Chapter Forty Three
We go to the circle set up in what seems to be the second livingroom. It's Trace, Mason, Cameron, Adalyn, Lucas, Beatrice, Marcus and a kid named Jay who appears to be a friend of Beatrice.
I sit in between Adalyn and Mason while Trace sits across from me.
Jay is the first to ask the question, "Never have I ever skinny dipped with the opposite gender."
I've never done that so I don't drink. I have a weird red drink in my cup, but I'm barely going to sip it. I'll just get enough in my mouth so that my throat still bobs when I swallow. I'm not going to get tipsy off of a dumb game.
Beatrice is the next to ask but even though she's speaking to the entire circle, her eyes stay locked on mine.
"Never have I ever sent a naughty picture." she smirks and downs a drink.
Adalyn and Lucas smile at each other and take a drink. Trace, Cameron and I are the only three who keep their cups planted firmly on the floor.
I'm a little surprised when Mason takes a drink but it makes sense. He's got girls fawning all over him at school and with the right amount of pressure people will do just about anything.
Mason is the next to ask a question, "Never have I ever flashed a stranger."
He chuckles to himself as if remembering, then he takes a drink.
This is the first question I'm able to drink to.
Trace raises his eyebrows at me with an amused smile when he realizes I have very well flashed a stranger.
It wasn't a big deal because it was a prank Laila and I did where we'd lift up our shirts to see who could get more people to look. I could only ever last about two seconds before I was slapping it back down so she always won.
It was a stupid prank but it kept us entertained.
It's my turn to speak, "Never have I ever locked my keys in the car."
Everyone around me takes a drink and Beatrice scoffs, gaining my attention.
"Is that the best you can come up with?"
Actually, yes. I'm not a fan of trying to discuss everyones sexual life so I wanted to spice things up with actual questions.
"Yea," I say dully and she frowns.
"I believe you; you don't exactly strike me as the 'fun' type."
I laugh, "Awe, you don't approve of me? What a damn shame." I say sarcastically and she narrows her eyes.
"Never have I ever had sex." she smirks and takes a drink, knowing I won't be able to. She's thinking that she just called me out on something I'm ashamed of but really she didn't. I don't care if people know the truth about me and what I have or, in this case, haven't done because my decisions are what makes me who I am.
In order to know me, you have to know how I think and what I do. She's not exposing me in any way because I'm not ashamed.
"Never have I ever slept with someone to get them to like me." I ask and keep my eyes focused on her.
Trace stifles a laugh and Adalyn whispers 'dayum' in the background.
Beatrice doesn't make any attempt to pick up her cup so I just ignore her and Cameron takes his turn.
"Never have I ever had regrets about being with someone for a night." he asks and Marcus is the only one who drinks.
I stand up, finished with the game. I thought a party might be fun but I was wrong. All it is is drama and hormones.
The entire house is just full of bad energy. Everywhere I turn there's a make-out session, or a game of spin the bottle. If it isn't any of that then it's a guy hitting on a girl who clearly isn't interested or people rubbing all over each other to the rhythm of the music.
I need air.
This party was a dumb idea for me to go too. If it wasn't for Josephine having to drive Ethan and Mason home then I'd ask her if we could leave right now.
Looks like I'll just have to wait until Ethan and Mason are tired of partying; that could take hours.
I go to the backyard and find a big inground pool. There's pretty plants lined up around the back patio and pool chairs lined up around the pool.
As I look at the chairs something catches my attention, or rather, someone.
It's a guy with slick back hair holding his head in his hands.
If he's sad I want to try and help. Nobody deserves to be sad, especially not at a party.
I walk closer and sit in the chair in front of him. He doesn't raise his head so I assume he didn't hear me walk up. It's understandable since the music can be heard from down the street.
"Hey," I ask softly and he raises his head up to face me.
His eyes are red and teary as they scan my face, probably confused on why a stranger stopped to talk to him.
"Are you okay?" I ask him and he shakes his head.
"My girlfriend dumped me."
He sobs a little bit more and I suddenly feel very awkward not knowing how to comfort him.
"Why'd you come over here to talk to me?" he inquires, voice shaky through the tears that are beginning to fade.
This is the perfect example of what being nice to someone can accomplish. I've only been over here for two minutes and he's already becoming less sad. His sobs are already starting to fade.
I shrug, "You seemed sad and I wanted to see if there's anything I can do to help."
He smiles at me and straightens up.
Three minutes and he's already smiling. Giving someone a few minutes of your day can really make an impact on them.
He eyes me up and down before smirking, "Hell yeah there's something you can do for me."
He begins to lean in and stops inches away from my face, "Want to go upstairs and you can help me forget?"
My hand automatically reaches up and slaps him in the face. I jump up from the seat as he sits there holding his face in pain.
"What the hell!" he shouts at me and I cross my arms.
"Why is everyone so disgusting?" I whine, "Can't people just get together and have fun. Does everything always have to be about sex! We could've became friends dude. We could've sat and talked, you could tell me what's on your mind and I could try to help you feel better but no you had to think with your downstairs brain and screw it all up. Why can't people just be civilized?"
He gives me a bewildered look before rising to his feet, "Um, sorry."
The boy walks backwards away from me, as if he's scared to turn his back because I might attack. Once he's a few feet away he turns around and rushes back inside.
"Seems like you're really enjoying yourself." I hear Trace chuckle from behind me and I turn to face him.
"Don't even start with me." I say firmly and he holds his hands up in defense.
"Are parties always like this? Where everyone around you is horny? How is that any fun at all! People couldn't even play a stinking game correctly without it being morphed into something dirty."
He laughs at my aggravation and I roll my eyes, "It's not funny."
He smiles at me sweetly, "Fine, it's not funny."
Trace takes a step forwards and I look up to meet his beautiful gray eyes, "Want me to take you home?"
If there's anything I know about alcohol it's to never drive with someone who's been drinking it.
"You can give me the keys to your truck and I'll drive the both of us home?" I offer as a backup plan and he frowns at me.
As if he could read my mind, he speaks, "You really think I'd drive you if it could put you in any kind of danger? I had water in my cup." even though he's asking a simple question I can still hear the meaning behind it.
He seems sad that I don't trust him. Like believing he'd drive me home intoxicated was the most bizarre thing cause he'd never do anything to hurt me.
And I know that. I know that if there was any sort of threat to me he'd refuse instantly, he'd do anything in his power to keep me safe.
I don't know how I know this but I do. It's something I'm certain of.
"No," I tell him honestly, "I don't."
He smiles and pulls out his keys, "Good, then let's go home."
We walk inside and the smell of alcohol seems stronger than before as people are caught stumbling around the room.
I take a step and my foot slides through a liquid that I hope is a drink of some kind.
Trace turns around to see why I stopped walking and see's my misfortune. He looks up to my face and his eyes land on my frown before he gives me a small smile.
"Just be glad you didn't slip and land in the puke."
Ugh, why did he say the word puke? I had already convinced myself it was a fancy margarita.
He takes my hand and we start walking again but before we make it out the front door, another interruption stops us.
It's Cameron, "Can you help me get some bottles up? Some kid dropped a six-pack and there's broken glass all over the street in front of my house."
Cameron keeps his question focused on Trace, ignoring my presence all together.
Trace, being the kind person he is, agrees to it. That means me, being the good friend I am, will help as well.
The three of us walk outside and go to the street where all of the glass is. If his driveway wasn't so damn long it wouldn't be that bad but after walking what seems like a quarter of a mile just to get to the street I'm almost too tired to pick up any of the pieces.
It's a lot of glass with what seems like a couple dozen big pieces that can cut someones tire if left out here. I'm bound to get quite a few cuts from this good deed.
I bend down and begin picking up pieces.
"I'm going to go get a bag for us to put all of this in."
Cameron gets up to get the bag leaving just Trace and I.
"So how do you like your first party?" Trace teases knowing that it sucks.
I've already been in the middle of a game that has no appealing fun to me whatsoever, been hit on by a guy only to tell him off and make him think I'm insane, almost slipped in puke and now I'm crouching in the middle of the street trying to keep my dress from flying up while I pick up slivers of glass.
I grab a little piece and it slips out of my hand, slicing through my index finger.
"Ow," I spit out and instinctively drop the rest of the pieces so I can tend to my new wound.
Blood starts seeping to the top and I'm glad when it's not gushing because that means the cut wasn't too deep.
Trace reaches over and grabs my hand in his, "Hold it. I'll run and get a bandage."
He lets go of my hand before dropping his glass pieces and standing up. Where is Cameron? Does he keep the bags on the roof, what the heck is taking him so long?
My finger stings with pain and I want to cry. Not just because of this but because this has been the absolute worst party I've ever gone too. I just want to go home.
Trace makes it to the center of the yard before turning around to face me. His face is full of confusion, "Do you hear that?"
He looks down the street to follow the noise. I follow his gaze to see a car speeding down the street heading straight for me. It's lights are off and if he didn't have his ears peeled it would've easily gone unnoticed.
"Emma!" Trace shouts and takes off running towards me.
I can hear him calling out to me but all I can do is stare at the car.
A coward has never been a word I'd use to describe myself. I'd like to think of myself as being brave and confident. But as I stare down the car speeding towards me, coward is the only word I can find.
My body fills with terror and even though I know getting hit by the car would most likely kill me I can't bring myself to move.
It's like my feet are frozen to the ground and no amount of energy could make me move.
The car gets closer and it seems like the faster Trace runs to me the faster the car gets.
The black vehicle gets close enough to where I can see who's driving it but all I see is a black hood. It's like a movie. A really bad movie.
I can see the car moving closer and closer while the reality that I'm about to get hit subsides.
My knees become weak and a sharp pain shoots down my shin. It's like I can practically feel the impact already, like my body is preparing me for what my eyes are witnessing.
The car gets closer, only a few feet away. From the corner of my eye I can see Trace getting closer to me as well.
I'm not sure which will make it to me first but I don't want to know. He needs to stop. If the car is faster than he is he's about to get hit.
I turn my head to face him and all I see is worry. His mouth is shouting at me but I don't know what he's saying. His eyes frantically move from the car back to me over and over as if to see how much time he has left.
I want to tell him to stop running, to just stay away but my mouth won't even open.
Even if I was able to speak to him I know he'd never listen.
I look back to the car and it's only a few feet away now.
I'm not going to go down having the last thing I see be a black car trying to kill me so I close my eyes. I try to picture my favorite people in my mind so that my last thoughts will be of the people I love.
My eyes squeeze shut as I wait for the impact of the car.
Suddenly, it hits.
I fly through the air and slam onto the grass, feeling the weight of the car on top of me.
It didn't hurt as bad as I thought it would.
I open my eyes to see Trace staring down at me. His eyes hold concern, worry, sadness but the one that stands out the most is relief.
Oh, I guess I didn't just get hit by a car.
"Oh my goodness." he smiles as my eyes meet his.
Before I even have the chance to speak he falls on top of me and engulfs me into a hug, "You're alive."
He wraps his arm around my back and pulls me off the ground closer to him as he buries his face in my neck.
"You're alive." he mutters again.
My arms instinctively wrap around him and he cries into the crook of my neck.
He pulls his back up and I let go of him. I sit up and feel a sharp pain in my hip.
I wince and grab at the bone.
Trace notices this and places a hand on top of mine.
"Is it broken?" he asks delicately and I shake my head.
"No, I don't think so but it hurts." I whine out. I know its from getting slammed onto the grass.
He looks up to meet my eyes, he gulps, "May I?"
Trace reaches for the hem of my dress and I know he's wanting to see my hip. In order to do that he needs to lift up my dress.
"Yes," I tell him and he looks around him to make sure nobody else is near. He takes in a sharp breath before lifting up the side of my dress. He keeps his eyes trained on only my hip as if looking anywhere else is dangerous.
His hand is cold when he places it on me and he squeezes, "Does that hurt?"
I shake my head and he smiles, "Good."
His eyes scan over the spot and he pushes in certain places, watching to see my reaction.
"It's not broken but you'll have a bruise there for a few weeks." Trace carefully pulls my dress back down.
Add almost getting hit by a car to my list of why I'll never attend another party.
I stand up and Trace follows my lead.
We head back up to the house, walking hand-in-hand when Cameron rushes outside.
"I saw what happened from upstairs," he says panicky, "Emma are you okay?"
"Yea, I'm alive." I quote Trace.
He runs over to me and entangles me in a hug, "I'm so glad you're okay."
I hug him back and when he pulls away I see anger on Traces face from behind him.
"Where were you man? She was almost hurt trying to clean up the mess that you ran away from and then never came back too!"
I take notice to the way he says 'hurt' instead of 'killed' even though the impact of the car would've most likely killed me. It's like he can't even bear the thought of me dying and the word alone pains him.
"I was getting bags and I saw from the upstairs window." Cameron says innocently and Trace groans out.
He seems mad at Cameron for being gone but it's not his fault. He didn't know a speeding maniac was about to come out and try to kill me.
"Whatever, I'm taking her home." he grabs my hand and shoves past his friend as we head to Trace's familiar light blue truck.
Authors Note:
Hello! Thanks for reading and don't forget to make that little star orange! Have a great day and stay safe!
Welp... Emma is alive! And Trace had another heroic moment. Thank goodness he got to her before the car did, but will they always be that lucky? Is this the end of all things deadly or has the maniac just started his/her game?
That may be the best paragraph I've ever written with an a/n lol. ^^ It seems so superficial to me but I kinda dig it!