I hesitated, sniffing at the drink. It smelled like grape, but also like alcohol, reminding me of that awful cough syrup my mom forced down my throat when I was little.
“Come on, live a little,” Lil urged, already chugging down half a cup of the grape-flavored hangover-in-waiting.
Glancing around the party, taking in the chaos around me, I knew the only way I’d get through the night was if I joined the fun. So, I took a deep breath and braced myself for the worst. Then I slugged down a big gulp.
“Ugh!” My face twisted in disgust.
“Sorry if it’s too strong. I’m an amateur bartender.”
It was definitely too strong, but maybe strong was what I needed tonight. I shuddered, and forced another swallow down. And another, and another. I set down the empty cup proudly, and Lil filled it to the brim again with a grin.
I rolled my eyes, but took it with me as we made our way out of the kitchen.
Samantha grabbed my arm as I passed.
“Dance, girl!” she yelled, shimmying her hips while holding a cup in her left hand and a handful of Alex Combs’ shirt in the other.
I laughed, shaking my head, and plowed through the crowd of loud couples and obnoxious boys playing drinking games, shouting over the music, and shoving each other like a bunch of kids on the playground. I’d need a whole lot more to drink before joining that unruly mass.
“Party pooper!” she shouted after me.
Samantha never did understand people who didn’t want to live loud. She was the life of the party, but that would never be me.
Lily steered me into a group of rowdy graduates that included Carlos, and I hovered at the edges, sipping at my drink and attempting to follow the drunken stories.
“And then she was all, the prom is a special night! And she started crying right in the middle of the dance floor!”
Laughter broke out, though I couldn’t figure out what was funny, having missed most of the story and suspecting I wouldn’t find it funny even if I hadn’t. Just as I raised my cup for another drink, I realized it was empty.
“Here, take mine,” Lily said, shoving her cup at me, even as she turned for the kitchen. “I’m going to grab a beer for Carlos, so I’ll just make another.”
She disappeared into the crowd, and I drifted away from the group, searching out a little breathing room.
Finally, I spotted the staircase and blessed open space not filled with drunken teenagers. I climbed the stairs, taking a seat at the top where I could watch over the party while not smothering in it.
By then, I had made it to my third cup of fruity-flavored alcohol, and was feeling rather disconnected from everything. As I sat, the room below spun slowly, and I leaned against the wall for support.
NICK
Graduation is the launching pad to the rest of your lives …
Bass vibrated through the room, undaunted by the wooden door, and rattled the desk. I groaned and tapped the delete key.
Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete.
“You suck,” I muttered, glaring at the screen, which was once again blank.
The curser blinked, as if daring me to come up with something better. I’d been working for two hours — or at least searching for inspiration that long. But after reading, surfing the web and racking my brain, I was no closer to the perfect column topic.
And I was distracted.
A yell went up downstairs. “Body shots!”
It was followed by catcalls, whistles and drunken laughter.
Trying to work in the middle of a party wasn’t the best idea I’d ever had.
Doing my best to block out the noise, I reflected on potential column topics. The art walks piece I’d originally planned sounded like fluff. No way to win over the editors in the bid to keep this column. I needed more time to finish the political piece about the councilwoman who was overspending tax dollars for questionable travel arrangements.
Graduation had seemed like the logical solution, but that was the problem.
It was predictable, aka boring.
The newspaper industry is going down the toilet and as a result, this column is saying goodbye …
I sighed and took my hands off the keys. If there was any brilliance inside me, it wasn’t going to emerge with this party screaming outside my door, and I could definitely use a drink.
The view from the second floor revealed a disaster zone below. Empty plates and beer cans covered every surface. Glistening skin flashed as girls and guys grinded together to the blaring music that rivaled some nightclubs for noise decibels.
I was too old for this crap — or maybe too sober.
I longed for my peaceful apartment. Elana would be gone by now, but given the massive crowd in Carlos’ living room, I’d never get my car out.
I hesitated outside the guest room where I’d been hiding, trying to psych myself up. Just get in and get out. One drink and back to work.
Turning toward the staircase, I noticed a girl sitting alone at the top of the stairs. She wasn’t clubbed up like the other girls at the party, instead dressed in jeans and a green blouse.
I gave her a brief onceover, doing a quick inventory: No body glitter. No makeup. No cleavage.
She must have been dragged to the party by a friend.
“Not too social, are you?” I asked, raising my voice to be heard over the music.
Her brown eyes flicked over to me.
“No,” she said, without the hint of a smile.
If there were a projection screen that put her feelings up on the wall, I was pretty sure hers would say leave me alone.
Oddly reassured, I walked over and dropped down beside her.
She leaned away, pressing closer to the wall.
“Don’t worry, I’m not here to hit on you. I’m not even drunk, believe it or not.”
She nodded, turning her eyes to the crowd below.
She was pretty in an understated way. Her chestnut hair was straight and shoulder-length, held back by a makeshift headband that hinted at a retro style. Her fitted blouse outlined her curves nicely, while her jeans showcased long legs. There was a coltish beauty to her, something young and untamed, and yet I got the impression she’d done little more than run a brush through her hair before running out the door.
She struck me as that type of girl. Low-maintenance.
“Is that why you sought out the least social person at this party?” she asked.
Her lips curved in a smile, but a sad one.
That expression made me curious. Had someone harassed her? Or was she lonely, overlooked because she didn’t spray on enough glitter and flash enough skin?
“I guess so,” I murmured. “Drunk people can be pretty annoying when you’re sober.”
I gave her an opening to tell me some jerk had messed with her, but she just laughed and lifted her half-empty cup.
“I never said I wasn’t drunk.”
I hadn’t missed that, either. Her eyes were too glazed for total sobriety, though she was far from trashed.
“Yes, but you’ve missed the hyper phase and gone straight into the brooding, introspective phase. Much more dignified,” I teased.
She turned back to looking at the crowd below, but I could see the smile she tried to hide.
“Oh Lord,” she said. “Lil is getting in it now.”
“Lil?”
She pointed to a slender blonde grinding with … my cousin. Of course.
“Carlos is a total player,” my staircase buddy told me. “I keep telling her that, but she won’t listen. I mean, he’s been with like every pretty girl in our year except Lil. I bet he just couldn’t let graduation pass without saying he scored with them all.”
“Does that include you?”
Now, why did I ask that? I didn’t want to know if this girl was another of Carlos’ conquests. I’d have to bolt, and I was just getting comfortable.
“Uh …” she said awkwardly, and took a gulp from her cup to stall for time.
Shit. She w
as an ex.
Why had I gone there? Her answer wouldn’t matter. She was too young, and I never dated anyone. Not after Elana.
Anytime I started to think I could move on, the familiar churning of guilt and regret in my gut corrected my mistake.
“I don’t really fall into the pretty girl category. I was never on his radar.”
“Oh.”
I sensed her pulling back into herself, as she refused to make eye contact and sipped her drink. I couldn’t leave her hanging like that.
“Carlos is a dick.”
Great. Real classy, Nick.
She burst out laughing in earnest, to my relief.
I decided in that moment Carlos was an idiot. This girl was beautiful, and if she put in half the effort of the glossy girls downstairs, she’d outshine them all.
EDIE
I watched this guy, whose name I didn’t even know, grinning at me and felt a little lighter than I had all day.
He was older. Somewhere in his twenties, I guessed. And compared to the obnoxious boys downstairs, he was sexy and sophisticated.
Too sophisticated for a high school party.
When I’d first seen him in the hall — a tall, dark stranger stepping out of a bedroom — I shuddered to think what he might be doing there. Now, with his body warming my side as he sat close, I wondered if someone waited inside for him.
He didn’t seem to be in any hurry. His eyes fixed on me while I watched the party and tried to seem unaffected by his gaze.
Why hadn’t I done something more with my hair, or dressed up a little at least?
I dismissed the thought immediately, glancing to the side to take him in once more. He was so far out of my league it was a joke.
His dark hair was short, but neatly styled, and his fitted T-shirt and dark-wash jeans hugged his body perfectly. He was lean, rather than bulky, but with enough muscle definition to show when he leaned back on his elbows and his shirt stretched tighter.
I liked his eyes best, though, a deep blue that contrasted vividly against his olive-toned skin.
In a word: gorgeous.
“Why so glum tonight?” he asked. “The only time you smiled was when I called Carlos a dick. Did he do something to you?”
“No,” I said quickly. “I just had a bad day.”
“Why’s that?”
He stared at me so intently, and with such sincere interest, the words slipped free before I could think them through.
“No one came to my graduation today.”
I shrugged, trying to play off how much it bothered me.
“It’s pretty typical of my parents, actually. They’ve missed a lot of special occasions, but I was really hoping this one would be different, you know?”
“Out of town?”
I shook my head and sighed. “No, they just—” I stopped abruptly and glanced at him. “You don’t need to hear all this.”
“Actually, I’d like to hear it,” he said, leaning in close and lowering his voice. “And, it seems like maybe you’d like to tell it.”
Maybe it was the alcohol loosening my tongue, or maybe I just needed to vent. But I told him my whole sad life story.
At first, I talked about my disappointment with graduation. But he kept asking questions, and he was so easy to talk to, that before I knew it I’d given him a rundown of every birthday my parents had missed, every school concert. Even the story of my parents’ divorce, and the strain with my mom ever since I chose to live with my dad.
I went on and on, taking breaks only to gulp down the rest of my drink. And he soaked it all in, never interrupting, always listening intently.
When I finished, I felt drained but also lighter. As though I’d been carrying a burden of bitterness for so long, I didn’t realize it had made it hard to breathe.
“Wow,” he said when I finally fell silent, my throat a little sore from talking so much. “That is some story.”
“Sorry. I’ve probably bored you.”
“Nah, I’d like to hear more. Like your name, maybe.”
“Oh,” I laughed and held out a hand to shake, trying to ignore the flutters in my stomach when his fingers brushed my palm. “I’m Edie Mason. And you?”
“Nick,” he said as he pumped my hand with exaggerated enthusiasm and a grin that made my heart skip.
“Edie’s an unusual name. You spell that with a Y?”
“No, it’s i-e. E-D-I-E,” I said. “So, would you like to share your sob story now? It’s what drunk people do, apparently.”
“Ah, but you forgot,” he said with a slight smile, “I’m not drunk; you are. So why don’t you tell me more? Is your mother remarried too?”
“What are you, training to be a bartender?”
He laughed and nudged me with his shoulder. “No, really, I’m interested.”
I didn’t pause to consider why he wanted my story. It was just nice to have someone interested. So, I rolled my eyes at him good-naturedly and kept answering his questions until Lily arrived.
I didn’t notice her presence on the stairs until she tapped my shoulder.
“Edie, we’re getting ready to leave.”
I looked up. “Oh. Already?”
Lil rolled her eyes. “It’s 2 a.m., and Samantha’s got to work early tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
Time had flown by while I talked to this guy. Nick.
He stood up and grabbed my hand, pulling me to my feet, where I swayed for a moment before catching my balance against the wall.
“I’m Nick,” he supplied to Lily. “Edie and I were just talking about graduation.”
“Uh-hmm,” Lily said noncommittally. “And will Edie ever see you again?”
“Lil! He doesn’t have to see me again.”
Lil thought I was naive, and Nick was looking to take advantage. As if a guy that good-looking would actually pursue me.
Nick just grinned at Lily as if he knew exactly what she was about.
“I’m sure Edie and I will meet again,” he said. “At any rate, she can figure out how to find me.”
To my disappointment — but not surprise — he didn’t offer a phone number or ask for mine. He started down the stairs.
“What’s that mean?” Lily called after him, but he didn’t answer.
“Oh, well, let’s get you out of here. You can sleep over at my house, so you don’t go home drunk,” Lily said, helping me down the stairs.
Chapter 3
Headline: The Lonely Graduate
Subhead: Time to get a new family
Byline: By Nick Espinoza
Lead: We’ve come to associate high school graduation with a lot of things: growing up, becoming independent, moving on to the next chapter of our lives. We’ve also come to associate it with applause and cheering and congratulations from friends and family.
But one graduate in Friday’s ceremony faced this milestone alone. One lonely graduate had no one in the audience to cheer for her, no hugs waiting in the crowd. Because her family didn’t go.
Think about it. They weren’t out of town. They didn’t have prior commitments.
They. Just. Didn’t. Go.
EDIE
“Nice of you to finally come home.”
I jumped, surprised to see Debra sitting in the armchair just inside the living room. At 11 a.m. on a Monday, I didn’t expect her to be home, but she must have taken an early lunch.
After the party, I’d spent the weekend at Lily’s nursing a hangover.
“I called and left a message. Didn’t you get it?”
Debra snatched up a copy of a newspaper, lying on the end table, and marched over to me with her mouth in a stern line.
“Yep. I don’t know why you bothered considering you obviously have no respect for me or your father.”
“What—“
She thrust the newspaper in my face, narrowly missing my nose. I leaned back, attempting to focus on the type.
“The lonely graduate?” she spit. “Time to get a new fa
mily?”
My mouth dropped open, and I grabbed the paper so I could read the text. Debra continued the tirade as I attempted to process what I was seeing.
“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
I tuned her out as I stared at the headline and byline below it. When I spotted the columnist photo, I gasped.
Nick.
A sense of horror spread as I read the first few lines of the column.
“Oh no. No, no. I didn’t know!”
His last name was Espinoza? As in … related to Carlos Espinoza? It would explain why he’d come out of a bedroom upstairs, rather than from the party below. I should have realized.
Thinking back to my conversation with Nick, I felt so stupid. How could I have thought he was actually interested in my pity party? He’d seemed so sincere, but my judgment had obviously been skewed. He’d been looking for a story, and I’d given it to him.
“Didn’t know what? That you were insulting your parents for the paper? That you were treating your father like crap?” Deb shook her head. “I’ve told Paul for years he was being too easy on you. That you were spoiled. And here’s the proof!”
“Being too easy on me?” I asked in disbelief. “I was a straight-A student. I never got into trouble. Why would he need to punish me?”
“You’re disrespectful—“
“Maybe you never earned my respect!” I blurted, instantly regretting it when her eyes narrowed.
“What’s going on here?”
We both turned to see my father glowering from the hallway. Judging by his wild hair and sleep-creased face, he’d been napping.
“Edie was just informing me that I have to earn her respect,” Debra said, crossing her arms and looking at my father pointedly.
I hated when they teamed up on me.
“Dad, she basically called me an ungrateful brat!” I exclaimed before he had a chance to back her up.
Dad leaned heavily on his cane, his eyes disappointed. “Well, when the shoe fits—“
“Oh, please!”
“You disappointed me, Edie. I understand you were upset, but instead of talking out your feelings with us, you went blabbing to some stranger, and now the whole town thinks we’re shitty parents!”
Earning Edie (Espinoza Boys #1) Page 2
