Guyaholic Read Online Free PDF

one last swig, stuffs the bottle back into the boot, and then pulls a pack of black Twizzlers out of her dresser, tearing off a strip for each of us.
    “Licorice?” I ask.
    “For the breath,” Rachel says. “My mom gets paranoid as soon as she smells mint.”
    On our way down the stairs, I feel light-headed and I stumble a little. I clutch my sandals in one hand and grab the banister with the other. As soon as we’re outside, I spot Sam by the pool. I breathe in some fresh air and force myself to walk a straight line toward him.
    “Licorice?” Sam asks as soon as we kiss. “Were you up in Rachel’s room?”
    I grin. “A little pre-game warm-up.”
    Sam is about to say something when Aunt #1 marches over and stands so close I can see the clogged pores rimming her nose.
    “Do you know how far it is from Boston to Berkeley?” she asks.
    “Huh?” Sam asks.
    “More than three thousand miles,” she says. “So how are you two going to stay together in the fall? I’m sure you’ve worked out a long-distance relationship plan, right?”
    Sam and I glance at each other. And then, at the exact same second, we turn to his aunt and say:
    Me: “We’re not really together.”
    Sam: “We’re talking about it.”
    Sam’s aunt’s mouth is hanging open so wide I can see the fillings in her teeth. But just as she begins to speak, Sam grabs my elbow and yanks me toward the edge of the yard.
    “Why did you just say that?” he asks as soon as we’re under the flowering white tree.
    “Say what?”
    Sam scowls. His cheeks are flushed and his face is strained, and, basically, I’ve never seen him look this angry.
    “You mean that we’re not together?” I ask.
    Sam nods.
    “It’s not exactly
un
true. Besides, who cares what she thinks? She’s just digging for gossip.”
    “I care,” Sam says.
    I watch as he clenches and unclenches his hands. The song playing on the laptop is this breathy ballad about a guy telling his girlfriend they fit together like puzzle pieces. We’re definitely listening to Sam’s playlist because on every one of his playlists, this song shows up.
    “I’m so sick of all these rules with you,” Sam says.
    I lean down and peel a blade of grass off my ankle. “What rules?”
    “
What rules?
We can’t hold hands in public. We can’t call each other boyfriend and girlfriend. We can’t talk about the fall. Seriously, what the hell do you think is going to happen when we go to college? Do you want to just keep on hanging out this summer and then forget everything when you go to Boston?”
    I have a feeling this is
not
the right time to tell him that, yes, that’s exactly what I was thinking would happen. Instead, I say, “Can we please not talk about the future right now?”
    “No, okay? I want to talk about it. I’m tired of you always saying what we can and can’t talk about. And while we’re at it, why don’t you tell me exactly what you think we are, because I’m curious.”
    “I don’t know what to . . .” I pause. If I had any buzz going on before, it’s completely over now. “We’re just having fun.”
    “I’m not having any fun,” Sam says as he brushes a flower petal off the keyboard.
    I reach over to touch Sam, but he jerks his arm away.
    “Can we talk about this later?” I ask. “Let’s get out of here, go to the party.” I glance into the backyard. “Where’re your sister and Janine?”
    “You’re not driving,” Sam says flatly.
    “What do you mean?”
    “Weren’t you drinking in Rachel’s room? I’ll drive your car and then just chill at the party.”
    “Whatever.” I reach into my bra for my key. “But it’s not like you’re my mom.”
    “As if she’d care,” Sam mutters.
    My entire body goes cold.
    “Fuck you,” I say, chucking my key onto the ground and storming toward my car.
    A few minutes later, as the four of us are heading down Hollybrook Lane, Sam and I still haven’t said a word to each other. I’m sitting in the passenger