0.14 - Saturday 12:57 a.m.
Rhys Wyer
"I wasn't sure we'd ever do this again," Beverly whispers, surprisingly candid. My lips hover over her neck.
"Why would you think that?" I ask.
Beverly's head dips foreword and I press a kiss against her skin. She shakes her head.
"I just thought..." she starts quietly, "...you know..."
"Stop," I say like a groan, gingerly letting my teeth sink into her neck, the only spot where I know she'll shut up. On cue, Beverly arches her neck and releases a sigh.
I sit back, finding the hem of my shirt and pulling it off. Beverly works her tank top off as well. She bites her lip and I grab her bare waist, bringing her closer and kissing her. The world becomes dark as I close my eyes, forcing myself to focus on Beverly, her cool skin underneath my fingertips, her gentle movements against me, the little noises she makes.
The air becomes increasingly colder, and it takes all my energy to keep my mind on what's happening here. Beverly shimmies out of her tiny skirt, revealing red panties.
I know I'm probably not as excited as I should be.
Her hands don't hesitate, grabbing the buttons of my shorts. I feel myself seize up.
No. Yes.
I swallow uneasily as she unbuttons and unzips my fly. I grab her wrists, and she sucks in a sharp breath.
"Let me do it," I say roughly. She relaxes, her spine loosening like she just dodged her biggest fear. I stand up and finish what she started, but everything feels wrong and clumsy. My shorts drop to the floor and I awkwardly climb back on the bed.
Her hands are cold when they touch my chest, and I bite back a hiss of surprise.
We're kissing again. And again. I can tell this is inching closer and closer to sex, and it's not like I don't want to. I do. Why wouldn't I? It's just...fast, too fast.
Her hands are fiddling with her bra. She's having trouble trying to unclip it from the back.
"Can you do it?" she asks. Fuck. Unclipping her bra? I did not sign up for this. It can't be that hard. I reach behind her and find the clips. How do I undo this? I don't know if I mean the bra, the situation, or both.
That's when the sirens blare.
"Oh shit," Beverly murmurs. We hear the noise from the party outside rise in panic, and the pounding footsteps of teenagers rushing out the door.
"Quick let's go," I say, never faster in getting off her and reaching blindly in the dark for my clothes. The red and blue light from the police cars outside plays haunting patterns on the bed.
We hurry downstairs. Beverly tries to hold onto my hand, but once we get off the stairs we're swept up in the crowd, and I quickly lose her. It probably didn't help that I was barely gripping her hand.
I'm shoved outside, unable to control where I'm going. The music has turned off but the harsh beat of my heart pounds a louder rhythm in my head.
"Rhys!" I turn, trying to identify the voice. It's Jules, his tall, slim frame standing out against the crowd. He waves and I push my way towards him.
"Fucking hell, watch where you're fucking going," I say under my breath when someone's elbow sharply digs into my ribs. "Where's everyone else?" I ask Jules once I reach him. He grabs my arm and pulls me after him.
"I don't know. I wasn't with any of the others," he says. I'm about to ask where Mav is on impulse, but Jules speaks before I can, thank God. "Get an Uber."
I reach into my pocket for my phone, but when my fingers brush empty air instead, my heart plummets. "Fuck, I don't have my phone. I must've left it somewhere." I'm tempted to go back, but the amount of bodies pushing us away from the door convinces me against it. I'll just have to call Tristan to make sure it's not at his house.
Jules shakes his head. "Fine I'll get you an Uber but you have to pay me back."
"Yeah, I will. Just get me an Uber," I say.
The crowd of teenagers surges down the street, where they are either pouring into the cars already hazardously parked nearby or Ubers pulling up in front of other houses.
Jules is still behind me. We are a few houses down when he points to a black Prius and shoves me towards it. I open the back door and slide in.
"Jules Renshaw?" The Uber driver asks, a big guy with unruly, black hair. He smells like cigarettes and new leather.
"Yeah." The Uber driver puts the car in drive, but before he can accelerate the back door slams open again, and another body is shoved inside.
I scramble to the side, exclaiming, "What the fuck?" at the same time the person says, "Shit, sorry."
No fucking way.
"Mav?" I exclaim.
He turns slowly with an expression of surprise and confusion.
"Rhys? What—this is my Uber," Mav says, his voice harsh but his eyes still dazed.
"No, it's mine. Jules paid for me," I say. Mav looks to the driver and frowns.
"Well shit," Mav says. "You're not Amanda."
The Uber driver raises his eyebrows. "Dick." The one syllable comes out deep and gruff.
Mav's eyes go wide along with mine. "Sorry, what?" Mav asks, too shocked to sound offended.
"My name is Dick," he says with that same roughness.
"Oh, I-I'm Mav," Mav says, blushing with good natured embarrassment, maybe for assuming an Uber driver had cursed him out, or because he was caught in the wrong car. The police sirens wail louder, bringing him back to the present. "I'll go, I guess."
Mav turns and reaches out to open the car door, but before he fully leaves the vehicle, a feeling washes over me─which feeling, I can't say─and the word flew out of my mouth.
"No." Mav stills, turns his head back towards me, one leg in the Uber and the other on the street. "You'll get in trouble," I say as an attempt to explain. Mav's parted mouth tells me that he sees straight through it. He sits back down and closes the door.
"Okay. Then I guess we're ready to go, Dick," Mav says, then half turning to me, "Where to?"
We lock eyes. "My house."
Mav visibly swallows. "Oh. Okay."
Dick grunts and steps on the gas.
***
No one's home. Of course when I need someone home everyone's gone. So it's just me and Mav. Mav and me. How fucking awkward.
I glance at the clock just to give me something to do. Then I look away. But after a few moments I realize I hadn't actually read the clock and I have no idea what time it is and I can't bring out my phone because I left it God-knows-where.
Mav has his hands in his sweatshirt pocket, standing stiffly by the couch as if I have to offer him the seat next to me in order for him to sit.
I don't want to tell him that he can sit so I ask what time it is instead.
Mav looks at his phone before carelessly slipping it back in his pant pocket. "2:46 a.m."
I nod my head like I'm mulling this over. Can he just sit down? Maybe he shouldn't sit down. Maybe he isn't sitting down because he's waiting for someone to pick him up.
"Someone coming to pick you up?" I ask, hopeful. Mav's cheeks flush and I know he's mad. He takes his phone out, focusing on the screen.
"Well, no," Mav says, fiddling with his phone case.
"What?"
"No one's coming to─"
"Yes, but that's not possible. What about your parents?" I interject.
"They're asleep. I don't want to piss them off by asking them to pick me up at this hour," Mav says. He doesn't look smug, like I sort of expect him to look. If anything, his downward gaze is almost bashful. I push nonetheless.
"What about an Uber?" I ask. Mav rolls his shoulders like a bird ruffling his feathers, slightly annoyed at my question.
"I don't have any money," he says. I feel desperate trying to think of how he could get home.
"Text Jules, he could come pick you up."
Mav rolls his eyes. "You and I both know he'd never do that." I grind my teeth. He's right.
There's no one else. No other options except...
"You could drive me," Mav suggests. I scowl. Not only do I not want to drive him right now, but I'm also still drunk as hell. "Or I could...stay...here."
Mav's shoulders slump in defeat. Clearly neither of us want this.
"I guess you could stay," I relent. Mav scratches at the back of his neck, his gaze darting around the room, everywhere except me. "You can sleep in Kevin's room if you want. He's sleeping at a friend's house tonight."
"Okay, thanks," Mav says. He clears his throat. "I'm gonna go up then." He nods, turns, freezes, then keeps walking, away from me and up the staircase and I can't tell if each step he takes further away makes my breathing easier or harder, or maybe somewhere in between.
I pat my pocket out of habit, and realize I still haven't looked for my phone. Glad for something to keep my mind occupied, I rush upstairs, barely sparing Kevin's room door a glance before barging into mine.
There. On the corner of the bed, waiting for me to pick up on my way out the door hours earlier. I snatch it, the cool plastic of the phone case an instant reliever. Peering at the screen, I nearly drop my phone at the amount of missed calls and texts I have, mainly from Beverly and Jules. None from Mav.
I know Mav's not sleeping yet. He just didn't want to be downstairs anymore. Neither did I, and I've never been more grateful for my own room and my own bed, the white walls and boring baby blue bed sheets a welcome remedy to the exhaustion building up inside my head.
It only hits me how tired I am─not only because it's almost three in the morning, but because of everything that's happened and will probably have to happen─and the instant my head rests against my pillow, I fall into a deep, dark sleep.