Popularity Contest

18

Time passes slowly or maybe that's just how it feels through my eyes. We found empty chairs somewhere and Eva's sitting on my lap. We're laughing about something but I honestly can't remember.
There's two guys standing in front of us, I don't know who they are and I don't know where Kam and Frankie are. Something washes over me and I'm full of alarm. I start to sit up and realize I can't because of Eva.
"What's up?" She asks me.
"I don't know, I just have to get up."
"Ok, hold on," Eva says, starting to get up but she's taking too long.
I practically push her off of me but when I get to my feet I can't hold myself up. I stumble before I even move my feet and one of the guys catches me.
"Easy now," he says, his voice sending chills through me and not the good kind. "I might have to get this one home."
The other guy snickers and even in my inebriated state I can tell this isn't good.
"Wyatt," I say. "Wyatt's taking me home."
"Langford?" Asks the other guy. "I don't think he's worried about you sweetie."
I try to scan the area to find Wyatt but my vision is blurry and the fire distorts everything. I'm sure this guy probably means he left with some other girl and now we're stranded here.
I realize I'm still in some random guys arms and I reach out for Eva.
"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll take you to Langford," the guy says before basically carrying me away.
I hear footsteps following and can only hope it's Eva. I really don't want to be alone with this guy.
We stop after only going a short distance. "Has this one been claimed yet?" The guy bellows.
In seconds I feel a pair of hands on my face. My eyes shift and Wyatt's face comes into focus.
"Quinn," Wyatt breathes, concern in his eyes. "What happened?"
"Nothing," I say, feeling like a child being doted on.
"Shit, I guess he does know you, sweetheart," says the guy still holding me.
"Let go of her, Tim," Wyatt orders.
I feel Tim's arm slip out from around my back and I manage to hold myself up. Wyatt moves his hands from my face to my shoulders.
"I'll take you home," he says, his voice gentle.
"No," I yell. I feel embarrassed, I know people are watching us. He's treating me like I'm a little kid. "I'm fine."
"How much have you had to drink?" He asks.
I shrug my shoulders. I really don't remember.
"Five cups," Eva says behind me. "I tried to cut her off at three but she wouldn't listen."
"I'm fine, just stop," I say, pushing Wyatt's hands off me and stumbling backward. I gasp in air and choke on the smoke.
Wyatt grabs me again and steers me away from the group. "Go wait by the car," he calls to Eva.
"I'm not leaving," I say, trying to resist him but he's stronger than me and my feet can't get it together.
He leads me up the back steps and into the house where a fire burns in the fireplace. It's the only light source and it casts shadows around the room. All I can remember is Wyatt saying this place is haunted and now I'm ready to go home.
"What's going on?" Wyatt asks, bending to look directly in my eyes.
"Nothing, it's a party. I'm having fun," I say crossing my arms over my chest.
"You're drunk," he says plainly.
"You're welcome," I say with a sarcastic smile.
Wyatt pulls his ear lobe. "I didn't think you'd really get wasted."
"What does it matter, it's not like you were around to stop me." I don't know why words are coming out of my mouth but I can't help it.
"I've been here this whole time, Q." He reaches out to touch my cheek. I hit his hand away.
"What is this?" I blurt out.
"What?" He asks.
"Why did you bring me here?" I ask but even I can hear my words slur.
"You're not making any sense," he says, reaching for me again
"None of this makes sense," I say, taking a step back from him.
He steps forward. "I'm taking you home."
"Why me?" I yell, clearly. "You have friends who don't even know I exist. We're not supposed to know each other, we're practically from different worlds so why me?"
"I told you before, I like that you're different," he says, without hesitation.
"Not good enough," I say and try to walk toward the door.
"I don't know," he shouts, stopping me. "I don't know, all I know is the only person I want to be around is you." He pulls on his ear again. "I have fun with you, it's easy. I don't have to worry about being the guy everyone thinks I am, I can just be myself. I can sing off key and dance like a maniac. I can eat food that I'll just have to work off the next day but I won't be judged for it. With you is the only place I feel like myself."
I take in his words and try to think of the right thing to say. Instead, the alcohol in my brain propels me forward. I reach for his face but Wyatt grabs my wrists and stops me, my mouth only inches from his. He rests his forehead on mine and sighs my name.
"But you just said," I breathe out.
"I can't risk losing this," he whispers.
"Or you can't risk losing your reputation." I stand up straight, pull my arms out of his grasp and turn for the door. "Take me home."

We drive in silence. I learn that Kam and Frankie left over a half an hour ago. I don't remember that. Eva said it was fine, they called Kam's dad but I feel like she's leaving something out.
The motion of the car is making me nauseous but I'll be damned if I'm going to throw up. I just crack my window and close my eyes.
We drop Eva off first. She asked if I wanted to stay at her house but I said no, I wanted to go home and be alone.
Wyatt pulls into my driveway and I can't get out fast enough.
"Quinn," Wyatt says and my hands still tingle at the sound of my name. I ignore him.
I close the door and walk around the back of the car so he can't even see me. I'm halfway to my front door when he rolls his window down.
"Drink lots of water and take Tylenol," he calls to me.
Is he serious? A hangover cure? That's what he decides to tell me right now?
I keep ignoring him and slip inside the door, part of me feeling like this may be the last time I see him like this.
I slam the door harder than I mean to but it doesn't matter, my parents are sitting in the living room, awaiting my arrival.
"Kitten, what's wrong?" Mom asks.
I groan and head towards my room.
"How was it? Are you ok?" Dad asks.
I hit my shoulder on the wall in the hallway and they gasp.
"You're drunk," he says, following behind me.
"Surprise," I say, walking into my room and collapsing on my bed.
My mom comes in with a water bottle and Tylenol and my mind goes right back to Wyatt. I snort out a laugh.
"I'm shocked," my dad says. "I really didn't expect this from you." He's not mad or disappointed, he almost sounds impressed.
"Leave her be," Mom says. "She needs sleep. She'll be feeling it in the morning."
My parents leave my room and that's the extent of my lecture. I'm barely 16 years old and I've come home drunk and my parents are almost proud of me? What kind of world am I living in? I guess I should've been doing this kind of stuff for a while now. Maybe since I've ripped the bandaid off of partying I can make it a regular thing.
I close my eyes and know it's the alcohol talking. I had the worst time and I feel like I've been held underwater for three hours. Tomorrow I'll figure out what actually happened and see what it takes to make it all right.