off the steps when I see Jackson come into view.
“What’re you doing?” I gasp, righting myself as I walk towards him.
He doesn’t say anything, which isn’t uncommon. He only speaks when necessary, and directed at me, he’s only spoken a couple times.
Something as miniscule as acting what he’s doing doesn’t require a response, I suppose.
He just stares at me another beat before turning and walking in the direction Logan walked off to.
Whatever.
“You are so damn weird, Jackson.” I mumble. My eyes go wide when he halts his steps and I watch as his shoulders tense up. He stands there with his back towards me, then continues walking. Leaving me in the dark, by myself.
Alone, as always.
Now where was that fucking drink?
Later that evening, the room spins and I can’t feel my face. I should have cut myself off an hour ago, but drinking alone in a party full of people that are having a good time made me feel incredibly lonely. I haven’t seen Logan since he left me out on the front step, and he’s the one most likely to talk to me. Easton will talk to me, but he’s way too popular and can barely scrape himself away from the girls that flock to him constantly.
And Jackson is… Jackson.
Knowing it’s time for me to leave, I set my drink on the table next to me and heft myself to a stand. The room spins, and I close my eyes to stop the spinning.
Once I catch my balance, I walk towards the front door and ready myself to start the fifteen-minute walk home. I stumble down the steps and past a girl projectile vomiting in the nearby bushes.
“Gross.” I mumble, knowing more than likely that’s going to be me within the next few hours. I don’t normally drink this much. Actually, at all. I rarely come to parties and no sense in drinking at home alone.
The girl turns to me and wipes her mouth. “What the fuck are you looking at?” She says moments before gagging and sticking her face back in the hosta plant in front of her.
The sounds make my stomach turn, so I high tail it out of there and away from the chaos behind me. I’m not too disappointed that I’ve never came to these parties now that I actually went to one. They’re actually lame. Everyone just drinks and smokes and sits around in their usual cliques they’re in at school. It was actually like I was at school, and that’s just terrible.
“Hey.” A voice grumbles behind me once I’m at the end of the driveway. I look over at a nearby car as a long body folds out of an old sedan.
Derek.
With his short hair and chiseled cheek bones, he’s one step below the guys in terms of looks. He could probably fit in their group if he wanted, and maybe he’s tried before. They all seem chill with each other, but for some reason, it’s never happened.
I lift my hand in a limp wave. “Hi.” I turn away to keep walking, because Derek has never approached me before unless it was required for some assignment in school.
“Where you headed off to?” He stumbles after me, clearly as intoxicated as I feel.
“Home.” I mumble, exhaustion hitting my bones and each step becoming a chore. If I could lay down on the concrete in front of me, I’d happily sleep here.
“Why you leavin’? Not havin’ a good time?” He finally catches up to me, his long legs about double the length of mine are. Pressing a hand on my shoulder, he halts my steps and makes my entire being tense up.
I step out of his hold. “I drank too much. And I’m late. My mom’s probably waiting for me.” The lie flows off my lips like butter, but for some reason it felt necessary to put that bit in.
He scoffs at that. “Isn’t your mom like, a bar whore, or something?” He chuckles.
I frown at him. “Fuck off.” I turn to leave, and he wraps his strong fingers around my wrist.
“Sorry. Sorry, my bad. It’s just, I’ve never had the chance to talk to you before. Not without getting my balls chopped off.”
“What do you mean? You can talk to me. You just never do.” The revelation of the guys threatening guys if they wanted to date me is one thing, but talking to me? Come on.
He shakes his head, his glazed-red eyes lazy and unfocused. “No, I can’t. No one can. They’d probably