“You’resofucking stupid,” I snap, shoving past him like he’s the one who crashed our party.
“She’s outside, Jainey. I didn’t let her in!” he calls after me, but I’m already gone.
I snatch a bottle of Hennessy from the counter without slowing down and storm out the front door. The lawn is still lit—music pumping, people laughing, tripping over their own feet with red solo cups sloshing in their hands. It’s a scene straight out of a frat scene, but I’m not starring in it anymore.
I blink hard, trying to clear my vision, my pulse hammering in my ears as I scan the crowd. Where the hell is she? Because if she really came all the way here to ruin my night, she better be ready.
Across the street, her black BMW M340i gleams under the streetlight. She steps out, stupid heels clicking sharp against the pavement, eyes locked on me. She meets me halfway; her face twisted in disgust.
“What do you want, Tracey?” I shout before she can open her mouth. “What the fuck are you even doing here?”
She jabs a finger in the direction of the bottle in my hand. “Look at you. Sloppy as ever. Stumbling drunk. You’re nineteen years old, throwing a house full of kids into this mess. You’re just asking to get hauled off in handcuffs huh? And for what? To play grown-up? To pretend you’re somebody that they’ll like? Are you really that desperate for friends?”
I smirk, tipping the bottle back and letting the liquor scorch my throat. “Don’t stand here and act like you give a shit about what happens to me. And if you really think that I give a fuck what you’re saying, you’re highly mistaken. You’re just mad you can’t control me anymore.”
Her lip curls into a snarl. “Control you? Sweetheart, nobody’s trying to control you. I’m trying to save you from becoming exactly what you are right now. A fucking embarrassment. Look at yourself—and I have to claim you as my daughter.” She rakes her gaze over me.
“Skirt too short, chest hanging out, bottle in your hand like it’s the only thing that loves you. You look pathetic.”
“Fuck you,” I spit. “You never wanted me to be your daughter anyways. Just fucking leave.”
She steps closer, lowering her voice so it cuts sharper. “Your brother told me about the boys you’ve been fucking around with. Everybody in town knows it. You think anyone's going to want you? No sweetie. They’re laughing at you, using you, because you’re easy. Just like I knew you’d be—a sloppy little whore who’ll sadly never learn how to keep her legs closed.”
My stomach flips, my chest aches, but I force myself to stand taller. “You can leave now. I don’t know why the fuck you’re still here talking. Like you said, ‘I’m grown’, so I can have sex with whoever I want.”
“Leave—you’re not welcome.” I repeat. “Next time you show up, I’ll call the police for trespassing.”
She laughs. “Trespassing? I’d have to actually want to step foot inside that dump for that. Don’t flatter yourself. I just wanted to see for myself how far you’ve fallen. And guess what? You didn’t disappoint.”
Her words linger like poison, clinging to the back of my throat. I spin away and take another long drink, not giving adamn if it makes me choke. Let it burn. Let it scorch. She’s been trying to set me on fire since before I can remember.
All my life, she counted down to the day I turned eighteen so she could wash her hands of me. And even now, living on my own, she still comes back just to tear me down further—like I’m not already trying to survive without her voice poisoning my thoughts every day.
I refuse to let her crush me anymore.
I march back inside heading straight to the kitchen, my jaw clenching. I’m not about to let her ruin my night. I lean against the counter, my head heavy between my shoulders, when I feel a small hand on my back. I turn to see Shay standing there in a sexy clown costume—white thigh-high boots, red painted nose, and enough judgment in her eyes to remind me we’re related.
“Hey, girl,” she says gently. “I saw your mom’s car. You okay? What the hell was she doing here anyway?”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Ruining my life. You know—the classic Tracey move. I shouldn’t even be surprised at this point. That’s her whole persona. But tonight I thought I’d be free of her bull shit. Guess she missed the memo.” I thought I would be the one causing the uproar tonight but turns out she already applied for the job.
Shay hops up onto the counter, grabbing a bottle of tequila, and pours us both a shot.“Don’t let her get to you girl,” she says, raising her glass. “It’s your life. She’s just a bitter guest in it. Remember that.” We clink our glasses, the sound tiny but grounding.
The tequila burns exactly how I need it to—hot enough to remind me I’m here, and not drowning in Tracy’s venom anymore. With a shaky breath, I push from the counter, grab my bottle of Hennessy, and head for the backyard. The music’s still loud and the laughter’s still wild, so that means there’s still time to forget.
Back outside, I spot Levy in the middle of the crowd, moving toTurn Your Clic Upby Future and Quavo, the bass rattling through the speakers. His body moves with the beat, shoulders loose, while people around him hype him up.
Then I catch sight of Arina. She isn’t laughing or dancing like the others, she’s planted near the far side of the yard. The glow from the string lights flickers across her face as she stands locked in conversation with a girl I don’t recognize.
The girl’s arms are crossed, her expression unreadable, and the two of them look out of place against the turmoil of red cups scattered in the grass. The look on their faces far too serious for a night like this.
Their eyes flick toward Levy—who’s still moving with the crowd at the center of the yard, dancing and laughing—and then back at me. Quick and intentional. My breath snags in my throat. I bring the bottle up and drink, longer than I need to. It’s obvious we’re the subject of whatever secret words are being passed between them. I catch their eyes lingering on me for a split second longer than I’d like. Even through the blur of my cloudy vision, I can feel the weight of it—sharp and almost accusing. But instead of stumbling toward them, I force myself to look away.
A tiny part of me wonders if she managed to sneak in a quickie while I was outside arguing with my mom. Maybe she’s had her fun already. Maybe that’s why she’s standing there now, looking all serious while I’m out here trying to keep my shit together. Well kind of.
I drag in a shaky breath, the alcohol hot in my throat, and try to shake it off. My heels wobble against the uneven grass as I step back into the center of the crowd, my body swaying with every bump of the bass. Voices blend into one loud, dizzying hum, lights smearing together until the yard feels like it’s spinning.
Levy’s pulling me in before I can fully steady myself. His grin is reckless, glowing under the string lights. His hands settle warm and firm on my waist, grounding me against the madness. I let myself sink into him—into the thump of the beat vibrating through my chest, into the dizzy blur of lights and laughter wrapping around us. Falling into his arms takes less effort than holding myself up.
