Mr. Richards was careful with his words when I landed the job. The gate is to remain closed at all times, no exception. It wouldn’t be opened unless people needed to come in and out as they please.
My heart lurches up my throat as I pick up the pace.
What if Finn really set the house on fire?
That’s when I hear them.
The music.
The bass.
The voices.
The apocalyptic scenarios in my head go up in smoke, and I realize that even if Finn didn’t set the house on fire, it’s still going to be destroyed before the night is over.
Finally, I reach the top of the driveway and curse myself for thinking I could ever trust Finn Richards.
The bastard threw a party.
And I don’t mean a small gathering with a few friends.
I mean the mother of all parties.
There are cars everywhere on the property. They’re damn near piling up in the driveway, and there isn’t an inch of available space on the front lawn.
The same goes for drunk people, most of whom are stumbling in and out of the house with a drink in hand, searching for somewhere to barf. Red cups and all sorts of trash litter the yard, and the music is so loud I wouldn’t be surprised if I went to bed deaf tonight.
What.
In.
The.
Fuck.
My thoughts spinning out of control, I select Theo’s name in my messages and text him back.
Dia: Just got home. What the fuck is going on?
I know what is going on, but I still ask him, hoping he can help me make sense of this shitshow. How did Finn get so many people to show up?
Also, who the hell are all these people?
I don’t recognize most of the guests outside, although I do spot Lacey Mattson, one of Brielle’s cheerleader friends, flirting with some guy by the front door.
An older guy.
Much older.
The dude has to be over twenty-two. Why are college students showing up to a high school party? The questions hogging my mind vanish when it hits me.
Lexie.
Oh my God.
She hates loud noises. She must be scared to death somewhere. That’s all it takes for me to storm inside the packed house in search of her. If I thought the outside of the house was bad, I wasn’t ready for the clusterfuck that’s the first floor.
There’s glass everywhere in the entryway, probably from some wasted loser dropping his beer, and trash covers every flat surface in the living room.