"Hauling your drunk-asses back to the hotel is not how I envisioned ending this night out," Carter says, shooting Gracie and Felix dirty looks as he drags them down the sidewalk by their forearms.
They just giggle together as a response.
The first time I saw Maddie drunk, she was flopped over the armrest of our worn-out living room couch, giggling into the couch cushions. Nobody else was in the room, so I didn't know what she could possibly be giggling at. She just looked really... happy. And I thought that she really was. So much so that I couldn't even imagine that alcohol could be a factor; I thought she was just naturally content. And for a split second–before I saw the bottle of rum on the ground–I was really happy too. Because if Maddie was happy then I had no reason not to be.
"It's not like you're completely sober," I tell him.
"Compared to them, I basically am."
And that's true. After downing half a glass of vodka, Carter refused every glass that came with Felix's constant steam of alcohol. He spent the entire night dancing with me, his hands travelling up and down my body as I danced around him. It was electrifying. The heat of both of our bodies sent sparks up my skin, like little bursts of fireworks. I wanted him to touch me, to be near me. And that is fucking terrifying. Sure, I've always thought that Carter is attractive–objectively so. And, sure, his personality has some redeeming qualities. But actually liking Carter Conners, and not just tolerating him, is something that I've spent this entire trip denying. But now it's getting really fucking hard.
"The taxi is literally right there," Carter says, pointing to a car parked at the curb in front of us. "Just stay upright for one more minute."
"We are!" Gracie protests.
"You're going to knock Jones off the sidewalk," Carter says, rolling his eyes.
When we reach the taxi, Carter pushes Gracie and Felix into the backseat after lifting a hand in acknowledgement to the driver. I stand beside the passenger side door, letting him know that he can join Felix and Gracie in the backseat. If I'm being honest, I just don't want to risk the chance of one of them throwing up on me.
"Are you sure you don't want me to take the front seat?" Carter asks.
"Why? Planning on spending the entire ride chatting up the driver?" The driver in question is a gorgeous girl with glossy lips and black hair, who looks like she just graduated college.
Carter opens the car door for me. "Jealous, Jones?"
"Just making an educated assumption."
He raises an eyebrow. "That I would rather talk to her than to you?"
I'm glad that it's dark enough outside to hide my blush. What is happening to me? "I think you'd rather talk to anyone else instead of me."
"You know, this might be one of the few times in your life that you are absolutely incorrect."
Gracie's head appears around the headrest of the passenger seat. "If you guys are done discussing how gorgeous my cousin is, feel free to get your asses in the car so we can go back to the hotel."
"Your cousin?" Carter and I both ask at the same time.
"We asked you to call a taxi," I say.
"Yeah, but what's the point in paying for a taxi when we have a free ride right here."
The driver–Gracie's cousin–turns around to face us. "Hi, I'm Naomi. I live a few towns over, but my girlfriend and I are apartment shopping here, so Gracie called me to see if I could pick you guys up." Then she turns toward Gracie, "But she seems to have left out the part about her being plastered."
"I am not plastered," Gracie objects, but her garbled speech says otherwise. "We were at a club! Of course I'm going to have a few drinks."
"You were at a sixteen-plus club. The only drinks you should have been having are juice and soda," Naomi scolds her cousin.
"You are such a bore," Gracie groans into the leather headrest.
"Sorry, I don't support underage drinking," Naomi retorts, sarcastically. Then, turning to me, she says, "You can get in. I have the directions."
I nod and get in the car. Carter does the same by climbing into the backseat.
It's almost 1 AM. We stayed at the club way longer that I anticipated and now I'm fighting to keep my eyes open. Gracie is talking to Naomi about something, but I am too busy sinking into my seat and drifting in and out of sleep to pay attention. There are only one or two other cars on the road with us. It's so peaceful outside. Only streetlights and bright stars shine through the night sky. I've always wanted to fall asleep underneath the stars. I think it'd be nice.
"Why'd you want to do that?" Felix asks, sounding even more tired than I am. Apparently my drowsy state has impacted my ability to control what comes out of my mouth.
"I don't know. I feel like it'd be easy to fall asleep under the stars because then I could just count them until I went to sleep." I don't tell him that I'd try anything to stop the nightmares that weave their way into my dreams or the dreams that are just as painful as the nightmares.
"Or you'd get eaten by a bear," Felix says, all matter of fact.
That makes me laugh. "I don't think there are any bears in Fairridge.
Felix just shrugs. "There are bears everywhere."
I raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate. He doesn't. I swear I can hear Carter snickering from beside Felix.
I'm considering closing my eyes and taking a small nap during the car ride, when I hear Gracie's voice cut through the silence that settled throughout the car. "I just think that you and Houda would be happier settling in a house. Like, one with a lawn and more than two rooms."
I hear Naomi sigh from beside me. I roll over onto my side to look at her. Her eyes are firmly trained on the road and her fingers are tightly gripping the steering wheel. She's wearing a knitted green sweater and distressed black jeans. "I hear you, Grace. But we don't need a lawn or more rooms. Houda and I don't want kids and we don't want any pets. There's no point in buying a bigger space if we're not going to use it."
"What if you want to have a bunch of people over?" Gracie challenges, resting her elbows on the back of her cousin's seat.
"That doesn't warrant buying a house instead of an apartment," Naomi tells her, lifting one hand off of the steering wheel to swipe away the wisps of hair that have fallen over her forehead.
"But you're moving even further away from home. People are going to want to visit you and they're going to have nowhere to stay."
Naomi sighs, "Grace, we're not opening a hotel. It's our home. We're buying it for ourselves, not to accommodate other people."
"But where am I going to stay when I come visit?" Gracie asks.
"You can sleep on the couch."
Gracie rams her elbow into the back of Naomi's seat. "You're the worst."
Naomi just laughs, "You're drunk, you don't mean that."
"I think I fucking do," Gracie grumbles, leaning back onto her seat–more like onto Felix because she's practically crushing him.
"Language," Naomi sings, turning into the parking lot of Lux Inn.
"You're not my mom," Gracie groans.
"I'll tell her," Naomi retorts.
"You wouldn't," Gracie challenges.
"Try me." And, with that, Naomi parks the car and unlocks the doors for us.
We each thank her and, while Carter attempts to pull Felix out of the backseat, Gracie opens the driver's side door and hugs her cousin. Naomi drives away after telling us that she'll be in town for two more days if we need anything.
We're not supposed to be out this late, regardless of whether or not teachers from our school are present. So, we enter through the side door of the hotel–avoiding the receptionist–and head up the stairs. Most of the doors lining the hallway are accented with "Do Not Disturb" signs. I tell Gracie to text Amanda that she's staying in my room so she doesn't get caught hungover by her overbearing debate partner. Felix seems too out of it to even realize that we passed his floor and are taking him to our room. He keeps mumbling about wanting pizza, but Carter tells him that all we have is old pancakes in the mini fridge.
"I'll take it," Felix mumbles, losing his footing on the stairs and nearly knocking down Carter.
"You're a fucking klutz," I sigh, grabbing Felix's other arm.
"That's rude," Felix pouts.
I roll my eyes.
When we reach the hotel room, I pull our room key out of my bra and unlock the door. Carter raises his eyebrows at me, but I don't entertain him with a response. We flop Felix onto the bed–just like we did a few nights ago–and place Gracie down beside him. Carter hands Felix the pancakes, and a glass of water for each of them. We're all still in our sweaty dinner/clubbing outfits, but I anticipate that it'd be a little difficult to coerce Gracie or Felix into changing, so we just let them fall asleep dressed as they are. It doesn't take long for the both of them to go from complaining about their forming headaches to snoring into the pillows.
"Those two are exhausting," Carter sighs, flopping down into the armchair in the corner of the room.
"I know," I reply, picking up Gracie and Felix's empty glasses off of the bedside table.
"And now we don't have a bed," he points out.
"Well, I've already not had one before," I say, going to sit on the office chair tucked into the singular wooden desk in our hotel room.
Carter huffs in annoyance. "I said I was sorry about that."
"Did you?" I challenge.
"I did. And even if I didn't, I'm saying it now: I'm sorry."
"Forgiven, but you're on probation."
He gets up from the armchair and walks over to stand in front of me. His knees are touching mine and I have to look up to meet his sparkling green eyes. "Oh, am I?"
"I think it's only fair," I say, twisting the chair in an effort to get him to step back. He doesn't.
"And you're known for being fair, aren't you, Jones?" He's so close. Too close. As close as we were in the rain just a few hours ago.
"What are you doing?" I ask him, my voice coming out as a faint whisper.
"We're having a conversation, Jones."
"This is not a conversation," I tell him, refusing to break eye contact.
"Your time away from Fairridge seems to have messed with your understanding of vocabulary. We're two people talking, Jones. That's a conversation."
"Step back," I tell him. He does. And I stand up from the office chair. "Let's get one thing straight: there is nothing going on here. I am here–at JW Debate and at Fairridge–because I worked hard to be here. And I will spend the next year and a half doing just that: working hard. You–" I jab a finger at his chest– "do not fit within this equation."
From where I'm standing, I could count every freckle on his nose. The degree at which the left corner of his mouth turns up. He looks so... amused. Like he knows I'm bluffing, and he's just waiting for me to admit it. I'm not going to.
Finally, he says, "Why are you so afraid of admitting that you like me?"
"I'm not," I say. Then, I add, "I don't."
He steps forward, my nose so close to his neck that I can smell the fresh scent of his cologne. "Then, tell me to move back," he whispers.
I swallow. I try to tell him to move, but I don't find the words. Because I don't want him to move. I want his hands on my hips. I want his lips on mine. God, I want him. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. How easy would it be to wrap my arms around his neck and pull him to me? How much would one more kiss really hurt? But if I kiss him, if I admit that there really is something going on, then I loose my control. The control that I'm so desperately holding on to.
"Move back," I tell him. Even I wince at the words.
He moves away, but he looks confused. Carter Conners, always so sure of himself, looks utterly perplexed. Maybe I should be taking this as a small victory, but I just feel disappointed and alone. Because the last thing I wanted was for him to actually retreat further away from me.
He clears his throat, "Goodnight, Jones."
"Night, Conners."
Tomorrow, everything will go back to the way it was. And I absolutely hate it.
We're officially starting the last day of JW Debate. Actually, Carter and I are starting the last day, Felix and Gracie are still passed out on the bed, drooling onto the blanket that's pulled up to their chins. As expected, things between Carter and I are the same. I fell asleep on the corner of the bed because Gracie and Felix cuddled the entire night. Carter slept on the armchair with no complaints. He woke up first and brought me a black coffee and a bagel from the dining hall. Then, after I woke up, we both went down to get food for Felix and Gracie. Scrambled eggs, waffles, and hash browns litter both bedside tables.
I've been trying to gently wake up Felix and Gracie in an attempt to save them a headache. Carter has a different approach.
He yanks the blanket off the bed and onto the floor. "You two better wake up right now or I'm throwing you guys off this fucking bed."
Felix and Gracie let out mumbled sounds of protest, but I know that no amount of alcohol can made them forget that today's the last day. So, they clutch their likely pounding heads, and accept the forks that Carter is holding out for them and the bottle ibuprofen that I've retrieved out of my purse for them to take.
I get dressed in a skirt, white button up, and sweater vest. I straighten my hair so it's smooth and hitting past my waist. I swipe some mascara on my lashes, but hold off on anymore makeup because I'm going to take the time to do it for the ceremony tonight.
Felix and Gracie eat their food and then head back to their hotel rooms to change. We agree to meet in the conference hall for the usual morning lecture, which I anticipate will be longer than usual, since it's the last day and all.
After they're gone, Carter and I continue to get ready in silence. I settle on wearing my black flats and throw on a black overcoat for the walk to the board office. Carter wears a variation of his usual outfit: a dark green button up and black jeans. I still find myself staring a little too long at where the shirt is rolled up his forearms and the muscle definition peaking out through the thin material.
"Ready?" Carter asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I nod, "Yeah, let's do this."
The conference hall is buzzing with the sounds of students and teachers predicting how far they've come in the competition. A girl two rows in front of me is convinced that she's made it into the top three, and will not stop reassuring some teacher from her school that she's won enough debates to get a medal.
Gracie seems to be listening in on the conversation, as well. "Ugh, I swear it's going to be the end of the world if some of these people don't win. No offence, Sadie."
"None taken," I reply.
She's layered about a pound of concealer under her eyes to conceal the dark circles that formed from her excessive alcohol consumption and lack of sleep. Felix looks half-dead, but he's doing a good job of playing it off as excessive tiredness.
After a few more minutes pass, Dr. Snyder steps out onto the stage. He's dressed in his usual suit and wastes no times giving us the usual introduction, which follows after he coerces the whole room into screaming "last day of JW Debate."
"Now," he says, after, once again, going through the list of prohibited acts and items. "Let's get into the schedule for today. It's an exciting one! You will be debating with your partners this morning to rack up as many final points as possible for your team. There will be no announced winner for these debates, as the scores will be kept undisclosed."
"That's unfortunate," Gracie whispers in my ear. "I would've looked forward to proving that I'm a better debater than Amanda."
"Lunch," Dr. Snyder continues, "will be unavailable today. We encourage all debaters to head out of the building after they have finished their debates. The kitchen will be preparing appetizers for tonight's ceremony and this conference hall will be getting decorated.
"Any further information can be found in your itineraries and we will see you all tonight to conclude this year's JW Debate Competition. Thank you!"
And, with that, the entire room bursts into applause and Dr. Snyder even stops for a bow before heading off stage. We only have ten minutes until our final debates begin, so Gracie and Felix wave their goodbyes before scrambling to find their debate partners. Carter and I stand up and head across the hall to the small office that we'll be debating in.
"Are you nervous?" Carter asks, falling into step beside me.
"To debate you? No."
He laughs. "No. For the results."
I don't know how to respond to that. I want to win. I want to go back to Fairridge with a huge golden trophy and a fat medal hanging around my neck. I've convinced myself that we're going to win. That there's no other option. Being the best, well, that's all I want to be. I don't think there's anything wrong with being competitive. People have called me bitchy and cocky, and I've never understood what scared people so much about a girl wanting to win. People were surprised that I didn't wait for someone to cross the finish line before me; that I didn't let people discredit my work. And maybe it is all a front; that I'm not actually a winner. Maddie was supposed to cross the finish line first, but I pushed her out of the way. And, at first, it felt good. Really fucking good. Like I was on top of world. And victory still sometimes feels like that–a high full of adrenaline–but it also feels... empty. Like I've taken everything out of it and I'm just left with the trophy and a hint of the satisfaction, but that satisfaction eventually wears off. Sometimes, I feel like a heartless monster when I say that I'll still take victory over anything else, regardless, because, at the end of the day, nobody can be sad about winning.
So, I say, "No, I'm not nervous."
Carter smiles. And I know he understands because, while he may not be as vicious as me, he'll also pick victory every time. I wonder if that's what we're doing: seeing who's going to win break the rope of tension between us first. Whether the trophy will be us together or further apart than ever, I don't even know.
The set up of the room is the same it has been for the past week. Three judges sit at a long table at the front of the room. Carter and I each take our assigned seats and wait for one of the judges to announce the resolution and which side we will be arguing for.
A lady with a short white bob and a floral top clears her throat. "Welcome Carter Conners and Sadie Jones to your final debate. As you know, you will be debating against each other and we will be scoring you the same as if you were arguing against another school, but we will not be announcing scores. Now, if you do not have any questions, we will begin by reading the resolution and your prep time will start."
Carter and I just nod our heads.
The judge beside her–a man with a long beard–claps his hands together. "Perfect. You might find this one quite relevant. The resolution is as follows: Private school is more beneficial for students than public school. We do not have your stance written on your name cards, so we are just going to tell you."
The third judge says, "Sadie Jones, you are arguing as the proposition. Carter Conners, you are arguing as the opposition. You're prep time begins... now."
The first thing I notice about the resolution is how open-ended it is. Obviously, whether private school is beneficial for someone depends on what kind of student they are. Since that isn't specified, I decide list every good thing about private school in my notebook, and then try to confine that to five to six points.
I know that Carter is going to talk about the stress of private school and how private schools only cater to a specific type of person: someone who has the means to actually apply and get into a school. If there's one thing I remember that convinced Maddie to apply to schools outside of our town, it's the fact that private school is often a more personalized experience. Whether that's truly beneficial or not is up for debate, but she was always telling me that she was going to work with her advisor to rack up a ton of community service hours, join the right extracurriculars, and get into a great university.
I continue scribbling down notes until the bearded judge says that time's up. Carter and I each take our respected stands with fierce expressions. This is nothing new. We've debated each other for practice many times. But this, this is real.
"You were ruthless," Carter says, running to catch up with me as I exit the office. If I'm being honest, it was a good debate. We were constantly refuting each other and using up all our allowed time.
"I'm taking that as a compliment," I tell him. We're meeting up with Felix and Gracie to go go-karting later, so we're heading straight back to the hotel.
"You should," he tells me, earnestly. "But I do not appreciate you completely grilling me for saying 'boarding school' instead of 'private school' one time."
"I believe it invalidated your argument," I say. I actually just enjoyed watching him squirm, knowing he couldn't interrupt me until I was done my POI.
"It did no such thing!" Carter protests.
We step outside into the sunlight. It's funny how the weather has completely shifted during out week here. It's still cold enough that wearing a coat is acceptable, but certainly not necessary.
"You were good, Jones," Carter says. "As my partner and as my opponent."
"Which one do you prefer?" I ask.
Carter grabs my wrist, spinning me around so his eyes lock with mine. "I think you know which one I prefer."
...
A/N
And that's another chapter completed. I'm sorry if there are quite a few editing mistakes, but I've been staring at my writing document for too long and just need to get this chapter out.
But you can expect a fun chapter next since we're off go-karting.
As always, thank you for reading and I'll be back with Carter's POV next!