"Pretty girls like you get lost in these woods all the time, Alexa."
On the night of Sebastián's annual Beginning of Summer Bash, amiable and adventurous Melody Tryniski went missing. What might have appeared as a juvenile escapade - a casual incide...
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CHRISTOPHER SHAW IS THE epitome of freedom. He's the type of guy that can make you do anything, the twitching arrow in your moral compass that teeters between good and bad. With those pale blue eyes, he transfixes you into feeling unstoppable, the brush of his skin a piece of what heaven must feel like, his vodka-filled breath icy against a quivering lip.
He stumbles inside Shaw's Diner half-drunk, with his shirt half-open, his lips lifted into a half-grin. His toned chest glistens with what can be sweat or saliva or whatever other substance spread on him the night before. In one hand, he holds the neck of a vodka bottle, the other grips Nari's tiny waist. His long fingers run smoothly against the patch of her skin that's visible, the lifting of her sweater making it easy for her to feel his touch, a piece of heaven on her stomach.
Something inside of me aches with discomfort, the swelling of my veins burning with anger. My hands ball into tight fists, the pressure of my nails digging on my skin fueling this raging turmoil inside of me. But, I can't stop the beating of my heart as my concentration goes back to him. The sight of him going about the diner as if nothing happened, all eyes on him, quenches this nasty feeling that corrupts my heart.
Christopher walks around, greeting people as he talks to Nari. His composure is relaxed while he leans on the long counter that faces the entrance, and he sits on a red floor-mounted stool. He's all toothy grins and natural charm as he talks to his jock friends. A laugh erupts from his stomach as he looks at Nari, his chest shaking with his infinite exhilaration. The tip of his vodka bottle rests on his lips, the warm liquid going down his throat in small gulps, and then his blue eyes land on me.
They catch me as he's in mid laughter, the endless blue swirling around with mischief before he returns his attention back to her. It's brief, a simple glance that's powerful enough to quench this burning threatening to turn me into something I'm not - a monster, just like the rest of them. There's something about the way he looks at me, an intimate secret between the two of us.
As he drinks more out of the vodka bottle, I can't help thinking about all those times down the riverbank, the party blasting behind us, his fingers brushing mine as he passes his bottle to me. Then tasting his saliva, a tinge of salt mixed with alcohol and some cigarette residue, before the pungent vodka overwhelmed my mouth.
I look down at the long crystal glass that contains milkshake, the thick red straw protruding from the fluffy whipped cream cloud that covers the top. A metal cup is alongside it to contain what can't fit in the glass and, as I look at it, I move the straw around, mixing the milkshake with the whipped cream. My eyes trail up as I take a sip, the milkshake going down my throat like a lump. The sweet treat tastes bitter without Melody beside me.
