by Emma Doherty
She scowls, stepping toward me, Sasha at her side. “I just meant it’s getting late and I thought you might ditch.”
“Yeah, my brother-in-law’s dinner went later than I thought.”
“Any cute guys?”
My mind automatically goes to the bartender who couldn’t keep his eyes off my sister. He was definitely cute, but he only had eyes for one person. To be honest, I’m going to try to forget about it. The way they were looking at each other makes me sad, like they know nothing will ever come of it. There’s obviously something going on there, but I doubt Ellie would ever tell me. “No. Everyone was old.”
“Pity.”
I eye her for a second, taking in her lipstick. “Your lipstick is smudged.”
“Peter MacKintosh,” she tells me with a smirk on her face, naming a junior on the soccer team.
I raise an eyebrow at her in surprise. She’s never once mentioned being interested in him.
She shrugs. “I was bored and it’s slim pickings. Same old people all the time.”
“Well we are seniors now,” Sasha says rationally and, in my opinion, quite kindly. The reason it’s such slim pickings for Sarah is because she’s definitely dated around. Sophie is the only one who rivals her in terms of man-eater status in our grade.
“I know, but I wish the Liberty guys would swing by,” she says, referring to a nearby school that’s our rival.
I laugh. Sarah is always very aware of who the guys on the opposite teams are when we’re cheering at games and she’s always been interested in one guy in particular, but she’s delusional if she thinks anyone from Liberty is going to come here. Why would they? They don’t need to—they have their own parties.
“Whereabouts?” She points at her mouth, wondering where the smudged lipstick is.
I point at the bottom right-hand corner of my own lips to indicate where I mean.
Sarah lifts her middle finger and rubs at the skin under her lip, trying to hit the same spot as me. “Did I get it?”
I eye her for a minute, looking at the lipstick, and quickly swipe off the bit that’s smudged. “There, you’re fine.”
I look at Sasha more closely too. It looks like she’s attempted some sort of crease cut on her eyelids with a shimmery powder, but now that I’m up closer, it just looks like a mixed-up mess.
She laughs when she realizes what I’m doing. “Don’t judge. You weren’t there to help me.”
“You did that yourself?”
“Jen helped but gave up halfway through. We couldn’t get it to look like it did on the tutorial.”
I shake my head, stifling a smile. She’s eighteen years old and can’t figure out how to do her own glam makeup, but then that’s probably my fault because I’ll always, always do anyone’s makeup who asks, and Sasha is always asking. She can’t be bothered to do it herself and enjoys feeling pampered—not that I’m complaining. I love doing her makeup. Hers, Sarah’s, Jen’s, Ellie’s…anyone’s, really. It’s the only thing I’m good at.
“Come on,” I tell her, grabbing her hand and tugging her along behind me. “I’ll fix your makeup.”
I pull her upstairs, leaving Sarah to wander away, strolling along the hallway and into an empty bedroom that I know has an ensuite. Apparently Aaron’s party hasn’t gotten to the stage where kids are hooking up in bedrooms yet (although I’m sure that will come), or maybe it’s just that he has so many spare rooms this one wasn’t needed.
Sasha sits down on the edge of the bath as I root around in my small handbag, pull out the little amount of makeup I have on me, and lay it out next to the sink. Then I dig around in the cupboards, hoping I can find something that will help get off the mess of color she has on her eyes.
Bingo.
I pull out some makeup wipes at the back, which some former houseguest must have left behind, and hold them out to Sasha. “Take off your eye makeup, but try not to get any of your foundation.”
Sasha dutifully does as she’s told as I look in her bag and find that the only item of makeup she’s brought with her is some concealer. “This is all you’ve got?”
She shrugs. “You know me.”
I guess, though I can’t imagine ever not bringing my makeup to any social gathering—or whenever I leave the house, really. I care too much about what I look like, about the way people perceive me.
I guess it’s admirable that Sasha isn’t like that.
I take the lid off her concealer and dot it under her eyes and over her lids, blending it into the foundation she already has on and making sure you can’t tell the where the foundation ends and the concealer starts.
“What do you want?”
“I don’t mind.” She yawns. “To be honest, I might leave soon.”
“What? I just got here.”
“I know, but I have to get up early tomorrow, and everyone’s just trying to find someone to hook up with. I’m not into it.”
“Yeah.” I get that. Sasha was dating someone who was the grade above us for the last two years. When he went to college, they tried to make it work for a while, but it was too difficult with the distance, so they called it a day. It’s the first time since we’ve been close that she’s been single, but she’s not into just hooking up with a random at a party, not when (as she puts it) she’s been in love and knows what the real deal is. She doesn’t see the point in wasting her time.
I can relate to that.
I go back to the task at hand and decide a simple bat-wing eyeliner will look good on her. I tell her to keep still then draw on the line, keeping my hand steady and thickening it up before moving on to her other eye. It takes a few minutes to make sure they’re symmetrical, but eventually I’m happy, and then I add swipes of mascara to her lashes to finish off the look.
I lean back to admire my handiwork just as she lets out another huge yawn.
I roll my eyes. “You have to stay for at least another hour after I made you look this good.”
She rolls her eyes as she stands to go to the mirror to check herself out, and if the smile on her face is anything to go by then she’s pretty happy with what she sees. “Okay, at least another hour.”
I grin back at her, but her face turns serious. “What?”
“Did you talk to your teachers?”
Right, that again. “I will.”
“You can’t avoid this, Abbie.”
“I know, I know.”
“I saw Brett earlier.”
“Brett?”
She rolls her eyes in irritation. “The smartest guy in school? The one you should ask to tutor you.”
Oh right. “Okay.”
“I’ll introduce you to him when we get back downstairs.”
I hesitate at her words and she’s about to say something else, when but I hold up my hand to cut her off. “I just need tonight, Sash. I’ll deal with all that stuff on Monday, but for now I just need to feel like a normal girl who is having fun with her friends, rather than someone who is too stupid to graduate without help.”
Her face softens. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
“You wanna go find everyone?”
I hesitate for a second.
“What?”
I shrug. “We can go find Jennifer and some of the others I guess.”
She looks confused.
I sigh. “Aaron, Brendon, Jackson…those guys are Chase’s best friends. They’re not going to want to hang out with me anymore.”
Her jaw falls open. “You’re kidding, right? We’ve all been friends for years. They’re just as much your friends as they are Chase’s.”
I shrug. I wish I believed that, but I don’t. I haven’t actually hung out socially with any of those guys for a while. I guess I haven’t wanted to make them feel awkward and like I’m hanging on to them when I’m clearly not part of Chase’s inner circle anymore.
“Seriously, Abbie. You’re overthinking it. Those guys are your friends.”
I don’t say anything to that as she comes o
ver and links her arm in mine, giving me a reassuring squeeze, and together we make our way back downstairs and into the kitchen.
Immediately we’re swept up in the frenzy of the party, and Sasha pulls me over to Aaron and the rest of the guys. Aaron immediately starts handing out drinks, and Brendon loudly declares that he’ll take on any of us at beer pong. Eventually, I start to relax. It feels nice to be in familiar territory where everyone’s behaving the same way they always have, and it allows me to think maybe, even just for this night, not everything is a complete mess.
I’m just starting to enjoy myself, just starting to finally, for the first time since Coach spoke to me, not worry about my grades and graduating and just enjoy a high school party with my friends like a regular kid when Jackson, who is standing opposite me, moves out of the way and allows me to see out into the kitchen.
In particular, to see Chase.
With Livy.
Kissing over there like there’s nobody else in the room.
I should look away; I should start to notice that my friends have seen that I’ve fallen quiet and are probably following my eyeline and jumping to conclusions about what I’m thinking. They’re probably thinking I don’t like what I see, thinking I’m crazy jealous that he’s so into her when his feelings for me never even came close to that, thinking seeing them together like this is like a kick in the face every single time, which is often since they’re always together.
That’s probably what they’re all thinking.
And they wouldn’t be wrong.
I abruptly turn away from them, facing the counter and pulling over a bottle of tequila.
Shots—that’s what I need if I’m going to get through the next couple of hours with Chase and Livy over there looking like love’s young dream.
“Who wants a shot?”
“I think you need to go home, Abigail.”
My head swings to my right and I stumble slightly with the force of the movement. I squint to look at Sasha, who is looking at me with her face screwed up.
“Wh–what did you say?”
“You need to go home. You’re wasted.”
I am not going anywhere. In between sneaking glances at Chase and Livy, I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to hook up tonight to try to make myself feel that little bit better. I just haven’t figured out who it’s going to be with yet.
“Come on, Abigail. I’ll call you an Uber.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re wasted.”
“No, I’m not,” I slur back at her. I step back to lean against the kitchen counter behind me but completely misjudge the distance and end up falling to the floor, straight onto my butt, hitting my head against the cabinet in the process. “Oww.”
Sasha’s eyes widen as she bends down to help me. “Jesus, Abigail. You’ll hurt yourself!”
“Okay, okay.” Aaron appears out of nowhere and crouches down in front of me. “You’re okay.” He reaches under my arms like I’m a rag doll and hauls me back onto my feet. “How about we get you some water, huh?”
I squint at him as he looks back at me in concern.
Huh.
Aaron.
Aaron is good-looking. Not in Chase’s league as far as I’m concerned, but still, good-looking. Funny, kind, friendly, popular.
Huh.
“Abigail? Water?”
I nod at him, but when he turns his back to me to fetch the offered beverage, I reach for his hand and tug him back to me.
He looks back at me in surprise before looking down at our conjoined hands in bewilderment and then trying to detach himself from me. “I’m gonna get you some water.”
“Psst.” I dismiss his comment through my squinting eyes and decide, Why the hell not? I reach out with both hands, grabbing his t-shirt and pulling him toward me so his body is right on mine. “Hey, Aaron.”
As drunk as I am, even I can figure out that he does not look comfortable right now. “Abigail, you’re drunk.”
“Hey, Abigail, I’m calling you an Uber,” Sasha says from somewhere near me.
“I don’t wanna go home,” I manage to get out, still not looking away from Aaron. “Unless…do you want to take me home, Aaron?”
He lets out a noise of disbelief, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else, and we’re separated by Sasha, who pulls me away slightly. “Abigail, come on, don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“I’m calling you an Uber.”
“No, I’m going home with Aaron.”
“You’re already at Aaron’s house,” she says quietly, her eyes darting around. “Come on, stop it.”
I whirl back to Aaron, who for some reason hasn’t run for the hills. “We should have sex.”
There’s some sort of reaction to my words from around me, shocked gasps and sniggers, but I don’t pay them any attention as I watch Aaron’s jaw fall open.
I signal to the doorway of the kitchen. “Let’s go to your room.”
He doesn’t seem to have a response to that, and I’m distracted by someone appearing at my side, holding a glass of water. “Drink this.”
I turn and see that, of all people, it’s Sophie Steele—the one girl on the cheerleading squad who tells me exactly how it is and who also happens to be Livy’s best friend. I actually didn’t know she was in the room, and it probably doesn’t bode well for how many people are watching this exchange if someone who was all the way across the other side of the house is watching this.
Ha! Everyone in here is probably watching me hitting on Aaron and getting rejected.
I should be mortified right now, but for some reason I find it funny, and I start laughing out loud. I look around, and yes, there are certainly still a lot of people in here, and they all seem to be looking my way. This makes me laugh even harder.
“Abigail,” Sophie hisses. “Pull it together. Drink this.”
I wave her away. “I don’t want that.”
“Trust me, you need to sober up.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ll regret this tomorrow.”
“I’m fine,” I insist again, although even I can tell I’m about as far from sober as I could be right now. I haven’t stopped drinking since I got to Aaron’s house, and all those drinks I swiped earlier at Eric’s benefit have also definitely taken their toll.
“Aaron…” I turn back to him, stumbling slightly at the sudden movement. “Let’s go have sex in your room.”
A gasp of delight comes from behind him, and I just manage to focus enough to see that it’s Sarah, watching this exchange greedily. To be honest, I’m surprised she doesn’t have her phone out to record me so she use it to humiliate me with later.
“Abigail,” Aaron says calmly, “we’re not going to have sex. You should go home.”
“Oh.” Hmm…he’s a guy, and guys always want to have sex. “Why not? Are you sleeping with someone else tonight?” He just blinks at me, clearly not prepared to answer, and I rack my brain to try to remember if he’s dating anyone or if I’ve seen him with someone tonight.
Nope, he’s definitely single.
Oh…wait…he’s Chase’s best friend, and there’s that whole bro code thing.
I guess it makes sense that he doesn’t want to sleep with me. “Is it because you’re Chase’s best friend and we used to date?”
He blinks at me.
“He doesn’t care,” I tell him.
The room becomes even more silent, if at all possible, and I see everyone look toward the windows at the back of the kitchen. When I look to see what they’re all looking at, I see Chase is standing there, watching our exchange with a strange expression on his face. Livy is beside him, only this time there’s more space between them, like they’ve purposely stepped away from each other, and she’s looking worried. I dismiss her expression, though—Livy always looks worried.
“You don’t care, do you, Chase?”
“Abigail.” Aaron steps closer to me and lowers his voice. “You ne
ed to go home and sober up.”
“He doesn’t care,” I insist. “He never did.”
Aaron’s face softens. “Abigail…”
Okayyyy, clearly it’s not going to happen with him.
I shrug my shoulders. “Relax, Aaron. I’ll find someone else.”
Then I push myself away from the countertop and walk toward the door to the hallway. I must be drunker than I thought because I trip on absolutely nothing and nearly go flying, but someone reaches out to grab me before I fall. I look up to see some guy with reddish blond curly hair looking down at me, some guy I don’t recognize and who doesn’t look particularly sympathetic to my plight. I shrug him off and continue toward the door, walking straight into Brendon, who is just about to enter.
“Hey, Ab—”
“You’re coming with me,” I immediately tell him, grabbing his hand and pulling him away from the kitchen and back into the party. I’m heading for the stairs when I notice someone coming out of one of the downstairs bathrooms, and I steer off from my route and push him into the empty room before anyone else can get in.
He looks around in surprise. “What’s going on?” he asks, obviously confused but still with a smile playing on his lips.
I manage to smile back at him as I lean against the bathroom sink, grateful that it’s there as it’s pretty difficult to stand right now.
Brendon, Brendon, Brendon.
What was I thinking asking Aaron to hook up? Brendon is the obvious choice. He’ll literally get with anyone, and if the amount of practice he’s had is anything to go by then he’s going to be good at it.
“Huh? Abigail?” He walks toward me, concern starting to appear on his face. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I tell him with all the certainty I can muster just as there’s a bang on the bathroom door.
Brendon glances at it. “What’s going on?”
“Go away!” I shout.
“Abbie, it’s Sasha. Open the door.”
Brendon looks between the door and me in complete confusion. “What’s happening?”
“I’m fine, go away,” I call back.
“Brendon, open the door,” Sasha yells.
He moves toward it, but I step in front of him. “Ignore her,” I command with complete conviction. “She’s fine.”
