Attachments by Rainbow Rowell Page B

said. “I’d pay a cover charge at a singles garden.”
    “That sounds like something they’d have at my mom’s church.” She went back to digging in her friend’s purse. “I think if I met a guy, you know, that guy, I wouldn’t care where I was or what he smelled like. I’d just be, like, happy  …
    “Look,” she said, standing up, “it was nice to meet you. I’m going to try to find a light.”
    “Oh …um, right …” He started to stand, knocked his head against a neon Bud Light sign and sat back down. “It was nice to meet you, too,” he said.
    He felt like apologizing again, but didn’t.
    And he didn’t watch her walk away.

    LINCOLN WAS STILL sitting at the table an hour later when Justin came back. “Dude, I need a favor. I’m too fucked-up to drive. Can you take my truck home?”
    “Um, I’m not sure if …”
    “Linc, for real”—Justin set his keys on the table—“I’m going home with Dena.”
    “But what about those other guys, your brother …”
    “I think they’re gone.”
    “What?”
    “I’ll pick up the truck tomorrow. Leave the keys under the mat and lock the doors.”
    “I really don’t think …” Lincoln picked up the keys and tried to hand them back to Justin. But Justin was already gone.

    EVE WAS SITTING at the kitchen table when Lincoln came downstairs the next afternoon. He’d spent the night in one of Justin’s backseats, then driven home sometime after dawn. His neck still felt like it was folded over an armrest, and his mouth tasted like licorice and sour meat. “What are you doing here?” he asked his sister.
    “Well, good morning, sunshine. I brought the boys over to play with Mom.”
    He looked around the kitchen, then settled heavily into the chair next to his sister.
    “They’re in the backyard, building a fort,” she said. “There are egg rolls on the stove. And fried rice, are you hungry?”
    Lincoln nodded, but didn’t move. He was already thinking about all the things he was going to do when he had the energy to stand up again. Like, go back to bed. That was the first thing.
    “Geez,” his sister said, getting up to make him a plate. “You must have had some night.”
    Standing at the stove, stirring the rice, Eve looked like a younger version of their mother—an older younger version. At thirty-six, Eve looked like their mother at forty-five. “Being responsible gives you wrinkles,” his sister would say when their mother wasn’t around. “Doesn’t Eve look tired?” his mother would say, whether Eve was around or not.
    “Mom says you didn’t come home until seven,” Eve said, handing him a plate. “She’s livid, by the way.”
    “Why is she livid?”
    “Because you didn’t call. Because she stayed up half the night waiting for you.”
    Lincoln took a bite and waited to see whether his stomach had forgiven him yet. “What’s in these egg rolls?” he asked.
    “Goat cheese, I think, and maybe salmon.”
    “They’re really good.”
    “I know,” she said, “I ate four. Now, stop stalling, and tell me where you were all night.”
    “I went to a bar with Justin.”
    “Did you meet anyone?”
    “Strictly speaking?” he said with his mouth full. “Yes.”
    “Were you with a girl last night?”
    “No. I was asleep and drunk in the back of Justin’s truck. Is there still a yellow SUV in the driveway?”
    “No.” Eve looked disappointed.
    “Why are you looking at me like that?” Lincoln was feeling better already. Maybe he’d even take a shower before he went back to bed. “Would you really rather hear that I’d spent the night having premarital sex with a girl I’d just met at The Steel Guitar?”
    “You went to a country bar?”
    “It’s only country on Thursday nights.”
    “Oh. Well.” Eve took one of his egg rolls. “You could have stayed up all night talking to a girl you’d met at The Steel Guitar. I would love to hear that.”
    “Okay,” he said, getting up for more, “next time,