. “At one point, it seemed like the internship in South Carolina was the definite front-runner. And it’s just”—I run my hand through my hair, pushing it out of my face—“I still have two years of school down here, so all we have is the distance thing in the foreseeable future. I was really excited about the possibility of having you close by for a while.” I manage a small smile so there’s not too much bite in my words.

  “Yeah, but Lys,” he replies, “the program at CHOP is in the same city as my school. It just makes better sense, establishing connections that could go beyond the internship.”

  Of course it makes sense. Jake always makes sense.

  And there never seems to be any sense in giving priority to this relationship.

  Jake sighs, then walks around the counter to come to me. “Listen,” he says, taking my forearms in both hands. “We said we were gonna work on things, right? That means working on things, Alyssa.”

  I have to turn my face away from his, because I hate these conversations.

  But Jake presses on. “Last summer was fun, right? But if we want our relationship to actually grow, I think it would be … good to figure out what our common interests are. Or better understand each other’s interest, at the very least.”

  He waits for me to turn back toward him, and his eyes are pleading behind his glasses. “Come on, Lys. I really believe if you watch this, if you see what it’s about, it won’t just be this big, bad thing keeping me half a coast away. You have the biggest heart of anyone I know, and when you see these kids, I know you’ll get it.”

  I stare into his eyes. It feels like if I just keep staring, if I keep being able to see him, this will be okay. He’s so genuine, he’s trying so hard, and he really wants me to be a part of this. Even if ultimately, I can’t.

  So I smile again. “Okay. Sure. I’ll watch. With an open mind.”

  He pulls me all the way toward him and kisses me quickly. “Thank you.”

  So we head over to the couch. In some ways, it’s so reminiscent of last year. He’s in my favorite Jake postwork getup—jeans and a soft white T-shirt—and he covers me with a blanket when I sit down next to him. He turns off the lights, which makes my eyelids feel about forty times heavier. I physically fight to keep them from falling shut in the dimly lit apartment. I cuddle against him, certain his proximity, the muffled sound of his heartbeat, will keep me alert.

  Jake turns on the television, and the image of the children’s hospital, illuminated in a rainbow spectrum to make it look less scary, I suppose, fills the screen. “The Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia,” a cheery voice begins. “Hope lives here.”

  I suck in a breath, reminding myself not to be selfish. This internship is about something much bigger than me.

  Over the next several minutes, while we’re provided an on-screen tour of the facility, we learn about the hospital’s history and current areas of specialty. A curly-haired woman in street clothes appears after that to introduce the Child Life Specialist program.

  Her face is the last thing I remember.

  * * *

  I SIT UP with a start, unsure of where I am.

  My eyes struggle to make out my surroundings in the darkness, and then I realize I’m lying down on my couch. The TV screen is a flat, ominous blue, the DVD player no longer running. And I am alone.

  Damn, damn, damn.

  I fly to my feet, instantly aware of how badly I messed this up. Damn.

  I notice that Jake’s keys are still on the counter and his sneakers are near the front door. My shoulder
s fall. Thank God. He didn’t leave.

  I honestly feel like the worst person. He was making this effort, this is something that’s so important to him, and I freakin’ fell asleep. I may have had my reasons, but in my head … sorority sisters … margaritas … beer pong … they sound like little more than lame excuses.

  Walking on tiptoe, I ease open my bedroom door, afraid I’m going to find him perched angrily on the edge of my bed. Instead, I find him asleep, facing the wall, snoring softly. I’m not sure if it’s better or worse.

  Standing there, watching him, I rack my brain for some way to fix this, or at least say “I’m sorry.” After a minute, I smile mischievously.

  I scamper across my room and bite my lip when I see it. The still-unopened bag from Bare with Flare. I snatch it up. In the bathroom, I shed my clothing and change into the red lace boy shorts and matching bustier. It’s one way to apologize, anyway.

  Before heading back to my room, I brush my teeth long and hard, getting rid of any traces of tequila. Then I return to him, turning on the soft night-light in the corner, crawling into the bed beside him.

  I find his body under the covers and gently kiss his neck. Nothing. I scooch a bit farther and nibble on his earlobe. He wakes with a start, swatting his hand through the air as if a flying insect were in the room. He rolls over when he realizes I’m there, his eyes opening wide when he gets a good look at me.

  “Hey.” I smile seductively. “Surprise.”

  But his eyes, now fully open, don’t warm a smidgen. “You fell asleep,” he murmurs flatly.

  I sit up on my knees. “Jake, I’m really, really sorry. It’s just … I got up so early because the girls were coming, and we ran around all day, and then we went to El Barrio, and…” I collapse back onto my heels. “I didn’t know you were coming over. I would have…” I don’t know what I would have. I sigh. “I know this is important to you, and I want to care about it, too.”

  He narrows his eyes. “You want to care about it. But you don’t.”

  I push my hair out of my face. This wasn’t how I pictured this going. “That’s not what I mean. You know that’s not what I mean.” I press my body back down over his. “Let me make it up to you. I think it’s awesome that you want to involve me in this.” I try kissing his ear again. “I get it, and I think it will make us stronger, too.” My hand roams over his chest, down to his stomach.