“This is Elise, Presley, Zara, and Amy. We went to high school together,” Paris said.
Elise had a lithe, dancer-type thing going on. She was pretty in all the obvious ways. Presley, though, had small features. A small nose, small mouth, and eyes close together. Still, when she smiled at me, it transformed her whole face.
I shook Zara’s hand, marveling that her unblemished tan skin was as soft as it looked. Long, dark hair ran down her back, and curled tighter the closer you got to the end. As for Amy, she had the same girl-next-door vibe that Paris gave off. Naturally, she fit right in with this gorgeous group.
“Guys, this is Rainey. She’s Bedlam-born, but homeschooled.”
“Ahh.” They all nodded like that explained everything.
To be fair, it did explain a lot. Bedlam had two elementary schools, two middle schools, and one high school. It was hard not to know everyone around here.
“Let’s go,” Presley whined. “Gunner should be doing Jell-O shots off me right now.”
“Gunner should be doing Jell-O shots off the dumpster lid that’ll protect his new home.” Paris hooked an arm through mine and marched me off with the group. “That guy’s the worst.”
“You say everyone’s the worst.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry. Assface is the reigning champion of jerks, but Gunner takes a close second.”
“You say that because you’re biologically programmed to be blind to how hot your big bro is,” Zara returned.
“I say that because he used to put his boogers in my hair.”
I stifled a snort, then marveled that Paris had made me do that.
I laughed? Two months, four days, and six hours, and it’s a snappy comment about boogers that finally makes me laugh.
I eyed Paris Keller out of the corner of my eye. Yes, she was definitely a dangerous distraction if she got me for one second to believe I was just another normal college girl.
I was silent on the walk across the shadowed campus, letting their inside jokes and unknown names wash over me. I was going to this party for one reason, and one reason only.
Pounding music reached our ears, leading the way as we rounded a building and arrived on scene with the dozens of people dressed like us. Blue, red, purple, and orange light bled through the blinds, casting its glow on those privileged enough to enter.
The people, the lights, the noise, the music—it rushed inside my head, filling to bursting.
I stopped dead, holding my pounding head as my heart raced to match.
I was here for one reason, and I couldn’t do it. What the hell was I thinking? I can’t do this. I can’t do any of it! I have to go now.
Spinning on my heels, I set off blindly, clutching my heaving stomach.
A hand grabbed my wrist. “Rainey, where are you going? It’s this way.”
“Rainey.” Suddenly Zara and Amy were in front of me. “We talked about ourselves the whole time. Narcissists. Tell us about yourself.” They threw their arms around me. Penning me in. Cutting off escape. “We’ll grab some drinks, find a spot inside, and grill you without mercy.”
“I... I...”
They led me up the steps and inside, closing the pine double doors shut behind me.
Taking a deep breath, I exhaled slow. It did nothing to calm my heart, head, or stomach. I had to get out of here. Out of this house, this school, this town, then—
Then what? a voice whispered. Drive to Chaney Bridge and jump off? Because there’s no way you’d be able to live with yourself.
Tears filled my eyes. It’s not fair.
“I didn’t ask for this.”
“Damn,” said Zara. “It’s only ten and this place is packed. Let’s go out on the porch. Paris, Rainey, get the beers.”
Orders given, Paris reclaimed my arm and tugged me after her. I stumbled behind, dizzy and fighting to breathe.
“Hey, you okay?” Paris leaned me against the kitchen counter. “You don’t look well. Want me to get you some water?”
I just nodded.
“Whoo! Yeah!”
My fingers dug into my temples. How were they getting even louder? I could barely think for the headache splitting my skull.
Paris returned, pulled away my hand, and pressed the cool bottle to my forehead. “I know what made you sick.”
I snapped up, eyes popping. “What? What are you talking about?”
She drifted over my shoulder. “That’s enough to turn anyone’s stomach.”
I followed her line of sight, eyes growing wider. Standing in the middle of the living room was a half-naked bronze god being doused with honey by the hooting crowd. A strange enough sight. Add to it the three girls rubbing and licking his pecs clean, I had a wild moment where I wondered if I was really stuck at some awful party and not tossing in my bed at home, tormented by endless nightmares.
The girls were really going to town—tonguing him all over like there was a prize at the end of the all-you-can-eat buffet.