Flaming Hearts

Chapter 17

I barely finished the beer before I started coughing and gagging. The liquid tasted awful and I didn't understand why anyone would ever want to drink it.

Still, it took the edge off, and helped me to loosen up.

Fifteen minutes later I'm out dancing with a guy whose name I can't recall. But he has light hair and dark brown eyes, and is smiling at me.

We clumsily move to the music, probably looking extremely stupid to anyone else watching us.

Tired, I lean my head against his chest, still moving my body to the beat. I honestly think I probably look like a three year old trying to dance right now but whatever.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out.

Callie: Hey, Greg got really sick and he needs someone to take him home. Do you think you can catch a ride with Rachel?

Ah, Greg. Callie's ex who she dumped shortly after seeing him making out with some foreign exchange student who left shortly after the incident.

I quickly type back my reply.

Sure. But Callie, don't do anything stupid. He's no good for you.

I put my phone back in my pocket before she can reply, ignoring it when it buzzes again.

I slink my arms around the guy's neck, and smile up at him.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

"Yeah- my friends ex got sick and she had to take him home. No biggie," I blithely reply.

He looks at something over my shoulder and frowns.

"Who is that guy staring at me like he wants me dead?" he asks.

I turn and look over my shoulder, my eyes landing on Troy.

"Ah- that's my ex, kind of. We're on a break," I giggle. I think I'm a little tipsy.

"What happened?"

"Stuff. Stuff happened," I state, my voice serious all of a sudden. "So, what's your name?"

"Bret- my name's Bret," he states, obviously fairly drunk. "And you are?"

"Ariel," I pipe, swaying my hips from side to side. "I love this song!"

Moves Like Jagger by Maroon 5 blares over the speakers, and I start jumping up and down, mimicking everyone else on the dance floor.

"You're cute," I observe, a wide, drunken smile sprawling over my face.

"You too," he replies, brushing the hair out of my eyes.

I giggle, and cautiously turn to look over my shoulder for Troy.

When I see him, my breath hitches.

He's sitting on a leather armchair, Hillary in his lap. And they are in the middle of a very heated make out session.

"I feel like I might be sick," I mutter, instantly sobering up. I turn to Bret. "I've got to go."

I take off out of the room and the house altogether. Once I'm in the front yard I fall down into a lawn chair and pull my knees to my chest, burying my face into my knees.

I can't stop the tears that start to fall, moistening my jeans. I need to get home. I can't go with Rachel- Hillary is riding with her and I can't face Hillary right now.

I have to get home.

Against my better judgement, I pull out my phone and dial Colton.

"Hello," he croaks, his voice tired as if I just woke him. I wouldn't be surprised if I did. It's about midnight right now.