Lucky Me

by Saba Kapur

  “My b. I thought you were my girl!” the guy said loudly, so that I could hear him over the music and drunken cheers.

  His B? I looked at Jack, who was still smiling at me. He nodded at me, giving me a look that said go for it. Great. I was being groped by some creep who had his hands all over my extremely expensive outfit, and it was all happening in front of Jack’s eyes. By the looks of it, the night was on the right track to crashing and burning.

  “We have to go,” I declared. “But I’ll take that.”

  I reached over and grabbed the cup from his hand, pushing through the crowd before anyone could stop me. I had no idea if Jack was following me or not, but given his freaky bodyguard conduct, I figured he’d be close behind. When I finally managed to squeeze my way out of the living room and into the main hall, where there was a little more space, I took a deep breath and sipped at whatever was in the red cup.

  “Oh God . . .” I sputtered, feeling the liquid burning as it eased down my throat. It tasted disgusting, whatever it was.

  It seemed to be a mix of something, most likely some type of cleaning liquid and straight up rat poison. Given how sketchy that guy had looked, it wouldn’t be surprising if whatever I was drinking had been conjured up in his basement. But I was going to need something strong if I was going to make it through the party. Jack’s presence was making little things seem like a bigger deal than they were. How many of these stupid parties had I already been to? How many times had I forced myself to sip a drink and pretend I liked it? How many times had I watched the people around me completely destroy their livers, and at times, pieces of furniture? None of it was new, but with Jack there, it felt like I was suffocating.

  “You sure that’s a good idea?” Jack said, watching me force another few sips down.

  I gagged, forcing more down my throat. “Yes.”

  Thankfully the music in the main hall was even softer than before, so I could actually hear what he was saying at an almost normal volume. I had no idea where the DJ was, but I could see speakers all around the house. Brendan’s mansion was absolutely huge, so the DJ could have been in any one of the several living rooms open to the party animals. Even Lincoln seemed to have disappeared without a trace.

  I placed the drink down on a nearby table. Half a cup of liquid death was enough for one night. A group of people who were standing in a kind of circle near the far corner of the room were all cheering loudly. I waited until a bunch of girls, who I recognized from a lower year level, finished stumbling past Jack and me, before looking over at the group.

  “What are they doing?” Jack asked, watching them in confusion.

  “Suck and blow,” I replied, the bitter taste of the drink still lingering on my tongue.

  Jack looked at me, widening his eyes. His corner of his lips curved up into a half-smile. “Excuse me?”

  I gave him a disgusted look and said, “Get your mind out of the gutter. It’s a card game! Haven’t you ever seen Clueless?”

  “Does it look like I’ve seen Clueless?”

  Jack turned his attention back to the group of cheering teenagers, who were clearly encouraging two people making out passionately. At least I knew almost everyone playing the game, only now I wish I hadn’t. They looked like idiots.

  “You suck in air so that the card sticks to your lips,” I explained. “And then you pass it on to the person next to you, blowing out air so that it sticks to their lips. Suck. And. Blow.”

  I pointed at two girls who were demonstrating exactly what I had just said.

  “So what happens if you drop the card?” Jack asked.

  “You have to kiss.”

  Jack looked at me, an impressed look on his face. “That’s creative.”

  Creative wasn’t exactly how I’d put it, but sure. Creative was a good path to go down.

  “Oh, hey Gia!” I heard someone say, and saw Charlie Kingston coming right toward me in a top with the world’s lowest neckline. There almost wasn’t even a point to wearing anything on top. It wasn’t really covering much.

  Charlie Kingston’s father is a big time music producer, and not the sketchy type that Aria talks to. Like an actual music producer. She was always going on about that one time Ariana Grande invited her to her birthday party, or how hot Robin Thicke looks over brunch. Don’t get me wrong, I like the girl. Only I don’t really like her. It’s kind of like talking to Kate Upton. I mean, sure she’s stunning and sweet and all. But did she have to be that good looking and nice, all in one go? Someone like that has to be hiding some huge skeleton in her closet. Maybe she was addicted to smelling shampoo or something. The other shoe has got to drop at some point.

  “Hey Charlie,” I said, giving her a half-assed smile. “Great dress!”

  What little there was of it, of course.

  “Thanks Gia! Did you want to play?” Charlie asked, motioning toward the group Jack and I had been watching.

  “Uh, no thanks,” I said. “I’m good.”

  Charlie nodded and looked at Jack, smiling at him hopefully. “What about you?”

  Jack looked at me and then back at Charlie. I glared at him, making sure his gaze didn’t drop any lower than her nose. Boy, was I going to unleash hell if that happened.

  “Oh no, I’m okay. Thanks,” Jack replied politely.

  “Oh come on!” Charlie said, tilting her head to one side so that her blonde curls tumbled all the way down to her hip. “It’ll be fun!”

  “Wel—”

  “He’s very busy!” I cut in, and Jack looked at me with an amused smile. “Very, very busy. So busy.”

  Charlie looked at me uncertainly and said, “Um, okay?”

  “Maybe later,” Jack said.

  “But then again, maybe not,” I quickly added. So busy, I mouthed, giving her an innocent smile.

  “Cool,” Charlie said, looking at me like I had lost my mind. “Well, you know where to find me.”

  She winked at him and walked off without even acknowledging my existence. I watched her through narrowed eyes. You know where to find me? Oh please. I did know where to find her, and it was nowhere classy.

  “What was that?” Jack asked. I crossed my arms over my chest defensively, bag still in hand.

  “What?” I replied, shrugging nonchalantly. “I was doing you a favor.”

  Jack raised an eyebrow and said, “Oh really?”

  “You don’t want to go there, trust me,” I told him. “For health reasons. Bad idea.”

  Okay, so that was a total lie. Not a total lie, because she really did get around, so the chances of a rash were high. But a little exaggeration never killed anyone.

  Jack looked like he wasn’t buying a word of it, his smile unwavering. “Oh.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  A girl I didn’t know walked past holding a Jell-O shot in one hand. I pulled it out of her reach as she approached us, gulping it down without thinking twice about it.

  “What the hell?” she said, as I placed the empty glass back in her hand.

  “Enjoy the party,” I told her.

  Hey, it was my boyfriend’s house. I could do whatever the hell I wanted. And by the looks of it, I was in the mood to make extremely bad life choices. Jack rolled his eyes again and wrapped his hand around my wrist, pulling me away from the girl. This time I didn’t bother yelling at him for touching me.

  “Where are we going?” I asked Jack.

  “Somewhere quiet!” Jack replied. I guess he took the lack of a tantrum as a go sign, because his hand trailed down from my wrist and slipped into my hand as he slowed down to let a few people squish past us.

  I looked down at our hands, our fingers intertwined. The birth of my first-born child would probably not match up to how it felt holding onto Jack’s hand right after he had met someone like Charlie Kingston. The heavens above really did have an angel watch
ing over me, and boy, that angel was doing one heck of a job.

  I mentally slapped myself and pulled my eyes away from our hands. I was at my own boyfriend’s party, daydreaming about some other guy’s hand! I was a terrible person and there was no denying it.

  “I’M DRUNK BITCHES!”

  A random guy wearing a Hawaiian printed shirt and a Rasta hat with fake dreadlocks attached to it jumped in front of us with his hands in the air, clutching what seemed to be a Ukulele in one of them. Jack came to a sudden halt and I crashed into his back, steadying myself on my heels. Was it legal for Jack to smell that good? Probably not. Plus, the basement deluxe drink I had downed wasn’t settling well with my mind. The Ukulele guy high-fived someone next to him and started chanting the lyrics to the Flo Rida song playing. Jack turned to me and grinned, as if he couldn’t believe he was actually at a party like this. I shrugged. I’d seen all this before.

  Jack opened the door directly to his right, and having been to Brendan’s house many times before, I knew it was one of many lavish bathrooms in the house.

  “Oh! Sorry . . .”

  Aria and some attractive, slightly exotic guy were sitting on the edge of the empty bath, passionately making out.

  “Hey Gia,” she said, slightly breathlessly.

  “Hey. Who’s this?” I asked, glancing at the guy adjusting his shirt.

  “Oh,” Aria said, looking at him with a sheepish smile. “This is . . . uh . . .”

  I widened my eyes expectantly. She didn’t even know the guy’s name! Typical Aria.

  “Marco,” he said, with an awkward wave and a slight Italian accent.

  “Marco.” Aria repeated, with a firm nod. “He’s from Spain.”

  “Italy.” He corrected her.

  “Oh, Italy.”

  “Right, well nice to meet you Marco.” Jack said, giving me a sideways look.

  “Hey, have you seen Brendan?” I asked, still holding onto Jack’s hand.

  “No, sorry. Try the kitchen? He was there with the caterers before.”

  “We’ll leave you to it then.” Jack told her.

  I mouthed nice work to Aria, motioning to Marco who was looking at his feet, and just managed to catch her wink before Jack closed the door.

  “Marco seems nice.” Jack said, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the music.

  I just smiled. Aria always ended up with some amazing stranger at parties, it was just who she was. What did I always end up with? Putting a drunk Brendan to bed while he sang the Friends theme song and completely missed the part where you clap.

  “Let’s try this room,” Jack said, more to himself than me, pushing open the door a little ahead of us.

  Again from experience, I already knew that the room was for guests. I’d only ever been in it once, the first time I had come to Brendan’s house. I remember falling in love with the golden lampshades and secretly wondering if I could sneak out with one if I hid it under my shirt. I didn’t try it though; Brendan was with me the whole time.

  “Finally,” Jack sighed, closing the door behind us and releasing my hand. “I can actually hear myself think.”

  “Why are we in the bedroom?” I asked, taking a step away from him. “Brendan was in the kitchen, remember?”

  The music was still loud, but at least it was muffled enough that we could have a conversation without shouting. I did some heavy breathing and reminded myself that Jack was just a guy, and not especially crafted by Baby J just for me. The bedroom atmosphere wasn’t helping though. Jack moved toward the bed and sat down on the edge of it, eyeing the contents of the room with an impressed look on his face.

  “Beef boy’s got a nice house,” he remarked, caressing the silk bed sheet beneath him.

  “Yeah, it’s . . . yeah.” I put my bag on the table closest to me, tucking my hair behind my ear.

  I was starting to regret those drinks I had conveniently downed out of spite and anxiety. I suddenly remembered I hadn’t eaten anything since the afternoon, which probably hadn’t helped. Jack raised his eyebrow at me, and I shifted from one foot to another nervously. I couldn’t help it. His cologne was freaking amazing!

  “Where is beef boy anyway?” Jack asked, rising from the bed.

  “Kitchen. I don’t know. I should go check.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” Jack said, looking at me suspiciously. “I’ve called Brendan ‘beef boy’ twice and you haven’t said anything.”

  I fiddled with the ends of my hair and looked at the ground, reminding myself to breathe normally.

  “Uh, hello? Are you listening to me?” Jack said.

  Oh lord. I was going off the rails, and there was no coming back. Abort plan. Abort plan!

  “Uh, mother must be calling us for tea and crumpets! I should check the parlour and find out.”

  Oh crap. I slapped a hand across my mouth and gave Jack a horrified look. His smile widened and he stifled a laugh.

  “Um, do I want to know what that was?”

  I continued to stare at him with my hand stopping me from saying anything else that would make me look appalling stupid. That’s it. I had reached the peak of embarrassment. There was no coming down from that. Ever.

  “Gia?”

  “I just—it’s nothing.”

  Okay that was a lie. When I was in fifth grade, there was a British guy in my class called David. He was my first crush, besides Nick Carter of course, and I was convinced I was going to marry him. Things didn’t go down too well for that plan though. I only ever spoke to him twice, and the first time all I said was a meek “hello.” The second time, we were paired to do an assignment and I was so terrified that I barely said anything to him at all for three lessons. Finally, when he was getting kind of weirded out by me, I rambled on for twenty minutes about things I liked about England in an atrocious British accent. I talked about everything from telephone booths to the Queen, all in a ridiculous accent. It turned out he was Irish, and the only Queen he liked was the band.

  He ended up requesting another partner, and eventually moved schools in the next year, hopefully not because of me. But ever since then, I automatically put on a British accent and-slash-or talk about English things every time I get overwhelmingly nervous.

  “Earth to Gia?”

  I snapped out of my flashback and lowered my hand, still gaping at Jack. The British accent hadn’t come out in a while, but it had returned with a bang.

  “Yeah, sorry. I just go a little British when I’m nervous. It’s a long story.”

  Jack stared at me blankly for a few seconds, biting his bottom lip. He looked like he was doing some internal reasoning, but wasn’t winning the battle. Jack finally began laughing, unable to keep it in any longer. He was laughing so hard; he had to put one hand on the bed to support him.

  “British!” He managed to say in between laughs.

  “What!” I cried. “Stop laughing at me!”

  I had intended for it come off a lot angrier, but watching Jack laugh made me want to laugh too. I only managed a smile and a little giggle, before Jack began composing himself and I forced the happiness off my face.

  “Oh my gosh,” Jack groaned, wiping a tear from under his eye. “You’re unbelievable.”

  “It’s not a big deal!” I argued. “Sometimes when I’m just a little nervous it pops out! Whatever!”

  “Wait!” Jack cocked his head to one side, his smile turning to a thoughtful look. “So I make you nervous?”

  It was the perfect opportunity to smash a fantastic comeback in his face, and remind him how unimportant he really was. Instead, I gulped and took a step backward toward the door.

  “Of course not.”

  Jack took a tiny step closer. “Really?”

  Oh lordy.

  “Wow,” I said. “It’s hot in here! Is it really hot in here? Or is that just me
? Because I kind of feel like you’re hot. I mean, it’s hot.”

  Jack’s lips curved into a half-smile. He was enjoying the effect he had on me. No way I could stay in that room for a second longer, I didn’t trust myself. Practically launching myself at the door handle, I swung the door open, crashing right into Brendan in the process. I pushed the hair out of my face, painfully twisting my ankle on my stiletto heels. That wasn’t about to stop me though. The babbling had already begun.

  “Oh my gosh! There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Like everywhere!” I practically shouted at Brendan, throwing my hands straight up in the air like a maniac.

  “Uh,” he said, looking a little taken aback by my over enthusiasm. “Hey.”

  This was not going well. Brendan looked kind of scared of me, Jack’s cologne had taken up permanent residency in my nose and I still had my hands in the air like a deranged person. Obviously nothing had happened between Jack and I, but from where Brendan was standing, I was flustered and leaving a bedroom with the guy he currently hated most.

  “Hey man,” Jack greeted Brendan awkwardly. “Great party.”

  “What are you guys doing?” Brendan said, ignoring Jack.

  I glanced at the empty plate Brendan was holding in his left hand.

  “We were . . . looking for food.”

  “In the bedroom?”

  “Yeah. The guy with the ukulele said there was some in here.”

  I sent my mental apologies to “Ukulele guy” for throwing him under the bus. But desperate times called for desperate measures. I turned to Jack uncertainly, who was looking at the floor. What a load of help he was.

  “Well you just missed out. The fried dumplings finished a second ago.” Brendan said slowly, looking from me to Jack.

  Unfortunately, the music’s volume was significantly lower now so I couldn’t pretend that I couldn’t hear anything to get out of this conversation.

  “Listen,” Brendan leaned in closer. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

  “Sure!” I cried, clasping my hands together as though I had been told we were going to Disneyland.

  “I’ll let you have a minute,” Jack said, nodding at me and pushing past Brendan. “I’ll be right outside.”