“Let’s take a couple of photos before we go. We must document this moment,” Sylvie suggests.
We pose in her room in front of the mirror. Sweet and innocent at first, with beaming smiles and wide eyes. Then we turn things raunchy and wicked. Hands on our hips, chests thrust forward with our tongues out. I help Sylvie put her wings on and take a photo of her standing with her legs braced and her arms crossed in front of her, the wings rising behind her. She looks amazing.
It’s fun, spending time with Sylvie. She helps me forget all my troubles—and so does the vodka. She can’t stop laughing, and I get caught up in her happiness. I’ve been mopey since Whit and I called it off, but tonight, I’m on top of the world. I’m going to strut into that party and he’s going to swallow his tongue when he looks at me.
I just know it.
When we’re finally done taking photos and she posts a few of them on social media, we go outside and climb into the golf cart. Sylvie drives it like a mad woman, constantly going off the trail and laughing uncontrollably. The day started off gloomy, with gray skies and a constant drizzle, but it stopped just after lunch. The air is chilled and the ground is still wet, but at least it’s not raining.
We arrive at the ruins to find the party already in full swing. People are everywhere. Standing outside, surrounding the old building. Sitting on the steps. Almost every single one of them clutches a beer can or a red solo cup. Loud music comes from inside, and so many people are crowded in there, all I see are bodies. Moving against each other as they dance. Clustered in tight circles as they talk. Almost everyone’s in costume, many of them wearing masks, and I barely recognize a soul.
“The party has arrived, bitches!” Sylvie screams when she pulls up directly in front of the steps, throwing her arms up after she locks the cart’s brakes with one push of her foot.
A boy dressed all in black, including a cape, pulls away from the crowd near the steps, and I realize it’s Spencer. His face is ghostly white, little strips of fake blood dripping from the corners of his lips. He smiles when he sees Sylvie, revealing his vampire teeth.
“Looking fine as hell tonight, Sylvie.”
“Why thank you, prince of darkness.” She hops out of the golf cart and runs up to him, patting Spencer’s chest as she smiles up at him. She glances at me from over her shoulder. “Check out Summer.”
His gaze shifts to me and his eyes widen as I carefully climb out of the golf cart. “Uh, holy shit.”
“Is it too much?” I ask as I approach them, resting my hands on my hips and stopping to pose.
His gaze is everywhere, as if he doesn’t know where to look first. “Does Whit know about this?”
Irritation simmers in my veins and I push past Spencer, shoulder checking him. “Fuck Whit Lancaster. I don’t care what he thinks.”
I leave Sylvie and Spencer behind, marching up the rickety steps and into the building with my head held high. People stare as I walk past, launching into furious whispers once I’m past them, and for the quickest moment, I second-guess my costume choice.
A group of girls sneer at me when I approach. One of them coughs into her hand, “Slut.”
I send her a death glare but she only laughs.
A makeshift bar is set-up in the closest corner of the room and I go to it, grabbing the already poured glass and shooting it. The alcohol burns as it slides down my throat, making me wince and I grab another one, drinking it in one swallow as well.
There. More liquid courage should help. My brain is already swimming. Doesn’t help that I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.
“Hey, sexy.”
I jerk away from the hand that tries to settle on my hip, turning to find a boy from my English class smiling at me. I try to remember his name, racking my brain as I study him. He’s wearing all black too, but that’s it. As in, he’s not really dressed up at all. He’s watching me with dark heated eyes, his thick hair falling over his forehead. He’s not a bad looking guy, but he’s staring at me as if he can already imagine me naked.
He probably can, considering how skimpy my costume is.
“It’s Bryan,” he offers when I still haven’t said his name, glancing over at the bar nearby. “How much have you had to drink?”
“I just got here,” I answer with a smile.
“It’s my lucky night then,” he says, his gaze snagging on my chest. “Why haven’t I noticed you before? You’re new here, right?”
Of course, he fully expects me to know who he is, yet he doesn’t know who I am. Whatever. These boys are all the same.
“Yes,” I say truthfully. “Brand, spanking new.”
“I like, I like.” His hand goes to my hip again, and this time, I don’t pull away. I like his attention. At least he’s not shunning me or calling me names. “Tell me, Miss Brand Spanking New, do you have a name?”
“Summer.” I reach around him and grab yet another drink, sipping from it this time. Every pour in these cups is strong, not diluted by much and the alcohol is going straight to my head. I’ve always been a lightweight. “Like the season.”
“The season where we’re half-naked most of the time because it’s so hot?” His gaze rakes over my body. “I get it.”
Laughter escapes me, and I smother it by taking another drink. “You know who I am. I’m sure Whit told you.”
“Whit Lancaster?” He raises his brows. “I hate that fucker. Thinks he owns the world.”
“Right?” I laugh, loving that he hates Whit. We could form a club. “I mean, he does own this school.”
“His parents do,” Bryan amends with a sly smile. “Big difference.”
“He didn’t try to get you to snub me?” I ask him point blank.
His expression doesn’t change a bit at my words. “Right. You’re that girl. Why the hell would I snub you? Look at you.”
His appraising tone makes me grow warm inside.
The music changes up, a fast song that was popular a few months ago starts playing and I smile at Bryan. “Let’s dance.”
Without waiting for his reply, I drop the cup on the table and take his hand. He follows me into the throng of people, until we’re in the dead center. I start moving, the alcohol loosening my muscles, making me feel free. He barely moves. Just stands there and watches me as I sway from side to side, raising my arms above my head as the beat consumes me.
“Fuck,” I hear him breathe, which makes me laugh. All these girls at Lancaster are a bunch of stuck-up prudes. We’re almost eighteen. Shouldn’t we be free to do whatever we want? To dress skimpily and have fun without repercussion?
Having male approval is something I crave, I realize as I see the way Bryan stares at me. My daddy never gave it to me. Jonas’ attention was fleeting. Yates was annoying and even scary, yet I still wanted it.
And then there’s Whit. His disapproval was a turn-on. His approval, necessary.
God, I’m so fucked in the head. Why would anyone want to deal with me? Be with me? Be my friend?
I dance and dance, letting myself get lost in the beat of the music. Other bodies brush against mine and I smile at them. They smile at me in return if they’re male, and scowl at me if they’re female, their gazes full of hatred.