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It felt good.
But scary.
I brushed away any remaining tears when we got in sight of Rickets’ House, and there was no Veronica Teedz wasn’t there to welcome us like last time.
Thank God.
There were quite a few people, but none I recognized.
As we entered the house, I tried to loosen my fingers, but Tray simply tightened his grasp so our hands stayed intertwined.
Like before, Tray led the way into the kitchen. He purchased two cups and passed one to me. Then we moved back through. This time I didn’t need to separate; I wasn’t there for business. So I got to see how many people knew Tray.
Which was a lot. An annoying amount, because he couldn’t take two steps without someone rushing over to talk to him or pounding him on the shoulder.
It was fricking irritating.
By the twelfth person—yes—twelve!—I pulled away and remarked, “I’m going to go look for Mandy.” I hope to hell no more ‘Devon’s-cheating-on-me’ drama would come up tonight. It shouldn’t, the guy wasn’t even in the same region as us, but you never know. It’s one of the exasperating powers of technology. It didn’t limit drama to your location, drama and chaos was widespread.
I don’t think Tray even noticed that I’d left. Whatever.
I moved through the first floor, down the hallway, heading towards the patio area. As I weaved around a group leaving, I saw that Crystal, Mandy, and most of the group had taken residence on the patio. I recognized a few students from Pedlam on the opposite corner, but no Gentley and more importantly, no Grayley; therefore, no Brian. At this rate, I didn’t know who I wanted to see least—Grayley or Brian. It was a sad day in hell that I’d take being around Gentley over the other two.
A sad day in hell.
“Hey, Taryn,” Mandy called out, sitting next to Tristan, who had Erin on the other side of her. Tristan took time out of a conversation with Brent Garrett—Amber’s staked claim—to send a smile my way.
Erin waved, then flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder and tuned back into Tristan’s conversation.
Crystal stood in the back, in a corner with Aidrian Casners and one other girl—probably another senior.
Aidrian glared at me, but it didn’t hold the animosity from before. She was probably still waiting to see if I’d come through with the tickets.
Crystal sent a smile my way, her eyes questioning.
I shrugged and sat beside Mandy.
“Were you guys having sex? Is that why it took you so freaking long to get in here?” Mandy teased, flashing a blinding smile.
“Not exactly,” I murmured, stifling a yawn. Seriously—emotional upheaval really took it out of you. You’re supposed to sleep after a crying fit. Not party. It’s why the phrase says, ‘cried myself to
sleep.’ Not ‘cried myself to hang out with drunks.’
I’ve learned that I’m not good at small talk. So that’s why I sat quietly, beside Mandy as she joined in periodically with Tristan’s conversation. Note that I called it Tristan’s conversation, because it literally was. Brent had his hand on her thigh and he was listening to Tristan. Not Mandy. Not Erin. But neither seemed to care. Tristan would laugh at whatever they said, but she’d turn right back to the basketball player.
This went on for twenty minutes, then I got bored.
Something—maybe the bitch inside of me—was compelled to ask loudly, “Hey, Aidrian.”
It was deathly silent.
Aidrian turned her glaring eyes my way, and waited.
“Didn’t Amber Lancaster go off on you last week? Something about wearing her skirt? I saw at least two girls wearing my shirt tonight. What kind of psycho does that?”
Mandy sucked in her breath, staring at me in horror. She knew exactly what I had just done. I knew it really wasn’t the skirt Amber had been pissed about. It had been over Brent Garrett—the guy who was now salivating all over Tristan.
Her eyes narrowed and Aidrian replied, “A bitch like that does. And it was my skirt.” But her eyes had switched to Brent. Everyone heard what wasn’t said: ‘it was my guy’
