I hear the party from down the road, and when I finally show my face in the front yard, I'm almost surprised by how clichéit looks. It really is your typical college party, but I never experienced it on the North Shore; I'm just basing that on some films. People are drinking from kegs on the lawn, and two people are kissing on the Adirondack chairs on the porch, the girl straddling the guy. Loud music is booming, making the windows shake, and I don't need to knock or introduce myself because there are already too many people going in and out of the front door.
I walk past a group of girls on my way in, and despite the bass rendering me practically deaf, I hear their snickering and comments about my skirt. So I guess this was the wrong choice of outfit. Apparently, “we're not in 2012 anymore,” according to one of them. I keep going, now trying to make myself smaller as Chase's words from earlier resonate in the forefront of my mind. Maybe I do look terrible in this. I don't really have time to think further about it when I catch a flash at the corner of my eye and turn toward another girl.
"Did you just take a picture of me?" The shock in my voice betrays my racing heart. I don't want to be in the middle of some drama the second I arrive at my first party.
"Nyx!" a voice calls to the side. I look for it, and by the time I glance back at that girl, she's gone.
God, I'm already sweating. There are so many people in here, and I feel like everyone’s eyes are on me.
"Nyx," the voice calls again, swallowed by the music. Finally, Peach, one of the girls who invited me, reaches me.
"You're here!" she says brightly, eyes shining with excitement. "I'm so glad you came. Come, the others are outside."
She drags me with her through the crowd, toward a back room, and finally out into the backyard. I feel like I can breathe again. It's cool, the mid-September air announcing the colder temperatures of fall.
"It's hot in there," she says as we join a group sitting in a circle on the patio around a fire pit. "Guys, this is Nyx."
She gestures to Ella, the short blonde from two weeks ago. "You know Els. And you briefly met her boyfriend Chris too." She points at the giant standing next to her with a cute face that seems to hide not-so-cute secrets.
"And this is Alex." She shows me a woman with dirty-blonde hair and beautiful hazel eyes who looks like the personification of innocence. "And that's her boyfriend?—"
"Xi?" I cut her off, recognizing the man who's got Alex on his knees, both arms wrapped around her waist.
Who from the North Shore doesn't know the man who used to be the biggest drug dealer for NSC.
He cocks an eyebrow at me, and I hurry to explain myself. "I'm from the North Shore."
His gaze automatically searches my body. He's looking for a tattoo that'll tell him who I belong to. I have zero tattoos, and again, I'm word vomiting.
"I-I'm not part… I wasn't…" I stammer. My eyes frantically look around, terrified to even imagine how the girls will react. When I finally manage to push the words out, it’s through a strained whisper. "I'm not in a gang."
And the second I say that, my eyes snap to Xi's tattoo on his arm. The one that says he was part of NSC, and a whole new fear comes over me. Did I just out him in front of his girlfriend and her friends? Do people here know anything about the history of the North Shore? That we used to be at each other's throats and that blood spilled on the street while they lived a beautiful life here?
Peach bursts into a laugh. "Relax, Nyx. We don't judge in this group. We all have a little fucked-up piece inside us."
Alex smiles reassuringly, briefly putting a reassuring hand on mine as I just stand here with my arms by my sides since there aren't any available chairs. "And I know about Xi."
I chuckle awkwardly but can't seem to relax since Xi's death stare is still on me. I can almost tell the exact moment the bulb lights up in his mind.
"Ah,Nyx. You're Kayla King's little protégée." My stomach twists all over again from the disgust in his tone.
There's no fucking winning in this lifetime for me. My whole life, I wanted to be out of the North Shore so badly, to belong on the South Bank, that I made sure to have a clean record so no one would judge me here. But here I am, not feeling like I belong, seeing yet another unimpressed North Shore guy because my reputation precedes me on that side of the river.
"Yeah," I huff. "Kayla protected me, and I never had to join a gang, thanks to her. Now I made it to my dream university. Again,thanks to her.Big fucking deal," I mumble. "You date a girl from around here, but you judge me for wanting to leave our shitty town, which, by the way, was made even shittier by people like you. I'm not sure which of us deserved that unimpressed tone of yours."
A silence falls over us, and I feel the blood drain from my face. I don't often voice my critical thoughts. I'm not confrontational, and I'm getting a reminder of why. I can't stand everyone's shocked stares.
"I'm sorry," I mumble as I bring a hand to my face, anxiously rubbing one of my eyebrows.
"Scholarship's got some backbone, apparently."
I startle, not having heard him get close. My back straightens from the presence behind me, and I recognize his taunting tone right away.
I knew there’d be no escaping Achilles Duval tonight when I was invited here by his friends. But every time I hear his voice, I feel like the rest of the world disappears.
The last thing I need is to lose my sanity over this guy. I just want to make it back home in one piece.
Chapter Six
