Expectations (wlw)

Chapter 4

Fairul and I looked at each other. The door opened; she sighed and got in. She glared at me.

“Well?”

So I sat on her lap. It was awkward for both of us.

“This is in violation of road safety rules,” she declared. It also wasn’t safe for my lungs, because I was so anxious about touching her that I was sitting rigid on her thighs.

“We’re not putting Sam on the roof deck.”

I decided not to ask these people how they knew my name, even if I have never met any of them before. Fairul’s clique must be in on every loop.

The car took off in relative silence, and it all felt tense to me. Fairul and I were stacked and frozen, moving as little as possible to not inconvenience the other. Well, I was apologetic; I think she was just annoyed.

It was smooth riding on the asphalt, but soon enough the SUV swerved onto a rocky dirt path off the main road. As expected, everyone in the car jostled in their seats, protected by their seatbelts.

Unfortunately, Fairul’s lap doesn’t come with any safety measures, so I would be on my way out the windshield if not for her arm clapping me across the chest. Oh. Um.

“Nathan,” she said, voice very close to my ear. “Slow the fuck down.”

Nathan - the boy behind the wheel - apologized but didn’t slow down. Fairul’s arm moved lower on my torso, like one of those guardrails on rollercoaster rides, and braced me against her. Right. We didn’t want me rattling inside the car. Her hand was unbearably warm. Nobody else spoke.

We stayed like that all throughout the little dirt path and into the forest until we got to a cabin in a clearing. When we parked among the other cars already present is when she finally let me go. I couldn’t get out fast enough.

As our group entered the wooden door, it dawned on me that I didn’t know anyone here save for Fairul, and she’s already among the claustrophobic sea of bodies gathering in the middle of the cabin, but my eyes landed on a familiar face.

Christina walked toward me like a man on a mission, holding one bottle in each hand. When she got to stabbing distance, she held one out to me.

“For you, new girl.”

“Thanks.” The label was unfamiliar, and it’s from someone I barely know who I think has something against me, but it was unopened and I needed a drink. She offered a bottle opener. How thoughtful.

I was hovering near a wall, so she leaned against it - for some reason - and took a sip of her own bottle.

“I thought you didn’t like me.” Sometimes I say things before I can think about their results. She huffed.

“That’s debatable. What brings you here?”

“Emil.”

“She’s not around?” I shook my head. “Shame.”

“Well,” she said, kicking off the wall. “Don’t stay here all night, go dance, play something. Enjoy yourself.”

I’m not joining that cluster of sweaty bodies, and I’m certainly not drunk enough to be making out with random people. “Maybe later.”

She waved vaguely in my direction as she walked away.

I’m not entirely sure how many bottles I’ve had before my brain finally decided that jumping into the mass of other alcohol-inebriated teenagers was a good idea. I was between two girls, getting grinded on, when an arm shot out from the crowd and pulled me away.