“It’s not,” she admits, shrugging. Her frown deepens as she takes a sip of her wine and it almost morphs into a grimace. I find her drinking wine unusual. It’s as sophisticated as the dress, and they combine to create an elegant aura that I simply can’t compete with. She looks like an adult compared with me. “He’s so annoying. Why’s he standing out there getting drunk? He’s supposed to be in here with me.”
I think I know why Tyler is on the verge of liver damage and alcohol poisoning. If his head’s as big a mess as mine is, then booze really is the only way to distract himself. I’d resort to it too, but I’m too concerned about the fact that I might throw up, so I just fake a smile to Tiffani and head out of the kitchen with Meg’s drink still in my hand. I’m not in the mood to drink and socialize and dance anymore, so I discard it the first chance I get. I focus my attention, instead, on Rachael. She’s way too happy and way too twirly and way too spinny. It’s like the alcohol has gone straight into her bloodstream, so I find myself falling into the role of babysitter for at least an hour.
“I’m totally sober, Eden,” she pathetically tries as I haul her up from the ground for the hundredth time. She’s struggling to maintain her balance as she prances around on the wooden floor in her platform heels, and every few minutes she just slides straight down into a heap.
I steady her again, rolling my eyes as she waves me away. “Of course you’re sober.”
“I can take it from here,” a voice says rather loudly from over my shoulder, and someone reaches out for Rachael’s arm. They catch her just before she takes another tumble.
“Trevor!” she quite literally screams. Throwing her arms around him, she almost dislocates his neck before smothering his cheeks in kisses. He throws me a thumbs-up from beneath her embrace, and I can do nothing more than pray for him. Rachael’s a nightmare tonight.
Relieved of my guardian angel duties, I swivel my sober self around to ease my way through the large crowd—everyone must be here by now, and the house is packed and stuffy—but a large figure steps in front of me. It’s Jake, with his stupid eyes and his stupid hair and his stupid smile.
“Where’ve you been, stranger?” He chuckles as he throws an arm over my shoulder and takes a sip of his beer. I can feel him pulling me to the side. “I’ve been calling you all week.”
Admittedly, I have been ignoring his constant texts and calls all week. All I’ve been thinking about is the Maxwell Base. “Sorry, I’ve been super busy,” I lie. I’ve spent the week reading and working out. And kissing my stepbrother. “When did you get here?”
“Twenty minutes ago!” He has to yell over the noise of the music, his voice loud and clear and annoying. The corners of his lips pull up into a smile as he leans toward me, his breath tickling my skin as he moves his mouth to my ear. “Remember my parents have been out of town since Thursday,” he murmurs. It’s a little slurred. “You can come home with me tonight. Stay at my place.”
I’ve heard enough about him by now to know that I don’t want to get involved, that I don’t want to be just another girl he can add to his list. “No thanks,” I say, smiling. Maybe if I’m sweet about it, he won’t care. “I live twenty feet away. It’s easier to just go home.”
He looks a little agitated when I say this, but he quickly shakes it off. “Well,” he says, “at least chill out with me. I’ll get you a drink.”
“I don’t want a drink.” My tone is blunter than it was when I was talking to Tiffani. Right now, I’m too distracted and too confused and too mad at myself to even put in the effort to be nice to anyone. “Sorry, Jake, I’m just a little sick. I’m not in the mood tonight.” This is partially true, and it’s the only excuse I can think of to get him to leave me alone.
“Okay.” Taking a swig of his beer, he shrugs and heads off.
The people around me are all slowly crossing the tipsy borderline, and the more people stumble over, the more making out there seems to be. I also notice that Rachael and Trevor are nowhere in sight. I can place a bet on where they are.
So while they are upstairs doing whatever it is that Rachael and Trevor do, I take it upon myself to make sure the house is looked after, since I seem to be the only one sober enough to do so. I occupy my mind by pulling the passed-out girl out of the bathtub. I distract myself by cleaning up the spilled drinks. I focus on handing out water to the guy who’s throwing up in the backyard. And all of this works pretty well to help me forget about what happened with Tyler.
Until I see him for the first time in three hours.
As I’m picking up empty cups from the bottom of the stairs, he stumbles straight past me. He is completely gone by this point, intoxicated beyond imagination as the alcohol floods his veins. He bends over as he falls to his knees and presses his palms to the floor. For a long moment, he stares at his fingers as his head sways back and forth.