“I thought the eBoy look wasn’t supposed to leave the bedroom?” I query back, like I actually care. I'm just … surprised? Most of the time, when I see Chasm, he’s wearing his school uniform or well, almost nothing at all. Shirtless and barefoot, just like Parrish. Now that I’ve gotten a second glimpse of his style, I actually like him more. Which isn’t a lot at all anyway.
“Aww, cute,” Chasm says, smiling sharply at me. He gestures in the direction of a large firepit with his beer and then tilts his head the same way. “Want to get plastered and hang out? You can tell me all about how much you hate it here.”
I shrug my shoulders and tuck my hands into the front pocket of my hoodie, clutching my phone for comfort. I am so far outside my element here. I mean miles. I mean leagues. Light years. Legions.
“Why the fuck not?” I strut across the grass like I own the place while people stop dancing or talking to turn and look at me. Some of them look actively perplexed, like they can’t figure out if I’m the most mockable human being they’ve ever seen or the most interesting.
Please give me the latter, I beg you! I call out, looking up into the stars for comfort. I’ve got this. I’ve fucking got this.
I squat down beside the cooler and extract a bottle of … I look at the label. Jägermeister?
“You drink hard alcohol?” Chasm asks, pausing beside me and tilting his head to one side. He even manages to lift a single eyebrow in mocking query. Ah there it is, NOW you sound intelligent—in your own head. Congrats on that, by the way. “Excuse me for saying this: but it looks like you couldn’t handle the dregs of a wine cooler.”
I unscrew the bottle’s top and then lift it to my lips for a swig.
The taste of black licorice hits the back of my throat, nearly making me gag, and that’s before the acrid burn of the booze really starts to singe my throat. Still, I’m not about to be mocked by a guy with a lightning bolt dyed into his hair. No freaking way.
I almost choke—but then almost is the key word. I manage to swallow the alcohol, dropping the bottle from my lips and giving Chasm what I hope is a don’t fuck with me sort of look. However it comes across, he throws his head back and laughs at me, the sound cold and cruel.
He’s sharp, this one. Razor-fucking-sharp. I wouldn’t bother with Chasm at all if he weren’t Parrish’s near-constant companion. Seems to fancy himself the dark knight to Parrish’s indolent prince routine.
“You look like you want to puke, to be honest,” he drawls, turning his head just slightly to look at me. He doesn’t seem unappreciative of the fact that I just chugged, like, five shots of hard liquor in one gulp though.
“Where did Parrish run off to?” I ask without even meaning to. Chasm gives me a look.
“You have a thing for your brother, Little Sister? That's seriously messed up.” He stands up straight, finishes his beer, and then chucks it into the grass. I narrow my eyes in irritation but Chasm either doesn't notice or pretends not to, reaching out to take the Jäger bottle from my hand. “He's probably off banging Lumen in an upstairs suite.” He snaps the last word off the end of his tongue, like he’s mildly annoyed about something and then takes a swig.
Talk about broody.
Chasm McKenna is the very definition.
My stomach churns as I glance away from his stormy expression, this sudden, irritational surge of irritation flowing through me. Upstairs banging Lumen? I think, clenching my jaw. Seriously?
“You know, blatant misogyny hasn’t been sexy for two generations. Get it together, McKenna.” I steal the bottle back from him and down another two shots worth. Or, at least I think it was two shots worth. I’m actually not super-duper familiar with what, exactly, a shot constitutes. I am not a fun or interesting sixteen-year-old. Frankly, I would accept an AARP card tomorrow.
“How is that misogynistic?” Chas asks, throwing his arm around some random brunette as she snuggles her bikini-clad body against his side and giggles. My mouth twitches in annoyance, but not at her—at Chas. He had Lumen in his car earlier today, spent all of this morning blabbing about a completely different girl, and now … who even is this? “I'm not a misogynist at all. In fact,” he looks back at me and smiles, “I'm a feminist. I helped organize last year’s International Women’s Day parade.”
And with that, Chas steals the bottle back from me and takes off just long enough for me to realize that the girl was in a bikini so … pool? I follow the flickering light of the firepit to a row of hedges. Moving forward, I come around the side of them to see that not only am I not dressed right for the dancing-grinding-drinking portion of the party, I've also come sans-swimsuit.
“Hey!” Danyella calls out, dressed in a white bikini and waving around a bright-blue drink with an umbrella and a straw that most definitely did not just come from a cooler. I glance past her, across the lit surface of the pool, and over to where a bartender is mixing drinks.
A bartender.
At a high school party.
Right.
Okay.
I can so do this.
I turn back to Danyella and smile.
“Hey.” I give a weak wave and take a step forward, realizing already that my head is beginning to spin. Uh-oh. Not good. Not good at all.
“I didn't think you were coming,” Danyella replies, offering up her drink. My vision swims a bit as I look at it, but I manage to drag my gaze to her face. Somehow, someway. But I can definitely feel the uh, ‘only ever had alcohol three times in my life’ syndrome coming on. “I mean, I was hoping you would.”
“I figured it was better to be here than at Tess’ house,” I reply, when it occurs to me that—despite our similar love for creative endeavors—we are not friends at all yet. Just strangers. And already I’m dumping my shit on her. I wouldn’t be surprised if Danyella ran for the hills. Didn’t Maxx just tell me they were all rich assholes?
“Are you okay?” she asks me, sounding genuinely concerned as she sets her blue drink aside.
The last thing I want to be tonight is a burden, so I force my mouth into a smile. Oh, there it is. Guess I’m not entirely out of them. Each one just costs me a little bit more than the last.
“Actually, I’m good,” I say, letting my hands bury themselves in the sleeves of my hoodie as I cross my arms and take a step back. I give a slight bend of my knees, like I’m bowing out or squatting or something. “I’m just gonna look around. This is an …” I laugh. “An interesting house, for sure.”
Danyella picks her drink back up and shrugs.
“Well, if you get bored around the rich yuppies in there, come and find me. I’ll be here, suffering. Tremendously.” She shifts her gaze over to the writhing horde of teens in the pool. Was I somehow concerned about not having a bathing suit? Jesus, Chasm was right: I’m still twelve and pool parties are fun. Looking down at the pool water, I wonder how contaminated with lusty, sweaty teenage hormones it must be to change color.
“Deal.”
I spin on my heel and start powerwalking for the house.
I'm going to vomit.
No doubt about that.
On my way inside, I run into Parrish. With Lumen. They don’t look like they’ve just had sex though, more like they just … broke up? Or maybe were never together in the first place.