My parents weren’t oblivious to anything I did. In fact, they were damn laid back and lenient when it came to me. Some would say too lenient, especially when it came to Dax. I just…had kind of wanted some space from him. He’d been away at his dad’s the past two weeks and I still felt like I could use a break.
Yeah, from him. Forever, a small voice whispered. I ignored it.
I wasn’t sure if it was right or if I wanted to deal with the look on my parents’ faces when I told them. They adored Dax like the son they never had. Audrey, however, would rejoice.
Friends by default meant they tolerated one another. The two of them weren’t exactly on the path to becoming best buds. Like this party I was unsure about.
I was supposed to be here unpacking for the day, but I knew if I said I wanted to go out, Mom and Dad wouldn’t care. They’d just tell me be safe and call if I was going to be late. See. They were pretty cool, right? Which is why I’d never taken their trust for granted or abused it.
For example, if I started doing drugs or got knocked up, my mother would kick my ass and lock me away until I was thirty. Father would massacre all other parties.
Losing both to the justice system wasn’t worth it.
So, aside from some green every now and then, I stayed far away from all other substances and made sure I never missed a dose of my birth control.
Just the thought of birthing a child made me shudder and break out in hives. I was only eighteen, but that was old enough for me to be convinced I’d only ever be a super-cool auntie to Audrey’s kids and have zero of my own. I’d be good with a fleet of dogs.
I looked around my room at all the boxes I still needed to unpack and began mapping out a plan of action. “Where’s the party?” I asked Audrey.
“Somewhere magical.”
“Really?” I droned. “I could just ask Dax, you know?”
“He won’t tell you either. Now get your shit together and meet me at my house. We need to prep,” she commanded. I started to protest but she was already hanging up. I really hated it when she did that.
“Bitch,” I huffed, navigating back to my inbox to read Dax’s messages.
Saturday, July 22nd, 2019
Dax: Hey. I’m home. 4:45 PM
Dax: What R you doin 2night? 5:31PM
I frowned at the screen. Shouldn’t he know what I was doing?
Me: The same thing you are.
I text him back and then hopped up to begin the search for one of my duffel bags.
When I got to Audrey’s, I parked my Soul beside her Macan, noting her mother’s car was absent from the driveway.
She was probably at some HOA meeting or gathering all the ingredients to bake cookies for the first PTA get-together. I loved her like a second mom, but the woman was more than a little hands-on when it came to stuff like that.
I didn’t bother knocking, and since my friend had an issue locking her damn door, I was able to walk right inside. Chilled air and silence greeted me, the clinical colors of the house amplifying both.
I kicked off my flip-flops and made a beeline for the stairs, jogging up them with my tote bag slung over my shoulder. The swirled marble floor was cold beneath my feet. I preferred a more simplistic look—not that I would ever live in a house this big or be wealthy enough to make that decision.
My steps carried me to a solid white door that had rap music blasting from the other side of it.
Again, I didn’t bother knocking. I flung it open and grinned at the sight of Audrey practically naked in front of her floor-length mirror.
Hazel eyes found mine and her face lit with a smile.
“What do you think?” She pointed one manicured nail at her honey blonde locks.
“About what?”
“Um, my hair.”
I lifted a brow and stared at her. “Audrey, it literally looks the same as it always does.”
She gasped as if I’d offended her and turned around, hands on her hips. “Do you know how long I spent curling this shit?”
“Not too long, I hope.” I laughed, walking towards her massive canopy bed.
“Whatever. What did you bring to wear? Because I love you and everything, but what the hell do you have on?”
“You mean this isn’t what’s in right now?”
I ran a hand down my body, cupping my right cheek where a faded imprint of the word Juicy sat.
“It was fashionable for our mothers. That’s where you got them, isn’t it?”
I scoffed. My mom was the size of a twig with zero assets. I on the other hand had plenty of both. We looked nothing alike. Sometimes I swore I’d been adopted or something because I didn’t really look like Dad either. And then there was the most obvious difference between us, being that they both looked nothing other than white.