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With that, I turn, and strut into my last class. I’m quite not sure what I’ve gotten myself into, but I have to admit, I like the feel of it. Maybe I should have done this kind of thing a lot sooner.
Chapter Six
ABBY
“This is insane,” Brooke says, joining me against the wall next to the kitchen to watch our whole class crammed into a single living room.
“Right?” I shake my head, my mind numbed by the blaring music and confusion of voices. “I feel like I’ve never seen this many people in my entire life.”
“That’s not what I mean.” A hard edge in Brooke’s voice cuts through the din, and I look to find her staring at me hard. “We made excuses to sneak away, made it here through a blinding rainstorm, and all you’ve done since we got here is hold up the wallpaper.That’sinsane.”
“I know,” I mumble, the nest of snakes in my stomach writhing even harder as I glance down into a rapidly warming red cup full of flat, crappy beer. “I just can’t seem to make a move.”
“Abby.” She nudges me so hard with her elbow that I slosh some beer onto an already damp carpet. “He’s right there!”
She points, and it’s all I can do to keep from snatching her arm down again.
“Iknow,” I breathe. “Don’t point, you’ll just draw attention.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, nobody’s looked at us once. I think we’re safe.”
“Well, in caseyouhaven’t noticed, Hunter has basically been in the eye of a hot-girl tornado since we walked in.” As if to punctuate my point, a massive crack of thunder rattles the house, and whooping shouts of excitement ring out as if the storm is encouraging the mayhem—making me wonder why the cops haven’t shown up yet.
“If you’re waiting for some kind of magical opening, where you can just stroll up and get to chit-chatting, you’re gonna be shit out of luck,” Brooke says. “Where’s the girl who straight up invited herself to the party? That’s the Abby we need right now.”
“Yeah,” I say, trying and failing to sound bold. “You’re right.”
I level my gaze at Hunter, and just the sight of him makes my knees weak. He’s dancing, and I’m honestly astonished at how natural it seems on him. But then, everything does.
One cheerleader hanging off of him would have been formidable enough, but Hunter has no less than three. They’re gyrating against him like they’re trying to start a fire, but somehow, he just seems above it all—and not because he’s a comfortable head taller than just about everybody else in the room.
His mouth is open in a broad, almost continual laugh, lighting up his face until it seems like he’s the only source of light in the world.
Before I know it, I’m maneuvering into the crush of bodies. There’s an end table beside the sofa, and I put down my virtually untouched beer and wipe my sweating palms over the top of my threadbare jeans.
It’s now or never, I tell myself.Just talk to him.
It’s already a billion degrees in this place thanks to the crowded, sweaty partiers grinding to the music, but that’s not what’s got me sweating. The closer I get to Hunter, the higher the fever in my heart climbs. It’s like my sweat is sweating, and I’m so lightheaded it feels like I could pass out any second. That could be because I was too nervous to eat anything before coming, but the prospect of trying to kiss Hunter would be enough to make me woozy under any circumstance.
As soon as I get within three feet of him, it’s like my skin bursts into flames. My mouth is completely dry, but I swallow hard anyway, hoping that will help somehow.
“Hey,” I say meekly, but he’s not looking my way. One of his bros across the room is shouting something at him, and Hunter lets out a laugh that rattles in my own chest and spurs me on.
“Hey,” I try again. In answer, one of the trio of harpies hanging off him whips her head around. It’s Samantha Berensen, and she sneers at me like she’s seen a cockroach.
“Fuck off,” she scowls. “Trash.”
Nobody has ever said anything like that to me before. I’d always imagined what folks must think about me behind my back, but the fact that she just came out and said it feels like a razor cut straight to my heart. All my resolve bleeds out on the carpet, and suddenly, I’m shoving my way to the edge of the room and away from Hunter.
The crowd thins out enough for me to hug the wall and clamber up the stairs. Every few steps reveals another couple making out against a wall, and I try to squeeze past them without interrupting and bringing more anger down on my head.
Someone is calling my name, but I can’t make myself look back. Instead, I fumble my way into the bathroom and lock the door behind me. I grip the edge of the sink and hunch over it, expecting to throw up, but instead, this miserable wail falls out of my mouth. Tears sting my eyes and patter onto the porcelain like raindrops. All I can do is hang on to keep from sinking to the floor and sob.
“Abby!” Brooke knocks on the door in a steady rhythm, calling to me. “Abby, let me in!”
Somehow, I pry myself away from the sink and unlock the door to let Brooke slide in.
“Fuck,” she says as soon as she sees me. “You look like shit.”
