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I wonder how Chase will ever get away with this—his house looks trashed before he even gets there. But then, who’s going to stop him? Not his mom, who died last summer. Not his dad, who’s probably grieving and happy to give his equally devastated son anything he wants.
Is this what Chase would choose, if the music died?
The football team arrives a few minutes later, whooping and dominating the atmosphere with pride. I’m swept off my feet into the massive arms of my somewhat-boyfriend. He picks me up over his shoulder and spins around, yelling and pumping his fist in the air. I let out an involuntary scream at being so high on his shoulder and so out of control with my feet off the floor, but he just laughs.
After a few minutes, he remembers I’m on his shoulder and tosses me on the couch and goes off with one of the other football players. Sometimes he doesn’t realize his own strength. I sit up, rubbing my shoulder where I landed. I don’t need him to hold my hand at these things anymore, as I’m familiar with pretty much everyone by now, so I’m not upset about him going off with friends.
I remember my ill-fated attempt at fitting in at Greg’s party, and the consequences of that night, and I’m relieved that I told Mom I wouldn’t be home tonight. If anything, this party is louder and wilder than Greg’s. I wander around, since I haven’t seen much of Chase’s house before.
In an enormous game room with a pool table, air hockey, foosball, and a shuffleboard, I find a hoard of people raiding the bar. Guys are pulling test tube shots from girls’ cleavage with their teeth, and Jessica is lying on the bar while several football players take body shots off her. Someone shoves a test tube at me, and I take the shot without paying much attention to it.
I force my way out of the room, as this seems to be the place everyone wants to be. On my way out, Todd grabs me by my shoulders, lifts me up, and plants a sloppy kiss on my mouth. He sets me down, and I duck away under his arm as he plows into the kitchen.
I fight through the crowd and find my way into another room. Lindsey’s brother sits slumped back on the couch with his arm in a cast and his jeans around his ankles while three girls kneel at his feet, worshipping his crotch. He tips his chin at me, his eyes cold as a snake’s, and I quickly back out of the room.
Music starts blaring from somewhere in the house, the vibrations shaking the floors. I’m crowded into a room where a guy is break-dancing while everyone stands around watching and clapping. I watch for a while, recognizing one of Greg’s friends joining the guy to add his own moves.
Someone is smoking right behind me, and I jump as a sharp stab of pain shoots through me when she touches her cigarette to my shoulder. As I push my way out of the room, someone shoves a tray of Jell-O shots at me. I take one, and someone else squirts a huge tower of whipped cream from a can into my shot. Suddenly Chase is beside me, grabbing the whipped cream and spraying it into the air.
Apparently he doesn’t care too much if his house gets trashed.
Everyone cheers. Chase grabs me around the waist and pulls me flush against him. Before I can recover from the jolt of raw electricity that shoots through my body at so much contact, he bends his head down and licks me from my collar bone to my ear. My head swims, and my body swoons into him, my eyes falling closed as a wave of pure, erotic bliss spreads through my limbs.
He nips my earlobe, and shivers explode through my body. Before I can recover, he lets me go and steps back, grinning like it’s all in good fun, all just a big joke. To anyone else, it probably looks like it is. There goes Chase, being outrageous and pushing boundaries, always the class clown, the shining star. It’s easy to forget he just lost his mother when he’s always laughing to show how little he cares, how little he feels.
But I know.
I know he’s protecting me with his laughter as much as he’s protecting himself. He knows how to play this game far better than I do. While I grip his shirt, not sure my knees will hold me, he’s laughing it up with his friends, who slap his back and give him shit about making me nearly faint in public. To them, I’m just another fangirl, and he laughs like he finds his effect on me as hilarious as they do.
He’s so convincing, I don’t know whether to believe it too. Maybe I’m nothing to him, no more important than any other girl in his crowd that he’d grab and lick at a party. Humiliation burns through me, making my face flush and tears threaten. They’re all laughing at me, at how easy I am to cave, like the stupid virgin I am.
Just as I turn away, he grabs me and pulls me back in. His lips brush my ear, his breath hot and urgent. “You taste delicious, Sky Blue.”
Then he squirts a huge mouthful of whipped cream into his mouth, shoves the can at someone, and is gone.
The attention goes with him, thank god.
I stand there for a minute, collecting myself. The whole thing happened so fast, it was over before I could think up a single thing to say. My neck feels cold and ticklish, still wet from his tongue. My body still tingles from the heat of his breath entering my ear, curling with warmth down to my toes. But Chase is gone, moving on to the next laugh, the next joke in the comedy routine of his life.
No wonder he left the party at the lake, walked down the shore alone. No wonder he needed a break. I don’t resent him for using me anymore. The further I’m absorbed into his world, the more I understand him—the expectations he was escaping, the pressures that broke him that night, the laughter that makes up each scream into the abyss.
I shake my head to clear my mind, take my Jell-O shot, and throw away the cup on my way outside. Two guys are doing keg stands at the two kegs in the back yard, while a crowd of guys and a few girls chant and cheer them on. Two guys are standing near the bushes, one of them puking and the other peeing.
A football flies past my head, missing by inches, and I cling to the doorframe as I’m nearly bowled over by three guys chasing after it. I spot Elaine standing by the fence, a diet soda in her hand, talking to Lindsey. I make my way over, relieved to see faces from my inner circle.
“What happened to you?” Elaine asks, looking at me scornfully. “You’ve got whipped cream in your hair.”
I realize I did feel a decent sized shower of it when Chase sprayed it in the air, but I got distracted and forgot about it. I try to wipe it out as the two girls watch me.
Elaine scoffs. “Just rub it around some more. That’ll help.”
“Here, let me,” Lindsey says, giving me a sympathetic smile.
Just then someone shoves more shots at us. Grateful for the distraction from my hair, I take one. Lindsey grabs one too, but Elaine makes a face and shakes her head.
“You should try being sober for once,” she says. “It’s amazing how much you see that everyone else misses when you’re the only one not intoxicated.”
A shiver makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I wonder if she saw the whole neck-licking incident. As far as I can tell, Daria notices a whole lot more than anyone else, and she’s far from sober at these parties.
