t w e n t y - o n e

*

I could have stayed by the pool all day, but eventually, the sun conquered us and we had to move. After a couple of hours in our room – dechlorinating in the shower, then napping in the respite of the air con – we checked in with the girls, but they were still locked in the embrace of the outlet malls. So we lunched alone together, catching up on our books and avoiding talk of the future, and ended up back out at the pool for the afternoon.

Now, evening has long since fallen and we're meeting Young-mi, Klara and Kristin for supper before they head back out for a night of drinking and gambling. Arjun's and my night won't be quite as exciting, I imagine. Even if I was twenty-one, I'd probably still get turned away from casinos and bars – I have a baby face, and I bet they'd think I had a fake ID.

Arjun and I arrive first, but not by long – we've only just stepped into the restaurant when the door opens behind me and Young-mi hugs me as though we haven't seen each other for days.

"Hi, March! How was your day?" she asks when she lets go. "You smell like a pool."

"We spent a lot of time at the pool," I say, catching a distinctly chlorinated tang when I push my hair off my face. "It was too hot to do anything else. Then it was too hot even for the pool."

She sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes. "So hot. Too hot outside." Nodding at the twins as they bustle in behind her, she says, "They shop more than me. I found coffee shop. Nice and cold. I think pool was a good idea."

"Well, it's open until midnight, I think," I say, "so it's there if you change your mind about gambling tonight."

"Oh, no. No." She shakes her head and wiggles her fingers. "Tonight we go to rollercoasters, then we drink and go to casino."

I can't think of anything worse. Stomach-churning, head-spinning rollercoasters followed by drinking and frittering away money in an overly-bright windowless room teeming with people. "Sounds good," I say. "You'll have an awesome time!"

Young-mi grins. "So will you."

"I don't even know what I'm doing yet."

She winks. Glances at Arjun. I follow her gaze. He's talking to Kristin and beckoning for Young-mi and me to follow him.

"What?" I ask. "What're you winking for? I don't get it."

"You will."

*

Young-mi refuses to answer my questions all evening so, of course, it's all I can think about. I'm pretty sure she knows I have a huge, blazing crush on Arjun but I don't understand her winking or her vague words. I manage not to zone out too hard as we eat, engaging in conversation with the twins and practically inhaling my food even though I'd thought I wasn't hungry when we arrived.

Somehow, by the time we've all paid – a confusing affair that takes too much maths for me, which makes Arjun laugh when I surrender my card and get him to fill out my receipt – it's ten o'clock. Two hours have passed in a flash, and I should be sleepy but after a day of resting and dozing, I'm wide awake.

And, yet again, we're alone. Arjun and me. Too young to enjoy everything Vegas has to offer.

On the way back to the hotel, we wander through the Neon Museum, and we manage to catch another show at the Bellagio fountains, and I'm sweating when we make it back to our room.

"So, Young-mi may have hooked me up," Arjun says as he heels off his shoes. I hear him wrong at first, my heart squeezing when I imagine that he and Young-mi hooked up, but after a couple of seconds my brain processes the words properly. 

"With what?" I ask. He pulls out a bag from down the side of his bed and empties it onto his bed. A bottle of vodka and two litres of Coke; a twelve-pack of Budweiser and a bottle of wine; a pack of cards. I grin, and it turns into a laugh. "Oh, shit. Wow."

"What'd I tell you, huh? We're bringing Vegas to our bedroom tonight," he says. "Vodka Coke?"

"Yes. Please."

He fills two of the hotel glasses and passes me one, and holds his up to toast. When I clink my glass against his, he says, "Cheers. Here's to us having the night of our lives in a Vegas hotel."

"Cheers," I say with a laugh, swigging a generous sip of my drink. The vodka to Coke ratio is a little closer than I'm used to but it goes down easily and the alcohol warms me from the inside out. I take another sip and cradle the glass in both hands.

"I don't know if we should be starting with the vodka," Arjun says, pursing his lips and drinking anyway.

"We should," I tell him. "Liquor before beer, you're in the clear. Beer before liquor, you'll be sicker." My dad has drilled that adage into me and I've yet to have the kind of monstrous hangover my friends have told me about. But, then again, I tend to stick to beer.

"I stand corrected." He drops onto his bed and throws me a plastic bag that came out of Young-mi's alcohol stash. "She told me you asked her for something," he says.

I definitely didn't. It's with caution that I peer inside the plastic drugstore bag, and try to dampen the flames in my cheeks. She's bought me a pack of condoms and a fucking bottle of lube, and I spy a note that says, in big spider-like letters, JUST IN CASE! SAFETY FIRST! 

Ok, so she definitely knows about my crush. Which means everybody probably knows. I've spent way more time with Arjun than I've spent with her, so he must know. He has to. 

I stuff the bag into my backpack and mumble, "Um, yeah, just some meds."

I'm gonna kill her tomorrow.

Arjun holds up his glass. "Hopefully nothing that will be rendered useless by a night of drinking."

Quite the opposite, I think. "Nope, I'm all good."

"In that case, let's begin."

*

I'm so fucking bad at card games, but my embarrassment has turned to hilarity. We started out with a harmless game of snap, which Arjun won with ease. Every time I slapped down my hand to snap a six and a nine, his laugh set me off, and I stopped caring about the jumble of numbers when it was worth fucking up just to hear his laugh. It turns out that when you turn snap into a drinking game, and you have a major problem with numbers, you end up drinking quite a bit.

I'm on my fourth vodka Coke already and my limbs are loose, my hands clumsier than usual. I'm not so far gone as to forget myself and who I'm with and where I am, but I can feel the strings of my filter slowly untying themselves as Arjun shuffles the cards.

"Ok, you know Blackjack?" he asks as he deftly organises the deck, cards fluttering between his fingers like the butterflies in my stomach – good ones this time.

"Nope." I sip my drink and almost spill the whole thing down my front. "Does it involve counting?"

I know by his grin that it does, long before he says, "Yeah, just a bit."

I give him an elaborate shrug. "Who cares. Let's play."

He deals me two cards face down, the same for him. He turns over one – an eight – and I turn over a ten. His second is a two. My second is a four.

"What now?"

"The aim is to make twenty-one," he says. "Whoever's closest to twenty-one wins, but you can't go over. The loser drinks."

I may have lost a lot more than him, but he's been drinking at the same pace and as he deals, he finishes off his drink. His movements are loose and free when he pours another, a lot more vodka before the Coke this time.

"Aces are one or eleven, your choice. Kings, Queens and Jacks are worth ten. If you want another card, say hit me."

"Hit me," I say, instantly. He laughs and deals me another ten. It takes a second for my brain to figure out that two tens and a four are higher than twenty-one. I drink. Arjun grins and deals again.

I have an eight and a nine, and I don't try to add the two before I ask for another card. I get a three.

"Ooh. You're on twenty," he says. He's on fifteen, and he tentatively takes a third card. Seven.

I don't need to do the maths when his face tells me everything, and I cheer and point a loopy finger at him. "Drink! I win!"

With each round, we somehow get closer and closer. I don't know if I'm unconsciously scooting towards him or if he is, or we both are, or if the room is slanting. The latter certainly feels kind of true, even though I know that's just the alcohol talking. Or perhaps it's because we're sitting on his bed, the mattress dipping with our weight. I'm not complaining. By the time I've lost seven times in a row, our knees are almost touching and there's hardly any space left for the cards. 

He deals me two tens, and I say, "Hit me."

"Are you serious?"

"So serious."

"Sure?"

"One hundred and two tens percent."

With a contagious laugh, he deals my third card. An ace. He gasps; I cheer; my drink spills.

"Fuck yeah! That's twenty-one, 'Jun!" I cry out, thrusting his glass at him. "It's about time you lost. Are you just trying to get me drunk?"

He chuckles and says, "You've been drunk for a couple of hours."

He's not wrong. I've lost track of time but we've been playing games for a while, idly sharing anecdotes and snippets of our lives. He tells me about how he struggled with homesickness when he went to boarding school; I tell him about struggling to make friends when I started high school. 

Alcohol helps when it comes to talking about heavier subjects, but I still stay away from discussing George, and Arjun seems to know better than to bring him up. Instead, we talk about bullies – we've both had our fair share it seems, though mostly nothing worse than schoolyard teasing and occasional name-calling – and he tells me about his struggles with anxiety, his low moods and overthinking. I try to explain how it feels to be the wrong kind of triple threat, how it feels to try to read words that won't cooperate, to try to understand numbers that might as well be a different language. 

It feels good to let loose and allow my inhibitions to slide, to share honestly and to not feel awkward when I plant my hands on his knees for leverage to stand. I broke the seal after my second drink, and I have peed a lot since then. It's a wonder I can even get drunk when I swear every mouthful runs straight through me. 

When I return, walking in a wavering line before I flop onto the bed opposite Arjun, I meet his grinning gaze. He's a smiley drunk, it seems, amusement in his voice when he says, "I think we're doing pretty well to fulfil our goal of recreating Ross and Rachel's Vegas night in."

"All we need to do now is get married," I say, and I've drunk enough that the words aren't followed by my usual embarrassment.

"Oh, I don't know about that. I don't think my parents would be too happy," he says, his tone too nonchalant for his words.

He doesn't seem to realise he's just dashed my hopes, even though I'm sure my dismay is scrawled across my face. When we tried our hand at poker earlier, he told me I have a terrible poker face, and he could practically read my cards by looking in my eyes.

"I mean," he continues, "they're pretty crazy about weddings. Mum's desperate for one of us to get married so she can go all out planning it. She'd be pretty pissed if I eloped in Las Vegas. My parents would not be happy if they found out I had a wedding they couldn't even go to."

Oh, how my heart soars. Dismay is replaced by goofy glee and I feel even more drunk in that instant when I say, "Get them on the next flight out! We'll need witnesses. Call them while we're still sober!"

Arjun laughs and leans forward, holding my gaze. "Still sober? I think it's a bit late for that."

I say nothing. He says nothing. His eyes are boring into mine and I'm lying across the bed, staring up at him and thinking please lean down, please just kiss me and put me out of my misery. The tension is almost unbearable, this thick, palpable moment of eye-locking silence.

But when he moves, it isn't to kiss me. He nods at my phone.

"It just buzzed," he says, and I clumsily grapple for it only to see that the source of the buzz is a text from George. Everything I've drunk tonight curdles in my stomach and a wave of nausea rolls over me, but I press it down to read the message.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: please, march. We never had a proper chance to talk things through. If this is the end, i think we'll both regret it. I already do, so much. I love you. I miss you. I love you, march. I dont know what you need to hear but i just want you to come home and talk too me and we can figure this out ok?? Please. 

A slow groan escapes me as the text dulls my buzz and my stomach churns and my eyes burn and I have to press the back of my hand to my mouth. As I reread it, unable to stop from torturing myself with his words, he sends a second text.

"What's wrong?" Arjun asks. I show him the phone. He reads the first message, and we read the second together.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: we were so good together. We have seven years of history. I know i messed up; i got scared and i got in over my head and i wasn't thinking but i love you and i wasn't thinking straight. I did an awful thing and i didnt realise how good i already had it and i fucked everything up but i just need the chance for you to listen to me. Please. I think we owe it to each other to talk.

I feel the blood drain from my face as the night catches up with me, regret and heartbreak refusing to mingle with vodka and Coke. It's too much and I think I actually will throw up. I trip to the bathroom and crash into the loo, weakly gripping the toilet bowl, but nothing comes up except a self-pitying sound.

Arjun's by my side in a flash. He can just about walk straight and he crouches down, throwing his arm around my shoulders. The contact throws us both off balance. He ends up on his arse on the tiles with my face crushed against his chest, his arm still around me. 

"You don't owe him a fucking thing," he says as we untangle ourselves. He leans against the bath; I lie on my side on the cold tiles. "He fucked you over and he broke your heart and your spirit, and you have the kind of spirit that should never be broken."

Arjun shifts closer to me and puts his hand on my head and he lets out a heavy sigh. "His excuses aren't good enough," he says. "Nobody accidentally cheats on an amazing, incredible, adorable guy for two years. He's a liar and he feels guilty, and you don't have to listen to him. Listen to me."

"Ok," I mumble. I sit up straight – it takes a lot of effort – and I face him. He takes my face in his hands, his fingertips brushing my hair and his thumbs caressing my cheeks and oh fuck.

"You are better than him," he says, his words slow and steady. "He did the most horrendous thing and you don't owe him a conversation or the chance to try to excuse himself. He owes you the space you deserve. If he didn't realise how good he had it with you after five years as your best friend, then he will never know."

I nod. His hands are warm, but not as hot as my cheeks. He can probably feel the heat radiating from my skin but he doesn't let go. His eyes penetrate mine until my nausea subsides and is replaced by tears. I well up as he stares into my soul and the moment he registers my tears, he drops his hands from my cheeks to my shoulders and he pulls me into a hug.

"Tell him to fuck off and block his number," Arjun says, his voice muffled by my hair. 

When he stands, he takes my hands and helps me to my feet and back to his bed. My phone is lying right in the middle, the screen still bright. He hasn't sent any more texts, and I don't ever want to see another message from him.

ME: stop texting me. I dont want to see you or tlka to you evber again. You fuckd it up toooo badly and im nevver giving you a second chance. I desrve better!! Ssomone who dosnt LIE and cheAT and treet me like stupid and shit. You broke my HEART And i DO NOT OWE YOU ANYTHING. Jst leave. Me. Alone. And. Fuck. Off. Please.

I send the text and as soon as it gets two blue ticks – he's seen it; he's read it – I blacklist his number.

"No more George," I say, like a promise. I hold out my hand, my little finger pointing at Arjun. He curls his finger around mine and sits next to me, our fingers still linked. The dip of the bed pushes us together.

"No more George," he says.

I let go of his hand and, with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands, I exhale as though I've been holding my breath all day. Arjun shifts next to me, then tentatively rubs my back.

"You'll feel better in the morning," he murmurs.

I feel better already.

*

double update today! this chapter was a fun one to write. There were a lot of directions I contemplated taking it in ... I hope you like how it turned out!