Page 18

SPICE GIRLS HANGOVER

TEMPEST

M y pendejo of a phone wouldn’t shut up.

I cracked one eye open, immediately regretting every life choice that had led to this moment. Especially the fancy fruity flavored vodka. And the beer pong. And... oh god.

Flynn’s lap.

I’d sat in Flynn Kingman’s lap. In front of everyone. A lot of the night was a blur, but I remembered that.

My phone buzzed again. Twenty-seven notifications, all from the Baby Donkey Sitters Club group chat. With growing horror, I opened the first message.

It was a video. Of me. Downing two shots. At the same time.

Kill me now.

The next message was worse. A photo of me curled up in Flynn’s lap like some kind of drunk sorority cat, his arms wrapped around me, looking down at me with an expression that made my chest hurt .

“You’re alive.” Parker’s whisper stabbed directly into my brain. “How’s the hangover?”

I pulled my pillow over my face. “I’m dead. This is my ghost. January whatever the day is will now be known as the true Dio de las Muertos. Please delete all social media immediately and find me in the afterlife.”

“But then how would we preserve the greatest moment in KAT history? When Tempest Navarro, queen of control, decided to teach the entire rugby team Spanish insults about Flynn Kingman?”

I peeked out from under the pillow. “I did what now?”

“Oh, it gets better.” The bed dipped as Parker sat down. “You called him arrogant in front of everyone. Then something about his... assets? Ricky refused to translate that part, for which I later made out with him to reward his act of service. And then you fell asleep in Flynn’s lap.”

“You did what? And I did nawwwwt.”

Parker held up her phone, showing me the incriminating photo.

“You absolutely did. And then Flynn wouldn’t let anyone else take you home.

Hannah, Alice, and I had to help him sneak up the back stairs to our room since you were completely out.

He carried you the whole way, got you tucked in with water and Advil by your bed. ”

Oh no. No, no, no.

A soft bray from the corner of the room interrupted my spiral of mortification. I lifted my head, slowly, because the room was still spinning, to see my secret roommate watching me with concerned brown eyes.

“Hey, baby,” I whispered. “Come here. I’m okay. I’m...okay. ”

The donkey clip-clopped over to my bed and pressed his velvet nose against my cheek. For a baby animal who’d been basically abandoned at birth, he had remarkable emotional intelligence.

“He was worried about you,” Parker said. “Kept making these little sounds whenever you stirred in your sleep.”

“Flynn?” It was against every rule in the book to even have a man upstairs at the house, but to have one spend the night? That was a conduct unbecoming a sister offense that could get one booted.

I shot upright, then immediately regretted it as my head threatened to explode. “What? Flynn spent the night? He knows?”

“Relax. He did not spend the night.”

“But he knows about the donkey being in our room?” I was going to throw up.

“He was a little distracted making sure you were okay. Maybe he didn’t notice.” She handed me a bottle of water. “Seriously, Temporino. What happened last night? That wasn’t like you.”

I flopped back into my pillows, wishing they would suck me up.

“I remember him leaving with some girl, and then...” I pressed the cold bottle to my forehead. “It’s all kind of fuzzy after that.”

“You mean Sasha? The one he drove home because she was too drunk to drive?” Parker’s voice was gentle. “He came right back. Looking for you.”

The donkey nudged my arm, clearly picking up on my distress. I scratched behind his ears, grateful for the distraction.

“It doesn’t matter. I made a complete fool of myself. Teaching Spanish insults to half the athletic department? Falling asleep on him? God.” I put my pillow over my face but winced at the movement. “I’m never leaving this room again.”

“They weren’t all insults,” Parker said with a smirk. “I distinctly remember something about his incredible?—”

I threw my pillow at her.

The donkey, thinking this was a new game, grabbed the pillow in his teeth and started prancing around the room.

“No, baby, don’t!”

Too late. He knocked over my backpack, spilling books everywhere. Including my romance novel plotting notebook.

Great. Because this morning needed one more reminder of all the secrets I was juggling.

“So,” Parker said, rescuing my notebook before it could become donkey breakfast. “What are you going to do about Flynn?”

“Nothing. I’m going to avoid him until graduation or death, whichever comes first.”

“Tem...”

“Nope. Not discussing it.” I pulled the covers over my head. “I’m just going to lie here and wait for the earth to swallow me whole.”

The donkey made a disapproving sound and headbutted my shoulder through the blanket.

“Even the donkey thinks you’re being dramatic.” Parker tugged the covers down. “Come on. You have Sunday dinner with your sisters, and if you don’t show up, they’ll come looking. You know how Catalina gets.”

I groaned. She was right. And showing up hungover to family dinner was still better than letting the Spicy Girls storm the sorority house looking for me.

“Fine.” I sat up slowly. “But first I need to figure out how to delete about fifty photos and videos from the group chat.”

“And feed your secret emotional support donkey.”

“That too.” I scratched the donkey’s ears as he snuffled hopefully at my pockets for treats. “At least you still respect me, right buddy?”

He promptly sneezed in my face.

“Rude.”

A couple hours later and at least I was showered and dressed... and sober.

I slid my sunglasses back on before stepping into the delicious smells of the Navarro family kitchen.

If anything could cure a hangover, it was Ophelia’s pozole.

The scent was already making me feel better.

It was her look and the Spice Girls Inquisition I knew was coming that had me turning a little green.

“?Qué diablos?” She squinted at me over a simmering pot of something that smelled amazing and also like it might make me throw up. “Are you hungover?”

“No.”

“She’s lying,” Freddie called from the living room, not looking up from what appeared to be game film on her laptop. “It’s all over the DSU underground FaceSpace. Our sweet sister went wild. ”

“Jesus.” Catalina abandoned her critic’s position at Ophelia’s elbow to snatch my glasses off. “You are hungover. You never drink.”

“I drink,” I protested, squinting against the afternoon light streaming through the bay windows.

“Wine with dinner doesn’t count,” Rosalind said, sitting all prim and proper at the kitchen island with her ever-present phone. “Neither does that time you had half a margarita on New Year’s and declared yourself tipsy.”

Freddie’s grin turned wicked. “Want to tell us about your Spanish lessons last night?”

I groaned, dropping my head onto the cool granite counter. “Can we not?”

“We absolutely must.” Cat pulled up a stool next to me. “What happened to my sensible sister who makes Mamá proud with all her responsible choices?”

“Maybe she finally snapped,” Freddie suggested. “It’s about damn time.”

“Or maybe,” Rosalind said meaningfully, “it has something to do with a certain football player who carried her home.”

I lifted my head. “How do you know about that?”

“Please.” She stirred whatever heavenly torture was in that pot. “I still have my sources at the KAT house. Someone texted me the video.”

“Which video?”

“Several.” Freddie finally looked up from her laptop. “But don’t worry, the one of you teaching the rugby team to say ‘ Kingman tiene un trasero que no para’ is my favorite.”

I was never drinking again .

“Remember when she used to be fun?” Ophelia asked no one in particular.

“Nope.” Ros shook her head and crossed her arms.

“Yes,” Catalina wagged her finger. “When we all spent summers at Abuela’s villa Oaxaca, Nerdy Spice here was fun.”

Oh mierda. Catalina knew. Of course she did.

“Before Mamá decided we needed to ‘develop our interests into sustainable careers’ or whatever and sent us to academic summer programs.”

“You mean before she wanted alone time with Papá,” Ophelia corrected.

“Can you blame her?” Freddie waggled her eyebrows. “Have you seen the way she looks at Papá in his professor tweed? Or when he tells her he wants to play doctor with her later when he thinks we aren’t listening?”

“?Cállate!” we all shouted, throwing dish towels and oven mitts at her.

Ophelia set a steaming bowl of pozole in front of me. “When’s the last time you really relaxed, Tem? And don’t say ‘when I’m reading’ because we all know that’s just like Papá, work disguised as pleasure, Miss Literature Major, following in his footsteps.”

I stared into my bowl, stomach churning for reasons that had nothing to do with my hangover. If they only knew how much work it really was. I picked up my spoon, mostly to have something to do with my hands. “Can we talk about something else? Like Abuela’s welcome home party?”

“Nice try.” Catalina sat across from me. “But we’re not letting this go. Something’s up with you. You’re stressed, it looks like you’re not sleeping. Don’t think I haven’t noticed those ojeras you try to hide, and now you’re getting drunk at frat parties?”

“Hockey house,” I corrected weakly.

“Not the point.” She reached for my hand. “Go back to Oaxaca for spring break. Abuela would love it, and you clearly need the escape. Mamá won’t even know, she’s too busy with her clinic in Ecuador to track our whereabouts.”

“I can’t. I have... commitments.”

“What commitments?”

If they only knew. The book deadline. The meetings in L.A. The secret baby donkey living in my room.

“Spring break at Abuela’s villa would do you good,” Ophelia said. “Remember that time we helped the magician sneak into her gated community when she wanted to surprise us with a birthday party?”