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“Hmm?”
“I said you obviously don’t like beer, so what’s your drink?”
I shift from foot to foot and eye the several bottles of liquor lined up on the island, a small, tight-lipped smile on my face as I tell him, “Water.”
His brows crash in the center, but I’ve got to hand it to him, he sobers faster than I thought he would. “Okay. Water it is.”
He moves around me and grabs a bottle from the fridge, his back to all the people in here as he uncaps it and pours some out into a solo cup. I could drink it from the bottle, but I think he’s doing that so I can blend in with every other drunk college kid here. He knows something’s up, and he’s trying to help me avoid drawing any unwanted attention to myself. Or maybe I’m just desperate for someone to give a shit and I’m reading too much into things again.
Probably.
He hands me my drink, and I lean back against the counter as I lift it to my lips, moving my eyes over all the people bumping and grinding on each other throughout the house. It’s been a little while since I’ve been to a party like this, but it’s not all that different from the ones I used to go to back in high school as far as I can tell.
Alcohol. Drugs. Fucking. Bad decisions…
Nothing ever changes.
I spot at least a dozen couples tongue fucking each other, some making their way to the glass staircase in the corner. There’s a half-naked girl lying on the dining room table on her back, a few guys around her snorting lines of coke off her bare flesh. I clear my throat and tear my eyes away from the scene, already regretting my decision to come here. I rub my chest with my knuckles as the panic begins to rise, stealing my breath and blurring my vision.
Damn it, I shouldn’t be here.
I can’t be here.
I can’t, I can’t, I can’t—
“Hey.” Someone’s touching me. It’s Easton, his hand clutching my shoulder again as he bends to level with me. “Dude, are you good?”
“Yeah,” I breathe out, nodding, but then I’m shaking my head and backing away from him. “I just need some air. I’m gonna go outside for a sec.”
I think he says something else, but I don’t hear him as I turn around and all but stumble out the door. As soon as I’m out of there, I pull in a breath and let it out slowly. That helps, so I do it again, three more times until the mess inside my head starts to clear. I swallow some water and carry on walking, the loud music fading the further away I get from the source.
There are just as many people out here, if not more, but the groups are more spread out than they are inside, so it doesn’t feel as crowded. Nobody pays me any attention as I lean back against the side of the house and scrub my hands over my face. Taking out my cigarettes, I thumb the pack open and slide one out with my teeth, my head lowered as I search my pocket for my lighter.
Fuck it.
Just one won’t hurt.
I just need one fucking—
I feel more than see the glare on me the second I flick the lighter on, the flame hovering just a couple inches from the tip. Cutting my eyes up, I tense and release my finger, snatching the cigarette from my mouth before my arms fall to my sides.
Nate’s sitting on the other side of the yard, the neon blue lights from the pool shadowing his face and making his features look even darker. Frankie and the group of people with him are laughing and seem like they’re having a good time, but his stare doesn’t leave mine. Even when he knows I’ve caught him, he doesn’t react or look away.
He looks furious, and he has every right to be.
I’m not proud of the person he sees when he looks at me. The cocky, stupid little shit I was two years ago. That guy was reckless and selfish and all he cared about doing was partying and chasing the next high. I hate him just as much as Nate does. For corrupting Katy. For turning the town’s good girl into the horror story they all whisper about. For encouraging her, enabling her because it hurt less not to hurt alone.
It’s all his fault.
My fault.
Swallowing, I duck my head like the coward I am and go back inside to find Easton. He’s still standing in the kitchen in the same place I left him, surrounded by his friends and double the amount of girls who were here a minute ago. He sees me coming and takes the empty solo cup I’m holding, replacing it with a full one. “Don’t worry,” he says, leaning over sideways to shout over the music. “I made sure no one spiked it.”
“Thanks,” I mumble into the cup, not missing the eyes burning a hole into me.
Carter appears at my side then, drink in hand as he shamelessly checks out the good-looking guy standing a few feet away from us. The guy checks him out right back, and I shake my head with a barely-there smile. He makes it look so easy, being out. Carter might be an asshole, but I can’t deny I respect the way he’s happy to just be who he is. Nate’s never really advertised the fact that he likes to hook up with guys as well as girls—his dad wouldn’t allow it—but Carter genuinely couldn’t care less what his parents, his coach, or anyone else has to say about him. He’s always been that way.
“Having fun, Xav?”
