“Come get my other leg,” Finn yells, his hands gripping the top of the keg.
Brady and Austin leave to help Finn. I’m laughing at the spectacle, watching Finn do a keg stand with Brady’s help. I know better than to take a picture, in case it were found by my mother, so I settle for committing it to memory.
I’m still laughing to myself when a sharp nail jabs my shoulder. I turn, and one of the blondes is a few inches away from me, her glossy lips pinched.
“You should leave,” she says when I meet her eyes.
“Excuse me?” Maybe I didn’t hear her right.
“You don’t belong here. This party is for Trinity kids. Not sluts from AM.”
“I’m…I’m…” My sputtering pisses me off as much as this girl’s words.
“You obviously fucked your way here, and now you’re trying to get with Austin. Did you go through all the boys at AM and now you’re moving on to the rich boys?”
Fire lights up my core. “Yes, that’s just it. And I’m glad I met you, because it’s obvious you’ve spent plenty of time on your back. Maybe you can tell me who to start with.” My voice is a snarl by the time I reach the end of my sentence.
“You fucking bitch!”
Her yell draws the attention of all the people within twenty feet of us. Inside, the music rages on, but around us, it’s instantly quiet. Then the girl reaches out, and yanks.
On. My. Hair.
I shove her, hard, right back into her circle of friends. Suddenly there are hands around my waist. Brady and Finn surround me, their faces filling my vision. They both hold me.
Brady spins us around, so my back is to the girl.
“Maybe you should go,” he says, glancing from me to Finn.
My mouth drops open.Me?I should go? But... I’mme. She’s temporary. A blip in time.
Finn winds a hand through mine, tugging me away from Brady and into his chest. He shakes his head, and says, “And here we were, thinking you aren’t capable of making mistakes.”
Finn pulls me back through the crowd, and even though I don’t want to, I look back. Brady stares after us, the look on his face unfathomable.
14
Now
“I like your hair this way.”Brady reaches out and pushes around the floppy bun on top of my head.
I give my head a little shake, causing the bun to flop around my head wildly. Brady laughs.
“Welcome to chaos.” I stretch out one arm toward the rest of the house.
“Chaos is my specialty.” Brady steps through the front door, pausing once he gets inside. He surveys the tidy living room, then turns to me, his eyebrows raised.
“Not in here,” I explain. With one finger, I point above my head. “Up there.”
Brady nods. “Help is here now. Where do you want me to start?”
“I’m halfway finished with her bedroom. Come on.” Turning, I lead the way upstairs.
When we get to my mom’s bedroom, Brady sees what I mean by chaos. The clothes from her closet lie stacked on her bed, her drawers have all been pulled out and emptied, their contents in piles on the floor.
Brady whistles, low and slow.
“I know,” I agree, stepping deeper into the mess and navigating around piles of shoes. “I need you to hold open bags while I put stuff inside.”
