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“Are you at the stadium?” I didn’t care how frantic or desperate I sounded.
I whipped my car around and headed for the college before she answered. That’s where she had to be. Tonight was a big game, then there was an afterparty on Greek Row. That’s where she has to be.
“No,” she muttered. “House.”
Greek Row.
“Are you hurt?” I didn’t want to ask, but I had to know. I pressed my foot harder on the pedal, buildings, cars, and trees a blur around me. “Talk to me, little fawn. Did anyone hurt you?”
“N—no.” It didn’t sound like she was sure of that, though. “I don’t wanna be here anymore.” Her voice broke on the last word, and the sound shot straight through my chest.
“I’m almost there, baby. Just stay with me. Can you tell me what house you’re at?”
I rounded the corner, heading for Greek Row, but only saw a sea of students outside every house. They were on lawns and in the street, all laughing and cheering, and obviously fucked out of their minds.
Pulling over, I parked and shoved the door open, my phone still pressed to my ear. I towered over most of the students, which made it easier to search for Winnie.
“Baby, tell me where you are,” I urged desperately. “Are you outside?”
“Outside,” she confirmed drearily.
“What color is the house?” I shoved my way through the crowd, my head swiveling back and forth as I searched for her.
“Uhh…” The grip on my phone tightened. Why was she drunk? Why was she here? “Yellow.”
I frantically searched for a yellow house, my phone still pressed to my ear. The world swirled around me in a mix of bright flashing lights and loud screaming, but all I could focus on was finding her.
People shoved into me, knocking me with their shoulders as they stumbled past, cups of pungent alcohol clutched in their shaky grips. My heart raced, and sweat broke out along my forehead.
Where was she?
Fear clawed its way up my throat. What if something had happened to her tonight? I should’ve gone to her house sooner. I should’ve checked in with her. I shouldn’t have let her go so easily.
I scanned the overcrowded street again, and a relieved breath left me as I spotted a yellow house at the end of the street. Without a second thought, I sprinted toward it, ignoring the shouts from students as I soared past them, knocking some of them to the ground.
There was a thicker crowd of people as I grew closer to the house. “Winnie,” I panted into the phone. “Where are you?” No answer. Nothing but a faint, slurred mumble.
Frantically, I looked at every face in the sea around me. My phone was slick against my sweat-dampened palm, and I readjusted my grip, still desperately searching for her.
As I approached the yellow house, sweat clinging to every inch of my body, my heart sank. There was no sign of Winnie anywhere. The front door was open, and people flowed in and out, bright lights and loud music pouring out from inside. I hesitated for a moment, looking back down the street. Was this even the right house?
“Are you sure you’re outside?” I asked, rubbing my palm over my jaw.
“Please come get it,” she cried, but I heard her voice doubled. On the phone, and in real life. I spun in a circle again, my heart rate skyrocketing. I had to find her.
I paused, looking at the porch again. I squinted past the blinding lights and stood my ground as more people pushed past me. But there she was, curled in a ball in the corner of the porch, near a few chairs. Her phone was pressed to her cheek, but she was doubled over, totally closed in on herself, her head in her lap. Then I heard it—she was crying.
I shoved my phone in my pocket as I rushed toward her. The thick smell of alcohol and weed hit me like a wall when I fell to my knees in front of her, the mixture of scents making my eyes water.
But none of that mattered as I stared at her, hesitating before reaching out and resting my hands on her thighs. Her head lifted, but it was like it was too heavy for her to hold up, and she toppled to the side.
“Whoa, you’re okay. I’m here. You’re okay.”
Her big doe-eyes were red-rimmed and wet, and mascara was streaked down her blotchy cheeks. There was lipstick smeared around her mouth, and her hair was mussed. What happened?
“I’m here,” I said again, searching her unfocused gaze.
“Emmett?”
