AllFreeNovel
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“Why haven’t you changed yet?” asks Prisha, who has purposely shrunken all her XS sweatshirts into cropped sweatshirts.
“What I have on is fine,” argues Tracey, poking out her lips. She has on no makeup, and her hair is pulled back into a bright blue scrunchie.
Prisha eyes Tracey as if she passed gas loudly. “You look like a pumpkin. You cannot wear that. Where is your blue sweatshirt that comes off your shoulders?”
“It’s freezing out there,” argues Tracey, her drawl becoming more pronounced. “Plus, it’s a long walk.”
Prisha eyes Wren, and then Wren turns on Tracey like a hungry lioness determined to protect her young. “Then put it on under thisthingand then hide thisthingunder the porch before you go inside.” Wren now backs up Prisha. “And take that stupid scrunchie out of your hair.”
Tracey scowls at her flushed face reflected in the mirror. I wait to see if she’ll cave, and a part of me hopes she won’t. If she tells them no, then I’ll take her side. I’d rather stay here than find a place to hide at that awful party. If I had known Wren would be like this, I would have smacked her down on our first day here.
But Tracey reaches up and yanks the scrunchie out of her hair, taking our stand with it.
“Good,” Prisha smiles at her victory. “We’ll wait while you change.” She casts her eyes over me quickly and frowns. “Charlotte, is that what you’re going to wear?”
I hold in a sigh and wonder if I should even fight it. What would happen if I admitted that I didn’t want to go? If I let them know I’m not like them anymore. I don’t have the clothes, the money, or the hangers-on that they’ve acquired. What if I accepted what I really am?
I nod. “I have a new sweater I can wear.”
Wren and Prisha exchange a look in the mirror. Maybe I haven’t been concealing my lack of funds as well as I thought.
Wren squeals. “Well, go get it and put it on.” She looks down. “Do you have some other jeans you can wear?”
I nod and leave the bathroom to change into my new outfit. I bought a silvery sweater and a pair of shredded jeans with the money that came into my account from my channel. That video had the highest views I’ve ever received. Over 2.5K. And also the most comments, begging to see more of the same.
The next time I saw Asher, he offered to share his anthology book with me, and I was able to tell him no. He can’t own me.
Tracey and I meet with Wren and Prisha’s approval as we waited by the school gates for an Uber. Tracey looks annoyed as we climb into the warm car, and we sit side by side. I don’t know why, but I slip my hand between us and give hers a squeeze. Tracey glances over, and we share an understanding.
The party is larger than expected as a crowd of college students spills out of the house and onto the street. The Uber can’t even pull up to the house, so we get out and walk into the crowd. Tracey and I stick together, but Wren and Prisha take off, hurrying over to some girls they must know, judging by the screams and hugs.
“How long should we stay?” Tracey asks.
I flatten my lips, looking around the crowd. “No one would notice if we left now.”
She shrugs. “Well, let’s get a beer first and then maybe hang out a little.” The music floats over the crowd, and at least the DJ is playing some cool music. It’s early, so no one’s disgusting drunk, and most of the crowd is busy talking. No one is making a fool of themselves. Not yet.
Tracey and I make our way to the backyard, and it is easier to get into the house from there. The kitchen is filled with people, and I can’t help but glance over at the kitchen counter, wondering if Asher is here. Tracey hands me a bottle, and I look around, not recognizing anyone. I take a tentative sip and then tug on her elbow, nodding over at the door.
“We can drink it outside.”
“Ladies, you can’t be going yet.” A guy steps in front of the door and blocks us in. He might be a brother, judging by his Greek T-shirt. And he’s not bad-looking—tall with light brown hair that’s cut super short, but his pupils are dilated, and he’s too grabby. He clutches Tracey and then my arm and pulls us into his sides.
“Don’t drink and leave.” His stare pierces my eyes. “You look familiar.”
Jesus. I want him off me. Since I put up the new content, I’ve been paranoid, but it’s impossible to recognize me. But yesterday, I got another message sent to my email, commenting on my performance and asking if they could be the next one to join me in bed.
I try to push his arm off my shoulder, but his heavy muscles won’t budge. “Do you mind? You’re sweaty.”
He takes it as a joke as he pulls me in tighter. Tracey struggles to get him off her and somehow manages to break free. She tries to yank his arm off me, but we cannot budge him, not even together. He walks me backward until my bottom is pressed against the counter. His body dwarfs mine, and suddenly my throat tightens as the panic begins. I shouldn’t have come here.
“Get off her!” shouts Tracey, beating his arm with her hand.
He turns and grabs her wrist, pulling her against the counter, and somehow we’re both trapped.
His stank breath hits me in the nose. “Give me a kiss, and I’ll let you go.”
I swallow hard and then look at Tracey, whose eyes are bugging. She shakes her head, and the guy’s smirk morphs into a scowl.
