Page 59 of The Great Dating Fake Off
I park next to the side entrance to our tower. Alessia’s vehicle pulls in beside mine.
It’s like a clown car opening up as everyone falls out, whatever jackets or purses or bridal sashes people remember to take draped over their bodies. Thunder rumbles the sky. It sounds like it’s going to pour any minute.
Alessia emerges from the SUV, lips flat-lined. “These girls are a wreck.”
“Yeah? Well, Enzo is passed out in my back seat. Sergio is close to that point, too.”
Gia’s arm cradles her stomach. “I need a bathroom.”
Ro’s eyes are closed. “I need our bed.”
Thanks to the strict rules set in place by the parents paying for this thing, Ro and Enzo weren’t “allowed” to share. Enzo’s stuck bunking with Sergio, and Ro and Gia share a room. I had to listen to Enzo loudly complain about this very topic at dinner.
“Take the rest of these drunkards upstairs, Rossi.” Alessia shoos us along. “I’ve got my brother and Sergio.”
I hold her eye. “You sure?”
“Yes. I know how to handle them drunk. And it’s better Z embarrasses himself in front of his twin and not his bride or friends.”
I’ve never been more grateful to be DD in my life, watching this trainwreck unfold.
As soon as we cram into the elevator, Ro’s head thuds against the mirrored wall. “I think I should’ve kept drinking, because now it’s wearing off, and I feel all wrong.” She clutches the space above her stomach, almost like she was aiming for her heart.
“What do you need?” Nora asks softly.
Gia answers for her. “Death.”
The elevator encourages our exit with a sharp ding.
Benji hugs the wall as he walks, his key card still aloft from when he let us into the resort tower. That is a man ready to get into his room and end the day.
“610,” he announces, hovering his card at his door handle. “Nora, you coming?”
“Go ahead. I’m going to make sure the girls are okay.”
“We’re 612,” Ro manages, placing two hands on the wall to brace herself. “Gia babe, where’s the room key?”
Gia’s eyes are firmly shut. “Check my boobs.”
I stare at the ceiling while Nora goes fishing for the plastic card.
“There’s nothing here,” Nora says. “I mean, there’s boob, but nothing else. It must’ve fallen out when you were doing flips on the dance floor.”
Gia’s voice is a warning of impending danger. “I really need a bathroom. Or a trash can.”
I whip a key from my back pocket and usher Gia forward. “My room’s right here. 614.”
She slaps her hand over her mouth. As soon as the door is open she darts for the bathroom and doesn’t even have time to shut the door before she’s on her knees in front of the toilet. Nora rushes in behind her and grabs her hair.
“That will make me sick,” Ro says wearily. “I can’t watch people throw up.”
“Go lie down,” I tell her. “We can’t have two people getting sick.”
I pace the foyer space, plaid carpet beneath my feet, as Ro lies facedown on my bed, fingers clutching sheets like she’s holding on for dear life. Nora gets comfortable beside Gia, cooing quiet words I can’t hear and rubbing her back.
When it’s clear that these will be the battle stations for the foreseeable future, I take an extra blanket from the closet and spread it on the floor in front of the television. I turn it on to drown out the sound of Gia’s performance. An old sitcom with a laugh track drones on as I stare at the screen and wait for Nora.
Minutes—or maybe hours, who knows—later, Nora tiptoes out from the bathroom. I never bothered to turn on the overhead light, so she’s backlit by the bathroom light and barely front lit by the pulsing television.
