Dizzy

“Thanks. You, too.” I step up beside her, showing I want to be close to her, but waiting for her to give me some kind of clue she wants the same thing. Even though according to Paul she’s here for me, he’s been known to get his lines crossed from time to time, and I don’t want to assume anything.

Chastity steps closer, nudging my arm with hers. Her mouth is next to my ear, so close I feel her breath. “Thanks for inviting me. It’s good to see you.”

Paul did not cross his lines tonight. He had it dead on. Before I know it, my cup is full again, and I have my arm draped over Chastity’s shoulder. Paul’s doing what he does best, which is perform, making fun of this dance he saw, and we’re all laughing at him. All the thoughts from earlier are so gone from my head now. I’ve let them all find their way to the back of my brain to think about another day.

All of a sudden, Paul slips mid-dance in some beer on the floor. My head drops back, and I bust up when he almost falls. When my eyes are forward again, I see her. I’m going to blame it fully on the alcohol, because what else can it be—but I suddenly get a little dizzy. My breath speeds up. She has long, blonde hair. Not super blonde, kind of a dark blonde, and big green eyes. She’s curvy, and I can’t help but stare. I don’t know who this girl is, but she’s freaking gorgeous in a totally natural way.

She takes a step and then another one, heading our way. And she’s scowling at me. Maybe not at me in particular, but at the whole scene. She’s mastered what I like to call The Look. It’s when girls crinkle their nose, tighten their mouths and raise their eyebrows in a holier than thou way. I’m not even sure they know they do it, but every. Single. Girl. I’ve ever met has The Look in her arsenal.

It shouldn’t look good on her, but even through the scowl she’s hot. She keeps walking forward, and soon she’s standing in front of us, arms crossed and giving me The Look face to face.

Forget that I’m standing next to the beer. Forget that the door to outside is right next to us. For some reason, I feel like she came over here for me. And according to “the look,” she hates me. I will some witty comment to come out of my mouth. I’m usually good in a clinch. I can pull a comeback or a sarcastic comment out of thin air. Right now, I have nothing.

All I can say is, “What?”

Two

~Ziah~

What?

How do I even answer that question?

He’s standing with a plastic cup full of beer, and his arm draped around some girl. It’s such a possessive way to hold someone. Like, your body is pressed against me, making me feel all desirable, and I’m using you for an armrest. Nice.

He actually takes a drink while his arm is still resting on her shoulders, and while he’s still staring at me.

Wow, he has totally straight, white teeth. And nice hair. Touchable black hair—all messy, but still perfect. Then I let my eyes fall down. God. Of course. He probably spent more than two hundred dollars on his stupid jeans. It’s probably his dumb party. And his freaking mansion.

He’s still staring. I must be scowling.

The girl under his arm gives me a once-over and looks away. Right. I’m no competition ‘cause my jeans aren’t two sizes too small. Whatever.

“Someone said there were sodas over here? Fridge maybe?” I reach toward the handle.

“Don’t touch that.” He almost, almost lets go of the girl with the skin-tight jeans, but not quite. Where would he put his arm?

I hold my hands up.  “Fine, whatever.” Guess he’s anal about his fridge.

“On the porch,” he says from behind me.

I don’t look back—just wave to say thanks and head for the glass door.  When I step outside, I can finally breathe. It’s like as soon as I get into a huge group of people like this, I don’t know where to put my hands. These aren’t my people. My people are with my boyfriend, James, in a biology lab across town. Not in overpriced, over-tight jeans getting wasted.

“I can’t believe I got talked into this,” I say under my breath.

It’s just not my thing. It normally isn’t James’ thing either. He just heard about it from his cousin. Then my friend Alyssa got all excited, and they begged me to come. But is he here? Nope. Not yet. Oh. And also not answering my texts.

James and I have been dating for more than a year—since the begi

I stop and scan the porch for coolers. Oh, perfect. There’s a couple making out on the corner of the deck. Who thinks the back porch, even if it’s the size of a basketball court, is the perfect place to make out? I’m sure there are like twenty rooms to choose from upstairs.

When I find the thing, I step over and pull open the lid—thankful it’s not next to the desperate couple. Tequila, Vodka, Rum. Of course. Why am I here?

It’s a Halloween party that forbids costumes. Not that I’d really want to dress up, but who does that?  When I said that to James, he said it’s also a back-to-school party. So these people do Halloween with no costumes and back-to-school parties two months late? I’m pretty sure they’re psychotic.

I should be home studying. Senior year. It’s important. Senior grades are a big mark for university applications. My AP classes will actually be college credits. I don’t see how jumping around in someone’s house to good music—even though it’s being played way too loud—and getting hammered is a good way to celebrate us being in school, but whatever. James is coming, so that should make it worthwhile.

“Hey!” Alyssa jumps on my back as she comes outside. She already reeks like whatever she’s been drinking. We’ve only been here a half hour. Alyssa and I have been best friends for like, ever, but sometimes I just don’t get her. “Can you believe this place?”

Her bright blue eye-shadow looks amazing on her with her brown eyes and short, dark hair. I’m wearing mascara and lip-gloss. I feel all goopy when I put on more than that, and I have no idea what I’m doing and would probably just end up looking like some kind of street-walker, only in jeans and comfortable shoes.

She looks like she belongs here. I do not. This is not a white T-shirt and worn jeans kind of party. Too late now, and even if it wasn’t too late, I have no idea how to look like Alyssa or almost every other girl in this place.

“It’s pretty amazing.” I have to yell even though she’s right next to me. And amazing doesn’t even begin to cover this house. It’s unreal. Like, I can’t believe only one family lives here.

“Where’s your old man?” she yells.

She calls James my “old man” boyfriend for no real reason. Well, okay, for kind of a reason. He wears old man shoes to school with his jeans, and James and I are comfortable with each other. I don’t feel the need to suck his face off in public like the couple on the porch.

“His internship carried over from last summer, remember? And they went late.” I’m trying to be supportive and not mad that he didn’t drive me here like he promised. I had to drive my mom’s two-tone Subaru with the five-year-old color scheme, which Alyssa hates.

Anyway, Mom’s car has GPS. I still managed to get lost, still managed to be late, and James still isn’t here. My phone vibrates.

JAMES: ALMOST THERE.

My chest relaxes in relief.

“Okay, well, I’m headed back in. There’s like, practically an arcade in the basement. I’m going to go down and play pool.”

I point to her chest, which is already half out of her shirt.

She shrugs. “I’m wearing a bra. One more drink, and I won’t care what shows when I lean over the table.” She smirks and heads back inside.