She's Beautiful And Mine (gxg)

Chapter Three: Thank You.

He tentatively took a sip of whiskey and muttered, "Alright." He did it in that condescending tone of his that I hated with a burning passion.

"All I'm saying is that y'all would make a hot couple."

"Ugh," I replied, acting out a gag reflex.

He laughed at that. I laughed along after a while.

It was past midnight in no time and the both of us were on the couch, trying to find something fun to do after a few hours of dancing, beer pong and more drinking. We even did a bit of karaoke. Well, mostly he did. I hate karaoke. Or singing, in general.

I was honestly doing fine but Wyatt looked like he was about to pass out.

He looked over at me with much effort and slurred, "H-how're you s-still. . . . so-sob-sobrie-so-sober?"

"It's a gift, babe. My tolerance is sky high."

"I-I can s-see t-that."

"Okay, maybe I should help you get home, buddy. We've done everything we can here."

"N-no. . ."

"The fuck do you mean no? Look at yourself! I can't carry your fat ass home if you pass out. Your Mom will start to worry and then I'll have a hundred messages on my phone. She always calls me!"

"N-no. I mean, K-kenzie is o-on h-her way. Y-you c-can s-s-stay."

McKenzie or Kenzie is his sixteen year old sister.

"Oh, alright. That's good. So that's why I haven't seen any messages!"

He smiled weakly at me.

"Let me get you some water then, big boy?"

"Y-yeah. T-thanks, H-Haryel."

"It's Harley, and you're welcome."

I ran my hand through his rough, messy blonde hair and ruffled it up before getting up off the couch and going on a pursuit for some water in an alcohol-dependant community of partying teenagers.

I pushed past teenagers dancing, twerking, screaming, drinking and making out. The music was so loud, I could feel it vibrating through my speedily beating heart. Finally, I was pushed into the comparatively empty kitchen by the noisy crowd in the living room.

I tried to scan the room for any trace of an unopened water bottle, or a fridge, for that matter. But I didn't get far because my eyes latched onto a scene at the corner. It was a guy in a baseball cap, pretty big and muscular, visibly forcing himself on some girl.

I peered over his shoulder and my eyes widened at the sight before it was registered in my mind.

Samantha Winston. With a bleeding cut across her left temple. She was crying, or at least it looked liked it from the distance I was at. Her hair was messy now, though still in a ponytail. I could see that her dress was torn at the shoulder, scars peeking out.

For a moment, I froze. I could hear my own heart beat loud and clear and feel the blood rush to my head. But then I could feel my legs move and I felt myself come back to my senses.

I kicked the guy from the side and he stumbled and fell onto the tiled kitchen floor. A few people noticed, but for the most part, everybody was too drunk to care.

I caught a glimpse of the shocked and terrified expression on Samantha's face before I stood protectively in front of her.

He quickly scrambled to his feet and loomed over me. I was barely affected. I gave him a bored look.