The Boy Next Door

Chapter Twenty

It was late, and the streets were empty. Scared of the dark, my mind ran awry, seeing imaginary, frightening things in the bushes beside me. I walked fast, and the following eerie noises made me walk even faster, to the point my feet were burning.

My phone stayed silent, I had left the house ten minutes ago, and no one had noticed. Maybe I should go home? I shouldn't have snuck out; it was stupid, I thought.

Stopping, I hesitated and told myself to turn around and go back. But the smallest part of me kept me walking, wanting to experience a house party at its best; at the popular boy's house.

When I turned onto the street, and the laughter echoed, my stomach flipped. Looking up at the large house, I anxiously twiddled my hair, seeing how busy it was as silhouettes filled every window. I knew Lewis's family was well off, but I didn't expect his house to be so big.

I took a deep breath and apprehensively walked towards the front door, not bothering to knock, as people were everywhere. Entering the first-ever house party I'd attended, I hoped it would be as good as the films made out.

I didn't make it a few steps inside before seeing someone throwing up in a house plant, making me heave. I then realised I'd shown up so late that everyone would be drunk, and I was stone-cold sober.

Drinking hadn't even crossed my mind.

My chest suddenly tightened, and my vision blurred as the bottle of vodka I had last consumed flashed into my mind. I couldn't breathe, and I was panicking. Olly was right; a party was a bad idea.

"Ashley, is that you?" I heard over the god-awful rap music.

Calming myself, I turned around, "Hi, Lewis," I loudly said, swallowing hard.

"What are you doing here? I didn't think you wanted to come?"

Gesturing to my ears with a shrug, I shouted, "What? I can't hear you."

Lewis stepped closer to me, "I didn't think you wanted to come."

I looked at him and furrowed my brows, "Why wouldn't I want to come?"

"Olly said you didn't." Olly's lie aggravated me.

"I didn't know anything about the party until a few hours ago," I said. "Olly didn't tell me."

"Oh."

I shrugged my shoulders and looked around for Olly. Yet, all I saw was one massive, trashed house. People crowded the once cream leather sofas, drink spillages dripped, and crunched crisps trailed the carpet.

"Oi, dick head," Lewis shouted. "No smoking in the house. Get outside." He pointed as a cloud of smoke trailed behind a group of lads I didn't recognise, all dressed in black with tattoos and piercings.

I couldn't recall anyone like that at Bailey, and the more I looked around, the more I felt out of place.

Lewis tugged my arm and said, "If you're looking for Olly, he isn't here."

"What?" I shouted, but I couldn't hear him. The drunken rabble laughing and yelling over unbearably loud music was all that filled my ears. Glass suddenly smashed, a scream let out, and Lewis quickly disappeared.

"Lewis," I shouted though it was pointless.

I stood in the crowd. I didn't recognise anybody, not the group playing drinking games, the couples making out, and those dancing.

Where was Olly, and what was I to do now?

My hands trembled at my irresponsible decision, lost in a house with no familiar faces, wishing I hadn't turned rebel.