“Maybe we shouldn’t go then?” I suggest, scuffing the tip of my boot against the ground. “If it’s that bad.”
“Not all the parties are bad. Just a few of the partygoers. And that’s generally the rule at any party.” She gives me a funny look. “Not to stereotype, but they have parties on northside—I know they have to. So, why do you seem so sketched out about this?”
“Because they have parties on northside.” And because of my parents. I’m not about to disclose that to her, though. “It’s fine. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“Oh, it’ll be something,” Wren mumbles as she eyes a group of guys exiting the house.
“I’ll respect your rules,” Lily informs her as she runs her hands across the front of her dress, smoothing any wrinkles. “But if my brothers offer me a drink or drugs, I’m going to take it because Finn and River aren’t like that.”
Wren combs her fingers through her hair. “Obviously, Lils, but they’re not going to offer you anything—they’re too protective of you.”
“Don’t remind me,” Lily grumbles then squares her shoulders. “Come on; let’s stop standing around and being lame and go have some fun.” Then she throws her fist into the air and marches forward.
Wren and I trade a wary look, and I get the vibe she’s equally as unenthusiastic about being here as I am. So, why is she here?
That’s an excellent question. Maybe it’s just for Lily, but I feel like it might not be.
“You don’t like parties, do you?” I call out as we walk up the stairway toward the entrance.
As suspected, everyone I pass gawks at me. Or, more specifically, my outfit.
I do my best to disregard it and focus on talking to Wren.
“I don’t necessarily hate them!” she shouts as we step inside the house and into the foyer.
The place is packed, music is blasting from the DJ station, and furniture has been repositioned so that people can dance in the spacious living room in front of us.
“I just hate that there could always be assholes that ruin them,” she adds loudly over the music as her gaze sweeps the area. She’s looking for someone and spots them almost right away. “Come on. I want to introduce you to someone.” With that, she snags my hand and yanks me forward in the direction of where Lily is wandering to.
We have to push past people and squeeze up against walls, but eventually, we break through the mob and to a less crowded side of the room where a game of beer pong is going on.
And on one side of the table, a blond-haired, football god, I guess friend of mine, is holding a ball and talking shit with a guy on the other side.
“Now, this”—I point at the table—“is the only thing I’ve seen throughout the last couple of days that is familiar to me.”
She glances at me from over her shoulder. “Do you know how to play?”
I give a wicked laugh. “Dude, I’m from northside. It’s like a requirement to know how to play. In fact, they won’t even let you graduate high school unless you play a beer pong competition.”
She snorts a laugh. “You’re funny.” Then she almost instantly gets distracted. “Wait, where the hell did Lily go?”
I stand on my tiptoes and peer around, looking for a halo of blonde hair. “Oh, found her.” I point to the corner of the room where Lily is standing with her hand pressed against the chest of a guy with dark, chin-length hair.
Wren tracks where I’m pointing then frowns. “Oh, hell no, she did not just go after freaking James. I thought she learned her lesson the last time.” She marches forward, shoving people out of the way.
One of the girls she pushes stumbles and spills her drink all over her dress. She glares at Wren then at me, as if I was somehow part of it.
“What’s your problem, bitch?” she snaps as she wipes off her dress with her hand.
I open my mouth to say something that will probably result in a fight, but my words are cut off as Finn spots me and shouts out, “Hey, it’s my bestie.”
Great. Now everyone is staring at me like I’m a unicorn that has a horn growing out of my ass.
Finn makes his way over to me, his blue eyes shining with proof that he’s either drunk or a bit high. When he reaches me, he drapes an arm around my shoulders and smiles down at me. “You made it,” he says, all drunkenly smiley. He smells like mint with a splash of cologne and a hint of whiskey. His gaze scrolls over me. “You look so pretty.”
How is this guy for reals?
I angle my head toward him and put my hand on my hip. “Seriously?”
