Chapter 14: CHAPTER 14

"Yay! You guys made it!" Eliza flung the door wide, turning the outside hum of the party music blaring as we stepped inside.

After a flurry of hugs and kisses, she ushered us through the throng of dancing, hollering teenagers.

The beat of the music thrummed against my skin. Sweat tinged with fruity alcohol permeated the air. By the time we ducked into the kitchen I nearly sighed in relief. It was cooler here, quieter, with a spread of sodas and seltzers lined up beside a charcuterie board that looked like it belonged at a wedding.

Eliza tossed Amy a pineapple flavored hard seltzer and looked at me expectantly. "Which flavor?"

I shook my head. "Designated driver tonight," I declined.

"Suit yourself," she said, already dragging Amy toward the dance floor.

I watched their retreating figures with mild relief. Good. At least they didn't expect me to dance with them. I wouldn't know what to do other than make a fool of myself. Left alone, I fidgeted with the hem of my dress and took in the chaos around me.

The atmosphere was dimmed, with colorful lights dotting the dance floor in an array of violets, blues and greens. Ambient streaks of gold illuminated the lounge area where games of cards and cups littered the floor.

One table boasted hard liquor and juice mixers, another an ice cream machine peppered with oreos, gummies, and whipped cream. I had to hand it to Eliza, she definitely knew how to throw a party.

In the midst of all the fun and laughing, I couldn't help but feel out of place. Unconsciously, I retreated towards the wall and observed. Theodore and Cross were already surrounded, each with a girl in tow and others lingering for the chance to steal them at the switch of a song. David leaned over a precarious Jenga tower, while the cheerleaders floated everywhere like tossed glitter. Some of them I recognized, which perhaps I could spark a conversation.

Right as I was in search of other familiar faces a voice called out to me.

"Clara!" A blond figure stepped forward, her hair falling over her like a halo. Hilary. "I’ve been meaning to talk to you."

My forehead creased. Me? In all the years in high school I can't remember having a direct conversation with her, but I'll take that over standing awkwardly by the drinks.

"Hey," I said, smiling.

As she drew closer I realized she was not so much walking as she was staggering. She teetered to the right, precariously close to smashing the wall before her reflex kicked in and her hand took the impact.

"Um...are you okay?"

She stood straight-or at least straight compared to how she was before-and burst out laughing.

Immediately I could smell her breath, it reeked of alcohol.

"Of course I'm okay, you silly goose!" Another wave of laughter. She casually slung her purse back into place.

"Maybe you shouldn't drink anymore," I suggested, holding my hands out to help steady; already she was tilting to the left.

"Oh yeah, that! Well" She cut off abruptly, clamping a hand over her mouth. The sudden heave was all I needed to drag her through the nearest parted door – hopefully the bathroom.

She bowled over the porcelain, and I turned away, my face twisting into a grimace at the acrid stench filling the air. Ugh, gross.

"Don't drink the fruit punch," she croaked, one hand braced on the toilet for balance. After a few shaky breaths, she pushed herself upright and ran the sink.

A travel-sized mouthwash appeared from her purse. "If I hadn't lost so much in the game, I wouldn't have had to drink so much."

Yeah, based on the half full bottle this wasn't the first, and wouldn't be the last time she overdrank to the point of puking. Hilary gazed at me from the mirror's reflection, smile etched on her lips as if she didn't just vomit today's lunch.

"Well, since you were nice enough to help me, maybe I'll help you too." She applied a fresh coat of strawberry lipgloss and smacked her lips.

"Help me with what?" I asked, wary.

"You and Amy should be more careful about the things you say out loud."

My stomach twisted in unease. A warning. And not just for me, but for Amy as well. Was Amy telling someone else about our secret bet, or was Hilary ruffling feathers?

"It doesn't seem like you trust me." Hilary observed, placing the lip gloss back in her purse. "Good. As far as you know I could be lying to you, it's something I tend to do occasionally." She sighed, taking out small brush and fixing her blond mane to perfection.

When she finished, she zipped her purse and hooked her arm to mine, drawing me back to the party scene.

"Do it! Do it! Do it!" The loud cheer reverberated through the house. They pumped their fists to the center of attraction.

There, in the eye of the hurricane, stood Cross, downing a massive bottle of who-knows-what. His Adam's apple bobbed with each progressive gulp, and upon success, he dropped the bottle with a triumphant thump. The crowd rioted, an eruption of screams and stomps.

A person got a hold of the whipped cream and Swirled it in his mouth as a chaser. Based on the lessened grimace, the drink had a bitter aftertaste. And that would've been the end of it, except the person proceeded to smear it on his shirtless selflike a bow of congratulations.

Cross would've walked off to clean himself too, except he was held back by daring hands. Without provocation five girls licked the fluffy white substance off his bare chest and abs like he was the most delicious treat.

The guys were jumping, hooting while some girls pushed the licking ones aside to get a taste of their own. The man of the hour himself was laughing, his blue eyes dancing with amusement while his hair hung haphazardly. Shirtless, with his muscles glistening, and the faint glow of perspiration, he looked deadly handsome. A frustration I couldn't place made me frown.

"He's pretty hot, isn't he?" Hilary suddenly announced.

She gazed blankly at Cross's figure. There was no yearning or desire as was typical when girls observe him, merely clinical. Her eyes didn't only stay on him, they darted to random directions, as if searching for an object.

Or a person.

"He's good-looking, I'll give him that." I admitted, albeit a little grudgingly. "Not that it matters. He's not boyfriend material."

"He can be."

"Yeah, when hell freezes over," I murmured. I couldn't picture Cross being in a serious relationship with anyone. He just wasn't built for exclusivity.

Hilary's head gave the slightest tilt, pensive. "..Or when he's with a girl he actually wants." Tapping her chin, she seemed to come to a decision. "Here's my help to you: Cross has a collection of dolls, but some of them are broken. If you catch the one during second period, she's the one you should never let use your phone."

My mouth opened and closed, not fully understanding. "Uh-what?"

"Not what, but who." Stepping closer, her voice lowered to a whisper. "But be careful. Door is a tattletale."

I blinked fast, trying to piece her nonsense. From the little I could grasp, Hilary was warning me about a person. But it didn't make sense, a door?

"How could I...I can't see anything through a door."

"Yes, windows are quite helpful for that. Though in your case I suggest you cover yours."

Before I could think to process that any further, she made a grand gesture to the crowd, like a game show host declaring the next challenge. "Before it's your turn, it's someone else's." Her eyes glowed with anticipation. With her finger, she began pointing at different cheerleaders and sang, "Eeny meeny, miny, moe.." Ruby, Jasmine, Amy, Sammy. "...my mother told me to pick the very best one and you are it."

Her finger slid past Eliza before landing squarely on Kelly. She was talking to David, who had a rather flirtatious arm around her waist. He was all cool, calm, and collected while she was blushing, blubbering and breathless.

"Kelly." I mumbled, trying to make sense of all this. She was the sweetest of all the cheerleaders in my opinion. "What's going to happen to her?"

Hilary's countenance morphed into one of irritation. "Don't just look, Clara. Observe." With sudden impatience, she stepped behind me and gripped my shoulders, giving me a minor shake as if to focus me like a microscope.

My vision stirred past them to the shadowed figure less than five steps from their enjoined hands. A half drunk cup in her hand, crumpled, and not by accident, but by fury. She was not happy at the view of those two connecting, no matter how superficial it may be.

Ruby. She was David's last fling, a cheerleader who clung obsessively to him for weeks before he discreetly blocked her number. To the school it was a casual hookup that didn't work out, she chucked it to her friends as them "not being compatible" to avoid admitting the embarrassing truth. But I knew better, she was genuinely hurt by his silence.

As a girl myself, I could only imagine how painful it would be to see him lavishly give the attention he withheld to someone else.

Someone new.

"She shouldn't be jealous. David also isn't ready for a serious relationship," I said evenly. "But what does this have to do with...everything you've been telling me?"

By now the crowd had dispersed into groups of those writhing on the dance floor and others engaging in a round of juicy games that were sure to spark gossip for weeks. The latter of which Hilary looked more invested. She pulled me without hesitation. Trepidation gnawed the further I distanced from the comforts of the kitchen and progressed toward a familiar circle.

"Clara? You're at a party?!" Theodore exclaimed. My linked arms with Hilary were abruptly severed as Theodore bowled me over in the process of giving me a gigantic hug. "Where were you? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I kind of just got here," I said, not having the heart to tell him I did, in fact, see him – but didn't want to interrupt his dancing.

Because then he'd invite me. And I definitely didn't want to join. Because then eventually I'd be an awkward third wheel. Or be not-so-accidentally trampled on by an annoyed girl aiming for his attention. When the boys engaged in any flirting, I took a step back and did not interfere.

"Get off her, Theodore." A sharp voice cut through our embrace. "We have a game to start." Cross (thankfully wearing a shirt now) shuffled the deck like a dealer at a casino. His eyes appeared darker, intense as they locked on me while Hilary tugged me to a spot beside her on the floor. He never blinked, even as the cards whispered through his fingers in seamless cascades before slipping back together like fate itself.

The circle belonged to everyone, but he was the apex.

The hairs on my neck prickled. I looked away first,

but not before catching the curl of his smirk. In all

his ease Cross looked every inch the master player,

and I an ignorant bystander who fell right into his

game.