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Back The Infinite Noise Save as PDF
Chapters (70)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  69. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  70. Newsletter Sign-up

This has happened a few times before at football parties. When I’m around people who are drinking, I start to feel drunk too. It doesn’t matter if I haven’t had a drop of alcohol (I did once and, let me tell you, what a disaster), I can’t be around drunk people or things start to get fuzzy. Usually it’s a combination of feeling frantic and also relaxed—like I could punch through a wall and not feel anything, or say exactly what I want to. This isn’t like that. This is softer, more passive, and that’s all I’ve got because things are getting swirlier and swirlier.

Oh Jesus, I’m getting adult drunk.

“Caleb,” someone says, “are you all right?”

I blink slowly to see that three-pronged stare again. You can do this, dude. Just make up an excuse and leave.

“Um, yeah.” I’m speaking slowly, taking care to not slur. “Just a sugar crash, I think. I should—uh, I should go.” I stand carefully, getting an instant head rush. I grip the back of my chair, praying to whoever will listen that I don’t fall over.

“Oh,” Adam says, his disappointment cutting through the haze and sobering me slightly. “Okay. I’ll walk you out.”

Good-byes happen and all I can hope is that I don’t make a complete and total ass of myself. Somehow I make it outside okay, holding on to Adam’s mix of confusion, contentment, and worry like a terrible life raft. The clear air and distance from the Hayeses does wonders for my head, and I breathe deep before checking in on Adam.

He’s looking up at me, eyebrows creased, mouth slightly downturned. His emotions are a swirl of blue and warm gold and I’m trying to sort through them when he speaks.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.” I shrug. Adam’s mouth tightens and I want to correct it. “I’m good,” I pivot. “Really. Tonight was really nice, thanks. I mean, happy birthday.” I’m floundering, still sobering up and wincing at the confusion coming in waves from Adam.

“I’m sorry I’m so weird all the time,” I finish lamely. Adam shakes his head at me like I’m being an idiot. Which … fair.

“You just had dinner with my parents,” he says. “I don’t think we can judge about being weird.”

“Your parents aren’t weird,” I say honestly, but Adam looks at me skeptically. “They’re … intense.”

“That’s one word for it,” he scoffs.