Puck The Halls | Jack Hughes

FOUR

MIRACLE
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WHEN JAKE SANCHEZ INVITED ME TO Luke Hughes house party, I was reluctant to go, to say the least. I knew the people in Luke's year level were the same ones I went to school with, and I knew Jake was my . . . Whatever you wanted to call it.

Situationship, my brain echoed, and I shook my head, convincing myself that what Jake and I had was special and totally not just another guy using me because he could, and me letting him.

Regardless, here I stood, in the entry hall of the Hughes household. This was the first time I'd been here in four years, and it was giving me major nostalgia. I avoided turning my head to the left, knowing the garage was there, and not wanting any memories to be allowed to flood in my mind.

The house was loud.

Music thumping from somewhere towards the lounge room, shouting coming from the kitchen, where there was no doubt a game of beer pong happening, and thumping coming from the hall upstairs, piquing my curiosity.

I wondered how these boys were getting away with throwing a house party, there was no way Ellen would let this happen if she were home. She must be away on business or seeing family in Michigan.

I hadn't expected the party to be of this level, and I was glad I brought myself a bottle of cheap red wine. I opened it in the hall, taking a swig straight from the bottle, all class going out the window as I braced myself for the shit fight I was no doubt about to walk into.

I texted Jake, wanting to find him, but didn't get a response, and I figured he was already drunk somewhere, most likely with Luke. My next best option was to find my best friend and Luke's girlfriend, America.

I made my way through the house like I owned the place, like I'd been there a thousand times, because I had. I'd spent a good chunk of my childhood in this house, and I knew exactly where everything was. I knew that if I went up the stairs to the right, that Jack's room was the first on the left, the only room with a connecting bathroom other than his parents.

I wondered if it still looked the same, if he still had posters of The Might Ducks on his walls or a picture of Selena Gomez as Alex Russo from Wizards of Waverley Place taped to his wall by his night stand. I wondered if he still had the birthday card I'd made him when I was ten, that had copious amounts of hearts drawn all over it.

Yeesh. I hope not.

I made my way into the kitchen, trying to find someone I knew—and tolerated. Hard work, in a house full of drunk people.

The first person I lay my eyes on is my brother, and his eyes catch mine with a scowl. I absolutely did not want to talk to him, nope. He still treats me like I'm five, and he'd no doubt scold me in front of everyone about being at a party with alcohol, and drugs, even though I was nineteen and going to college soon.

I turned on my heels, near running up the stairs, letting my self conscious guide me. I slammed Jack's bedroom door, knowing Trevor wouldn't think to look in here for the life of him. He never knew Jack and I had history, that Jack had once kissed me, that I loved him. As far as he was concerned, Jack felt the same about me as he did.

With my back pressed against the door and my chest pounding, I let my eyes scan his bedroom, pleasantly surprised to find that it was just as he left it, minus the Selena Gomez.

His bed was unmade, slept in, and I was slapped in the face instantly with the scent of vanilla and cologne, Jack's scent. It made my head spin, and I hated myself for breathing it in, indulging in it. I scolded myself, telling myself to snap out of it and stop being weird.