The Good, the Bad, and the Gwen | ✔️

28 - A Wrinkle in the Universe

"It is to me."

He gives me a faint smile and averts his eyes. "Then, you're welcome."

Hartley pokes her head through the passenger window. I didn't even realize she'd gotten out of the car. "Are you two coming or what? Don't forget we have a curfew."

We hop out and silently follow Nick and Hartley up the driveway into Melanie's backyard. As soon as we pass through the privacy gate, the enormous in-ground pool shimmers back at us, empty and inviting, the fiber optic lights making the water a deep, royal blue.    

Goosebumps dot my flesh as I check out the adjoining hot tub. I run my hands up and down my arms, hoping they'll go away but they don't. This is supposed to be a fun adventure, but I can't relax.

I stare directly at Hartley, praying she can read my mind. She doesn't. "Aren't we going to get our swimsuits?" Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes.

"I wasn't planning to. You're wearing a bra and panties, right? It's basically the same thing."

Nick chuckles. "What's the matter, Gwen? Scared to show a little flesh?"

"No, but I—" Okay, so maybe they are practically the same thing, but Hartley's suggestion leaves me feeling naked, even though I'm fully clothed. But Summer of Change. I take a deep breath and make another un-Gwen-like decision. "You're right. It's cool."

Hartley's brows arch, probably because I'm not staging a protest. "Great. Then I'll get the drinks." She looks over her shoulder as she heads toward the pool house. "You want a beer, Sully?"

His eyes connect with mine. "No thanks, I'm good."

"Suit yourself." She turns to me. "Do you want anything?"

I shake my head, because I'm not ready to change that much yet. She disappears behind the door, emerging a moment later with a bottle of vodka and a can of beer in both pockets of her cardigan. She sets all three on the patio table and twists off the cap, taking a long chug from the half-empty bottle of liquor.

Nick pulls his shirt over broad shoulders, revealing a tanned six pack underneath—so far as I can tell, the only semi-decent thing about him. He kicks his sandals to the side and peels off his shorts until all that's left is black boxer briefs. My eyes flick away, not wanting to look too closely. He snaps back the tab on a can of beer and holds it to his lips, tilting his head back as the liquid makes its way down his throat. He lets out a long belch.

"Neanderthal." Hartley laughs and tugs the band from her hair, shaking her curls until they cascade around her shoulders. She slips off her cardigan and hesitates for a split second before pulling the sundress over her head, tossing it across the back of a patio chair. All she's wearing now is a pale blue bra and matching panties.

Nick's gaze leisurely travels the length of her body, hungrily sizing her up. "Damn, girl." He wraps his arms around Hartley's waist and pulls her into his chest. "You're lookin' good."

And something inside my stomach flips. Because no ... she does not.

I've been in New Orleans for several weeks now, but this is the first I've seen my friend half-dressed. She always manages to change in the bathroom and typically comes out wearing any number of layers. Hartley's always been thin but looking at her now it's clear she's lost a ton of weight. I can count every rib in her torso, both front and back, and her hip bones jut out like two bulbous knobs on a dresser.

Hartley giggles as Nick gnaws the span of her neck. "I know where Mrs. Ruiz keeps the spare key. Why don't you and I take this party inside?"

"That's the best idea I've heard all night."