Behind Your Walls

17 | where do we go?

I look at him for what feels like hours before breaking the silence with the only words I can find suitable for the current situation. "He's not my boyfriend."

"That's one good thing then," Carter says before dropping his hand and turning around to start walking again. "We're getting late, snippy."

I groan, frustrated at my luck as I follow him. No matter how much I beg, he doesn't stop whistling the tune the entire way.

***

Carter stays guard far away until Stephen picks me up at the bus stop. When a white Audi stops in front of me, a window at the back rolls down to reveal Stephen dressed in a white shirt and black trousers. He greets me with a toothy smile and I return it with a bigger one; bigger because I don't feel like smiling at all.

Before I am about to get inside the car, I take a look at Carter who has disappeared. He will be there at the party but I don't know who he will come with and I feel a pang in my heart at the thought.

"You're the first girl who didn't trust me with her address," Stephen says with a laugh when we are close to the venue.

"It's nothing like that. My mom's not a fan of boys."

I am not even surprised at how I have adapted myself to lying. I get better day by day. The truth is, I didn't want Stephen to show up some other day at my house only to realize that I lied to him about where I stay. If it ever spills out that I am crashing with Carter, we will become the gossip of the school. If I hate anything more than Panther in this world, it is the fear of being the topic of gossip.

Stephen and I talk about school and by the time we reach Cherry's mansion, we are comfortable enough to be together for the rest of the night.

Cherry's mansion is a huge, contemporary-style living space with a large area of garden occupying the front, and loud music from the speakers inside that can be heard outside.

When we head in, we are greeted by a crowd of teenagers dancing, kissing, and drinking soda mixed with whiskey. The whiskey is kept hidden and only given to those who ask for it. I don't find Cherry anywhere which disappoints me because she always blends in her own parties like Jay Gatsby from The Great Gatsby.

Stephen and I squeeze our way through the throng of people until we reach the dance floor. Stephen looks around, appearing confused, and it makes me laugh. He raises an eyebrow at my reaction before he pulls me towards him. I gasp when our bodies collide and I find him holding me to him with his arms around my waist. Pop music plays above us along with disco lights matching the beats.

"What's so funny, my lady?" he chuckles, swaying our bodies together.

"Nothing," I say, wrapping my hands around his neck as I sway with him. "You just don't seem to be very used to high school parties."

"Can't blame me." He twirls me around and brings us back together. I am not much of a dancer but Stephen seems to have learned his steps well. He guides me while we talk. "I was never allowed fun. My days consist of being the perfect son and basketball."

"Did you try out for the team?" I ask while he pulls me towards him only to let go and twirl me around again.

"I did. Still need to hear from your coach."

"Kyle's our captain. He's amazing at the game," I chirp, recalling all of Kyle's past victories.

He is a hero in the court. The team worships him for his skills and he is Coach Scott's favorite.

"Haven't met this Kyle yet. I hope he's good to me if I do get in."]

Stephen laughs at his words and I join him. Kyle will be welcoming to him as long as he doesn't prove to be better than Kyle himself.

The ring of his phone breaks us apart and he pulls me with him out of the dance floor. He pulls out his phone from his pocket to answer it. The sound of the music makes it impossible to hear him and I don't think he hears the person at the other end either.

"Have to take this. It's urgent. I'm going outside. Will be back soon!" Stephen shouts close to my ear and I nod, letting him head out.

Suddenly conscious of being alone, I look around the room and find familiar faces in the dark when I observe closely but none spark my interest. For someone who loves staring at people, I find no one as interesting to observe as Carter Bell who doesn't seem to be anywhere.

I head over to the drinks counter and pick a soda, making sure it doesn't stink of whiskey before taking a sip. After the dance, the drink feels relaxing. I walk around with the cup as I wait for Stephen.

The current song ends and another one starts creating a change in the couples on the dance floor. I lean against a wall with my drinks as I watch them dance.

It is a slow song — a romantic one from a language I don't quite understand but the music is good. The couples dance to it. Boys and girls, boys and boys, girls and girls, and even people who want to just show off their dance moves, not caring that they are dancing alone. I smile as I watch them. A part of me wants to be one among them — to dance with someone I really want to.

Someone like Carter.

My drink is pulled away from my hand and I snap back into attention to find Carter standing in front of me. He gulps down my drink and throws the cup on the floor. His hair is messy, very unlike how he left the house; the top three buttons of his shirt are undone and I instantly spot the lipstick mark on his neck. The pang in my heart becomes a painful, sharp sting.

"Carter," I say his name but he holds my hand and pulls me towards him.

I press my palms on his chest as he leans down until his lips are brushing my earlobe.

"Help me, Am..." he whispers, making my body shiver when his hand reaches under my crop top and he caresses my bare waist with his cold fingers.

The smell of alcohol stinks from him. He is completely drunk.

"Carter..." I whisper too, trying to push him away.

"Please, Am....help me."

"Help you with what?"

I find a little anger fueling my voice, making me sound harsher than I intended to. I feel cheap but after seeing him with that lipstick mark, I don't want to talk to him.

"Nothing makes me feel good anymore....help me..." he mumbles, his hot breath fanning my cheek. "I think I'm losing myself."

"To what?"

My hands reach his shoulders and I grab his shirt, making him pull back to look into my eyes.

"To you," he says before he leans down again and presses our lips together.