“No,” he replies honestly. “I probably would have. But at least I’d know. If I was going to mess everything up, at least it would have been a conscious choice.”
It makes perfect sense to me. He may not revel in the pain he caused himself but at least he could say that he chose it. That’s not the only thing that haunts him, though. There’s a question there, too. The slim, slight possibility that, just maybe, he wouldn’t have done it. Maybe if he hadn’t been so wasted things might have turned out differently, and he would be with Tierney right now, not in a girls’ bathroom being haunted by dead possibilities.
He shrugs in resignation. “I figure the next time I want to completely destroy all chance of happiness, at least I’ll remember doing it.” It’ll make the self-loathing that much easier.
***
I could say that I have no idea why I agreed to this, but it would be a lie. I miss Drew, too. And I’m sick of myself. I’d rather drink flat beer and hang out with people who don’t like me. No one at that party will hate me as much as I hate myself, so it’ll be an improvement.
It’s crowded already when we get to Kevin Leonard’s house. The music is blaring and I wonder how long this can possibly last before the neighbors call the police. I hope they do, so I can leave, because I already regret it. I don’t mind all of the people. I actually do better with crowds and numbers but the noise makes me edgy. I need the quiet to hear what’s coming.
I follow Drew through the house, my fingers threaded through his belt loops so I don’t lose him. He wants me on him tonight, I’m on him.
Damien Brooks finds us first and I can’t stand him but he’s at least familiar.
“Drew!” He’s already drunk. One word and it’s evident. “Damn. I know you had her first but I didn’t think you’d go back there after Bennett. Man, you’ve got balls.” He’s laughing and congratulatory. Drew’s laughing, too. I’m not even in the room. Oh, wait. I am, but you wouldn’t know it the way they’re talking. Good thing I don’t give a shit.
Then Damien’s eyes go wide like he’s just discovered the atom or the concept of self-pleasure. “Have you guys been sharing her this whole time?”
Maybe I do give a shit. At least a little. Because I’m not listening to this anymore. I grab Drew’s hand and start to pull away. I think he’s had enough, too, because he doesn’t fight me.
And then there’s Tierney. The sniper I’m being used as a human shield against. I actually really like her and I wish I wasn’t the person being tasked with keeping Drew away from her. I don’t blame her for wanting to hate Drew, but it doesn’t mean she does. All of a sudden I wish they could just get their shit together, but my hypocrisy slaps me in the face before I can think any more on the subject.
We make it to the kitchen at the back of the house where Kevin Leonard is manning a keg with a crowd surrounding it. They start chanting Drew’s name like he’s their god, and I guess if I was a teenage boy with no game, he’d be mine, too. It takes no time before we have cups full of warm beer and are fighting our way back out of the kitchen.
An hour and four and a half crap beers later, I’m leaning against a wall while Drew talks to a girl in a very tiny, very sparkly top, who has no problem shamelessly flirting with him in front of me. True to form, Drew is still carrying around the same half-full cup of beer he’s had since we walked in. I’m not completely trashed, but I’m tired and I want to go home. I’m tipsy enough that my brain isn’t bombarding me with a diatribe on how idiotic I am. Instead it’s whispering that calling Josh wouldn’t be so bad. Drunk dialing the perfect, incredible, wonderful boy I pissed all over might even be enough to win me a gold medal in selfishness. I don’t get to fully explore that thought, though, because I’m back on duty.
Tierney starts walking in our direction and sparkly tank top girl walks away. Tierney’s like that. No one really f**ks with her and I want to hug her and tell her I think she’s sooooo awesome and maybe I’m a little drunker than I thought. I didn’t eat today which might account for that. Rookie mistake.
I step over to put my half full beer on a really ugly end table (I notice these things now); I don’t need to drink any more. Once I can pull Drew away from Tierney, I will have fulfilled my responsibilities and I can get him to take me home.
When I turn around, Drew isn’t there. And neither is Tierney.
I start pushing my way through the throng of people, looking for either of them. I figure one will lead to the other, but it’s not like I can walk around yelling their names and asking if anyone has seen them. I’m staying against the wall, out of the center of the chaos, when Kevin Leonard finds me.
“Enjoying the party?”
Huh? Is he expecting an answer? I give him a stupid thumbs-up and try to keep walking. Drew Leighton so owes me something for this. I start mentally making a list of what I want. There’s only one thing on it, so far, but I think it’s out of his control.
“Wanna have sex with me?” Kevin asks. This was not the one thing on my list. I try to walk around him and his monstrous ego. He’s obviously plastered and I’m getting more sober by the minute. I really want to go home and I want to kick Drew’s ass. I’m not sure which of those things I want more right now and Kevin Leonard is still talking.
“We can go to my room. I blocked off the upstairs. No one will know.”
I’ll know, jackass. And I’ll spend the rest of my days trying to block it from my memory.
“Come on, baby.” Guess that’s my answer. Real boys do call girls baby. Too bad I don’t feel like laughing and I don’t have time to choke him. “Please.”
Does he think I’m looking for manners now? Well, since you said please, I may have to reconsider my previous hell no stance on screwing you. I was just waiting for the good breeding to kick in. I shake my head as definitively as I can and keep moving. Mercifully, he gives up and doesn’t follow me.
He did give me an idea, though, because if I can’t find Drew in the next ten minutes, I’m not waiting around to be propositioned again. I’ll find another way home.
The next ten minutes are as fruitless as the last. I even give it another ten, just for shits and giggles, before I finally concede defeat. I walk the downstairs, and at least a few people have started to filter out so it’s not as jam-packed, but the music is still tattooing itself on my eardrums and splitting my brain. I shoot off a text to Drew asking where he is but I don’t get any response. I send him another one telling him I’m sneaking upstairs to try to find a ride. I still don’t get an answer.