I make my way downstairs and outside, and I lock up with the spare key. My chest is still heaving. I can already hear the faint vibrations of music from Rachael’s house, and I know it’s only going to grow louder as the night goes on, as more people arrive and as they get drunker.
As I’m crossing the street, a car pulls up full of guys that are complete strangers to me. But they can’t say the same about me, because one of them steps out of the car with a case of beer in his arms and catches my eye. “Eden, right?”
“Yeah,” I say. I don’t really stop walking; I just slow down slightly. I’m really not in the mood to socialize.
“I’ve heard about you,” the guy says, the smallest of smirks playing at his lips. He kicks the car door shut, the beer resting in one arm as he holds out his other hand for me to shake. “Tyler’s sister, right?”
I almost throw up. The word makes me feel nothing but disgust at myself, disgrace at the incestuous act I’ve just committed. I’m pretty sure it’s either illegal or immoral. The only thing I can murmur in reply is a quick “stepsister,” and a nod, and then I’m off again. I rush up to the front door and push it open, deafened as the music consumes me, but at least it drowns out the thoughts that are racing through my mind.
“Where the hell have you been, Eden?” Rachael yells across the hall to me from the living room. She waves her glass at me. I wonder what she’s drinking. When she approaches me, I can smell the booze from her as she speaks. “People are beginning to arrive and you only just turn up? Meg has been looking everywhere for you.”
“Sorry,” I say. It’s all I can say. “Where is she?”
“Making drinks.” Rachael bobs her head in sync with the music, her smile perking up into a wide grin. I suspect that she started drinking the second Tiffani and I left. “Go get yourself one!”
There’s a comfortable amount of people here, around fifteen or so, spaced out and thankfully mostly sober as of now. The rest will pile in over the next hour. And with everyone relaxed and calm, it’s easy to see them all clearly as I make my way through the house and into the kitchen. It’s here that I find Meghan. And, unfortunately, Tiffani. I can almost taste the bile again.
“Finally!” Meghan says, her dark hair framing her face as she bounces over to me. She, too, has definitely been drinking for a lot longer than twenty minutes. As she draws me into a hug, Tiffani rolls her eyes at me. I look away. “Here, take this!” She thrusts her glass into my hand, nodding enthusiastically before twirling back over to the counter to fetch herself a new drink.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know,” she says. The guys from the car enter, which draws Meghan’s attention away from me as she tells them where to dump their booze, and from the corner of my eye, I can see Tiffani smiling at me.
She edges through the new crowd that has formed, a wineglass in her hand and looking as sophisticated as ever in the white dress she’s wearing. The back of it reaches the floor. “Rachael and Meg have been driving me crazy,” she says, her tone light as she breathes a laugh. “They’re totally tipsy.”
“Yeah,” I say. My voice is weak. I can’t look her in the eye, but I do build up the strength to ask, “Is Tyler here?”
“He’s trying to shotgun as many beers as he can,” she explains, but her tone is disapproving as she stares out the kitchen window, watching the scene unfold. Hearing her talking about him only makes me feel all the more guilty, to the point where any second now I might just burst into tears. “I’m waiting for him to wear himself out and come back inside.”
My eyes drift over to the window, and I see two guys standing with a pile of beer cans around them. It’s Tyler and some other guy I’ve never seen before, and I watch for a few seconds as Tyler stabs a hole in the can with his car keys before pressing it to his lips and consuming its entirety within a matter of nanoseconds. And the two of them go on to repeat this. Over, and over, and over.
“Oh,” I say. I fix my eyes back on Tiffani, ignoring the guilt that keeps forcing its way into my head. I kissed her boyfriend. The words keep playing over in my mind, endlessly, as though I’m not already aware of what I’ve done. “Surely that can’t be good for them?”