High School Treachery | ✓

18 | Secret Getaway

1 8
Secret Getaway

"Damn, slow down, Boulevard. Last thing I need is you passing out on me."

I ignore David's irritating voice and finish off my second glass. Turns out, it was champagne that David had been drinking, and the half he had left and gave to me was not enough. I needed another, so I entered the enormous ballroom, found a waiter handing it out on trays, and grabbed two more.

Just as I go for the third, it's torn away. I look toward the culprit, wanting to smack the shit out of them, before I realize it's David—who I've already had the privilege of smacking.

"Boulevard, don't make me cut you off like a two year old," he says sternly.

"What kind of two year old drinks champagne?"

"I did."

I look him up and down. "That explains a lot, actually."

He smiles at that, white teeth shining against his darker skin, making me stop for a second to admire how good looking he is. Too bad that pretty face is wasted on such a shitty personality.

"Get out of my way," I say, pushing past him to get another glass.

Or to find Malia and get the hell out of here, whichever I come across first.

"As much as I would love to get away from you, and, actually, never speak to you again in my fucking life, I can't let you out of my sight tonight," David says as he easily catches up to me.

"And why is that?" I pause and cross my arms over my chest, seeing as there's no point in walking off if he's just going to follow. I'll only tire myself out, or worse, bust my ass in these heels trying to outrun him.

Last thing I need is to draw more attention my way.

"I can't let you ruin things. I don't know why Malia brought you here, but I'm not letting her or you mess this up," he states firmly.

"Mess what up?" I ask with squinted eyes.

And why did he say her with so much venom in his voice? I expected it when he said me, but why talk about Malia like that? I thought they were friends.

David smiles at me, the kind of smile you send someone you think is completely clueless to everything around them.

"Don't worry about that, Boulevard. Just keep to yourself, don't talk my ear off too much, and we'll be good."

He reaches his hand out to pet my head, so I quickly side step his touch. And because I'm, well, me, I knock into a waiter carrying ten full glasses of champagne. He goes tumbling to the ground, taking the expensive drink and glasses with him. Thankfully, I'm totally fine and stay upright.

"Boulevard!" David scolds when he takes in the mess, but I don't miss the amused glint in his eyes.

The waiter is completely laid out. He's conscious, and doesn't look injured at all, but he just lays there, completely done with life.

"Are you good?" David stands over him and asks. When the waiter nods, but still doesn't move, David says, "Bro, get the fuck up, then."

"Nah, I'm suing these people," the waiter announces from the ground.

David turns to me with a can you believe this shit? look, then grabs a glass from another passing waiter and downs the champagne as if it's water. "I'm not drunk enough for this bullshit."

Another waiter runs off to get the Rousso's, so I figure it's best if I disappear before they get here. And since David's too busy chugging back champagne flutes like shots, my best chance to escape is now.