"she's the first in line at a party"
"No way."
"Cam, please!"
Graham had some pretty stupid ideas sometimes. Like the time he convinced me to dress up in nice, elegant clothes as if we were on our way to a royal ball, except our only destination in mind was McDonald's. Or the time he carried me on his shoulders while I wore a giant trench coat, just to see if we would be allowed in the movie theatre as a ticket for one. We weren't, but it was fun.
It was also stupid. Just like him trying to convince me to go to Ivy Mora's foolish party.
"I am not going to a party that's just gonna be a bunch of girls trying to look pretty and get drunk so people will think they're fun and then vote for them for prom queen."
His eyes blinked in my words a few times before he responded.
"How does that-" He started to say. "Whatever. Can't you just come with me to support me? She's throwing it for the basketball team!"
"Ivy Mora throwing a party for anyone other than herself? I'm not buying that."
He frowned at me with his arms crossed. "Camryn, you don't even know her."
His words tore through my distant exterior like a sharp arrow being shot directly at my chest. I could feel the hate melting on my skin and seeping into my veins. When I thought of Ivy Mora, all I saw was an attention-seeking spoiled brat who used her daddy's money to gain friends. She was like a bloodsucking demon who latched onto anyone that let her.
And now I was stuck between believing she had now latched onto Graham too, or that I was jumping to conclusions way too quickly with her.
"Please, Cam," Graham begged once more.
"You can't just go with the rest of the team?"
"I could, but I want you there."
Like I'd always said: he had a way with his words.
"Fine, I'll go." I finally gave in. The hairs on my arms were upright out of irritation and my body was burning with red hot anger, but at least I'd be with Graham the whole time. Going to a party with someone you trust was better than going alone in any sense; It couldn't have been that bad, right?
"But I'm only going for you."
He grinned and pulled my face into his for a kiss. It was a normal kiss, the way he had always kissed me. Though the way he had always kissed me was never quite satisfactory. I loved Graham, I did. But oh my god, he was a terrible kisser.
I tried to ignore it the first time—we were younger and I just assumed it was his first kiss. It was my first kiss too, after all.
And then I excused it again the second time. Then the third. Then the fourth.
There came a certain point where I had to stop excusing his horrible kissing as "first-time jitters." Five months into a relationship, I had to accept it. Graham was just a really bad kisser.
His lips were fine; they'd always been soft and beautiful, and the perfect size for mine. It wasn't his lips that were the issue. The issue was the way he pushed his face into mine every time we kissed like I was going to run off if he wasn't holding my head in place. And the way his nose always collided with mine since he thought changing the way he leaned in every time was a fun idea. And don't even get me started on his intrusive tongue. It was like wrestling a bear every time he introduced that thing to the kiss.
"I should get changed," I told him as I pushed him off of me. I felt bad, of course, but this was one of those times where his tongue wanted to go exploring and mine just wanted to be left alone.
He nodded with a cute smile as I began searching my closet for something party-worthy. I wasn't going to show up in some short shorts and a crop top in the winter temperature, but I didn't want to embarrass Graham by being the only girl there who didn't even bother to try. I had to get over myself at some point.
I ended up going with a black turtleneck long sleeve and pleather skirt combo, using the same dark tights I wore under my skirt yesterday. Graham approved delightfully, his eyes glimmering as he looked me up and down. I pushed my legs into some knee-high boots before we left the house and all of a sudden, I was now a party girl.
The ride was short to Ivy Mora's residence. Graham drove us there in his car with the intention that I'd be driving us back to my place afterward. I guess he was planning on having a bit of fun tonight, which was good. He deserved it after all.
When we arrived, the gate outside of her insanely beautiful modern mansion was already opened and a few cars were parked in the driveway. There wasn't any more space for us to join them, so we'd parked a few houses down. Graham happily walked me through the gate and then continued down to the front door; it felt like we had entered just as quickly as we got there and my palms were starting to sweat. What even is the correct party etiquette? Does that exist?
"I'm gonna go set this by the others and grab a drink," Graham told me, pulling a full-sized bottle of vodka out from the inside of his jacket.
"Where the hell did you get that?" I never even saw him put it in his jacket.
He chuckled. "Let's go, you need a drink."
"I'll come along but I'm not drinking." I followed along as he tugged my wrist by his side. "Designated driver, remember?"
"Oh, one drink won't hurt you." He waved off my comment with his hand, leading me faster than I can comfortably walk.
"I'm serious Graham, I—"
"Graham, is that you?" A voice crept up with a question behind us when we reached Ivy Mora's kitchen. The voice belonged to Dylen Tucker, the girl who, for the entire duration of our relationship, had stopped at nothing to get Graham's attention.
She had a notorious home-wrecking habit where she'd deliberately seek out guys in relationships to hook up with, and no one but the girlfriends seemed to notice. And now her target seemed to be my very oblivious boyfriend whose demeanor was always so charming that anyone could mistake a simple conversation with him as flirting—Dylen included, I realized, as she bit her lip up at him like a coy little actress.
Suddenly, I did feel like having a drink.
"Hey, Dylen, how are you?" Graham greeted her as she pulled him in for a hug. Her hands gripped onto his varsity jacket tightly, her fingers digging into the material. His arms wrapped around her gently and I felt like I was going to be sick watching them interact.
Don't get me wrong; I wasn't jealous. Dylen was the least of my worries—she wasn't nearly as threatening as she thought she was. We were never really friends but we'd spoken a few times here and there—little things about assignments and such. She was just a normal girl with some weird kink for unavailable guys, and since Graham and I had been together for far too long for her to sneak her way in, I had no reason to be jealous of her. That's not what this feeling was.
I didn't hate her; I was just overwhelmingly annoyed by her simple presence.
Still, after watching her try to flirt her way around my boyfriend, I found myself pouring a second drink as soon as the first one went straight down my throat.
"Babe, I have an idea." Graham pulled me out of my low before things could get too serious. I'm still supposed to be driving, but after being so careless, it'd probably be best if we both just Ubered back home.
But as I registered Graham's comment, I felt my head tilt just the slightest as my eyes narrowed. "I don't like the sound of that."
"No, it'll be fun, I promise!"
I wasn't able to get another word out—or another drop of tequila into my mouth—before he started to pull me away from the kitchen. I made sure to hold onto my cup as he dragged me through the many twists and turns of Ivy Mora's mansion. Eventually, we came to a stop in the grand living room where a group of seniors was gathered on the giant, white sectional couches. Bold to let your drunk party guests around your presumably expensive furniture, but I guess if I were rich, that wouldn't necessarily be a concern for me.
Within the crowd, I spotted a few familiar people. Simon, Ingrid, Dylen, etc. The most notable of them all, however—Ivy Mora herself. Of course she would be here, it was her party. I just didn't realize she actually knew how to converse with the people she invited to her house all the time. It was kind of refreshing seeing her finally talk to her house guests instead of shooing them away any time they got close.
And then I spotted a glass bottle on the floor.
Why the hell was my boyfriend taking me to a game of spin the bottle?
"I know it looks weird—"
"Weird?" I repeated in shock. "Graham, you do realize how spin the bottle works, right? Are you trying to be funny or do you actually have, like, zero common sense?"
"Camryn, listen!" His soft voice crooned into my ear as he grabbed onto my arms just a bit too tight, probably underestimating his tipsy strength. He took a deep breath. "It's not spin the bottle, it's seven minutes in heaven—"
"That is so much worse, Graham."
"It's just for fun! I wanna try to get some alone time with you tonight before we both get too busy with finals and shit."
"What kind of reason is that?"
He rolled his eyes in irritation. "Don't you want to spend time with me? I thought you said you came here for me."
The tone of his voice rubbed me the wrong way but I continued to challenge him anyway. "I did, but why join a stupid game of Seven Minutes in Heaven when there are probably a dozen rooms in this place to get 'alone time'?"
"Jesus, Cam, you're making things so difficult. It's just a game!" He said, exasperated. "They even have house rules that allow you to pass once, so you can just use your pass if it happens to land on you. I'll make it up to you if you join, I promise."
I stared into his pleading eyes, completely appalled.
"You're full of shit if you think that makes it okay."
He groaned and dropped my arms, starting to walk away from me and toward the group of people.
"Graham, where the hell are you going?"
"I'm going to go play a game," he said, completely shattering my trust as he continued to walk. "Join me if you want, or don't. But I'm not letting you ruin a party that was meant for me."
My face burned as I watched him get farther and farther away. I followed after him, not sure what to even say.
"Graham, if you join that game, we're done."
The words escaped my mouth so easily I almost believed them. But was that something I was actually capable of? Breaking up with my boyfriend of two years who I'd loved for so long? Over some stupid game?
Graham listened to my threat and scoffed, joining the giant group and taking a seat right next to Dylen Tucker herself and Ellie Piper. I stood by the wall in disbelief as I watched him smile and chat with everyone as if our entire relationship wasn't on the line because of his actions. Did I really mean that little to him? Or did he simply not take me seriously?
Even the rest of the group sent him confused glances, looking over at me occasionally with concern as I glared daggers into Graham's chest. So many people to confirm that I wasn't overreacting and yet Graham didn't seem to see the issue.
"Alright, who wants to start first?" Ivy asked suddenly, not bothering to mention Graham's presence in a group full of singles. Something about her easy dismissal of it all sent me into a rage, but part of me was happy she was staying out of business that wasn't hers.
"Ellie should start," Graham suggested nonchalantly, nodding to the girl sitting on his left side like everything was normal.
Ellie smiled. "Okay, I'll go."
I watched intently as the game lasted a few rounds before people started to get bored, my presence emulating a hawk stalking its prey At least that's what it felt like.
A couple of people used their free pass to get out of seven minutes in heaven with a stranger, though there were more people who were much more into it when it was someone they didn't have any connections to. Half an hour passed by as the group outside of the closet just continued to talk about the weather and theorize about what the couples were doing in the closet during their seven minutes. So far, Graham hadn't spun the bottle or had it land on him, so my attitude started to calm as I began to realize he was probably just messing with me the entire time. Cruel joke, but at least he wasn't serious about spending seven minutes in a closet with some other girl.
"Graham!" A familiar voice suddenly called out in the middle of my thoughts. Dylen, who I almost dismissed among the crowd, had spun the bottle perfectly, with the neck pointing directly at my boyfriend.
Immediately, the crowd's eyes shot over in my direction. It felt terrifying to be in the spotlight at this moment, not only because I hated the spotlight in general, but because no matter how I reacted, I would be pinned as a bad girlfriend.
If I shouted in disagreement, I was being dramatic and annoying. If I told him not to go, I was being boring and controlling. If I allowed him with no complaints, I was being neglectful and dismissive. There was no winning in this scenario, even if he refused to participate and I got what I wanted.
So I guess Graham made it easy for me by not making me respond at all. Instead, he took it upon himself to take Dylen to the closet without even looking my way with so much as a remorseful glance. He walked straight past me like I wasn't even there while I watched him make a decision without caring about the consequences.
He didn't even hesitate.
As they entered the closet together, one of the kids in charge of locking the door and watching the time made sympathetic eye contact with me before turning the lock and starting the timer. The surrounding students were silent and no one dared to make a sound or look my way. Instead, they exchanged glances with one another as the room continued to grow heavier and heavier.
Seven minutes felt like hours by the time they were finally over and the underclassmen opened the door, revealing Graham and Dylen looking disheveled and impressed with themselves. They exited cheerily, whooping and clapping as the party started to resume just as it was before. No one seemed to care about the infidelity anymore as the alcohol was settling back in again and when Graham continued to treat me like I wasn't there, I decided I'd had enough.
If I wasn't sure about my threat before, I sure as hell was certain now.
I dashed to the kitchen to down two shots of an unknown liquor with some random people who declared it was "shot o'clock," every ten minutes. I didn't care about staying as sober as possible anymore; those shots were probably be the only thing that could distract me for the rest of the night, and I was in desperate need of a distraction.
A few minutes had gone by and I already started to feel the vodka hit me, making my cheeks feel hot and making the room spin just slightly more than they were supposed to. I usually didn't drink at all, so downing the equivalent of four shots within half an hour was definitely taking its toll on me.
When I was tipsy enough to stop caring about the discomfort of being in the spotlight, I marched back up to the spin the bottle group, watching as they all kept wary eyes on me. This time, Graham saw me.
Good. He better be watching.
"My turn," I demanded immediately, glaring down at Ivy Mora's clearly inebriated eyes. She stared up at me in confusion.
"You can't just join in whenever," she said matter-of-factly, completely uncaring. "You have to get in and wait your turn like everyone else."
I decided to ignore her, dropping down to my knees and reaching for the bottle anyway.
"The fuck?" Ivy complained, but I didn't care.
"Nah, just let her go," someone in the group said, siding with me instead of Miss Ivy Mora—a real shocker, actually.
Ivy leaned back with a sigh, giving up. So I took matters into my own hands and gave the bottle a spin, watching eagerly, and quite drunkenly at this point, as it seemed to spin forever. Before it landed, I glanced straight across the room at Graham, who was already staring back at me. But he didn't even seem upset; he was smiling. Like he was happy that I changed my mind and joined the game anyway.
But that's not what this was. This was so much worse.
Finally, after what felt like centuries, the bottle began to slow down, ticking slowly between the different members of the game. My anxiety continued to fade away as the alcohol became more familiar with my body and by the time the bottle completely stopped, I didn't care at all who it landed on. As long as it wasn't Graham.
But when I followed the neck pointing directly next to me, I realized the one person it landed on happened to be the only other person I couldn't stand right now. And so I had to make a choice.
Who did I least want to spend seven minutes in a closet with right now? Graham?
Or Ivy Mora?