Dizzy

Chapter 2

~Ziah~

What?

How do I even answer that question?

He's standing with a plastic cup full of beer, and his arm draped around some girl. It's such a possessive way to hold someone. Like, your body is pressed against me, making me feel all desirable, and I'm using you for an armrest. Nice.

He actually takes a drink while his arm is still resting on her shoulders, and while he's still staring at me.

Wow, he has totally straight, white teeth. And nice hair. Touchable black hair—all messy, but still perfect. Then I let my eyes fall down. God. Of course. He probably spent more than two hundred dollars on his stupid jeans. It's probably his dumb party. And his freaking mansion.

He's still staring. I must be scowling.

The girl under his arm gives me a once-over and looks away. Right. I'm no competition 'cause my jeans aren't two sizes too small. Whatever.

"Someone said there were sodas over here? Fridge maybe?" I reach toward the handle.

"Don't touch that." He almost, almost lets go of the girl with the skin-tight jeans, but not quite. Where would he put his arm?

I hold my hands up. "Fine, whatever." Guess he's anal about his fridge.

"On the porch," he says from behind me.

I don't look back—just wave to say thanks and head for the glass door. When I step outside, I can finally breathe. It's like as soon as I get into a huge group of people like this, I don't know where to put my hands. These aren't my people. My people are with my boyfriend, James, in a biology lab across town. Not in overpriced, over-tight jeans getting wasted.

"I can't believe I got talked into this," I say under my breath.

It's just not my thing. It normally isn't James' thing either. He just heard about it from his cousin. Then my friend Alyssa got all excited, and they begged me to come. But is he here? Nope. Not yet. Oh. And also not answering my texts.

James and I have been dating for more than a year—since the beginning of junior year. It's hard because I didn't see him much over the summer, and since school started again, he's been busy. I love that he's so driven, but it's also hard. We're into all the same things, and we're both headed to med school. So I get it, but I also miss having him around.

I stop and scan the porch for coolers. Oh, perfect. There's a couple making out on the corner of the deck. Who thinks the back porch, even if it's the size of a basketball court, is the perfect place to make out? I'm sure there are like twenty rooms to choose from upstairs.

When I find the thing, I step over and pull open the lid—thankful it's not next to the desperate couple. Tequila, Vodka, Rum. Of course. Why am I here?

It's a Halloween party that forbids costumes. Not that I'd really want to dress up, but who does that? When I said that to James, he said it's also a back-to-school party. So these people do Halloween with no costumes and back-to-school parties two months late? I'm pretty sure they're psychotic.

I should be home studying. Senior year. It's important. Senior grades are a big mark for university applications. My AP classes will actually be college credits. I don't see how jumping around in someone's house to good music—even though it's being played way too loud—and getting hammered is a good way to celebrate us being in school, but whatever. James is coming, so that should make it worthwhile.

"Hey!" Alyssa jumps on my back as she comes outside. She already reeks like whatever she's been drinking. We've only been here a half hour. Alyssa and I have been best friends for like, ever, but sometimes I just don't get her. "Can you believe this place?"