In Waves | ✔️

13 | debut

The last party I went to was Rachel's sweet sixteenth. Her parents rented out a gigantic event room at the fanciest hotel in town, there was a DJ and balloons and caterers. The major difference - parents and family came.

But now, an unsupervised house party with drinking and people going wild under dimmed lights? It feels more like a nightclub.

The air is heavy with the smell of spilt beer, the pumping music that courses through my blood, and the sense of possibility. A bottle of vodka is being passed around a packed kitchen, and I have to squeeze through a human wall to get to the living room where a rowdy group are taking turns doing keg stands.

A game of beer pong is underway in the corner, couples are getting up close and personal as they dance, others sardined on the couches, inhaling snacks, smoking on the deck outside. It's so loud my thoughts are fuzzy static, a constant beat vibrating through the floors.

Everything looks soft. The people, the furniture. If the main lights turned on, the harsh reality would be revealed - sloppy drunks and slobbering makeout sessions.

Rachel has been popping in and out while she greets new clusters coming in. She appears again through a gap, her satin dress almost luminescent in the dark.

"Here, drink!" She thrusts a red cup into my hand, taking the other and twirling me around to the music. "Harris texted. They'll be here soon!"

I give her a smile and take a sip from the cup, fizzy bitterness coating my tongue. Beer. There's been a handful of times I've drank alcohol, and they've always been with Rachel.

She smuggled in this fruity vodka stuff to our winter formal last year, ciders to her birthday, she's made gin and tonics while we lay by her pool this summer. Her parents are the kind of 'cool parents' who make mimosas with brunch and let Rachel have wine with dinner. So I'm not a total drink virgin, but I've definitely never been drunk. Maybe a little tipsy.

Courtney, Sam, and Jenna—a few of Rachel's cheerleader friends—squeal up to us and talk so fast it sounds like a gibberish, roping her into photos and complimenting each other's looks for the night. I feel way too underdressed next to their glammed up hair and makeup and designer clothes.

These three are known as The Trifecta. They're attached at the hip and even go so far as to hook up with the same guys, rotating through them like a cute top they take turns wearing. I quietly make my drink last as I watch them all.

Rachel's got her arm linked through mine, but her friends have barely acknowledged me through all their talking and giggles. I may as well be a sheet of sentient glass.

"Party's here, ladies!" Carter's voice cuts them off, and I buckle under his weight as he wedges himself in between me and Rachel, slinging his arms over our shoulders. The rest of my drink sloshes to the floor. "Rachel... Lia. Good to see you."

I duck under his arm to get away from his sleazy grin, bumping straight into someone else. Hands grasp my waist and turn me around, leading me to the only one who makes my knees buckle with no extra weight needed.

"Hi." Matt smiles. His hands are touching the exposed skin under my crop top, creating burning tingles.

I stand aside as he greets the others. Harris has Rachel in a massive bear hug from behind, Sean and Simone storm past in a heated argument, Carter is downing something out of a tall green bottle.

My eyes stop soaking in the room when Matt's fingers lace through mine, bringing me closer to him while he talks over the music.

The Trifecta take notice. One by one, like a row of dominos crashing to the realization. He's holding my hand tight, and all I hope is that my burning palm keeps its cool and doesn't get all sweaty on me.