Seabrook, Hadley

You're a Drunken Mess

Make out sessions. Make out sessions everywhere.

I wove through the crowd to find Luke. I had gone to the bathroom, and now it was like playing hide-and-seek with a chameleon. Angrily, I pulled out my phone to check the time. I hadn't gotten his number because I hated his guts, so when the the phone read 10:39 I inwardly groaned and shoved it back in my purse.

I sat by the bonfire with my non-alcoholic drink, since I had suspected I was going to be the designated driver and that Luke would be very, very drunk. A girl sat next to me.

"Hey. I'm Waverley," she said, sticking out her hand. I took it and shook.

"Hadley."

"This party sucks," she said and I nodded. It really did. It was cold and there was PDA everywhere I looked. You could literally close your eyes, spin around a few times, and open your eyes to find a couple sucking each other's faces off.

Usually, the parties in New York were like that, but I had a friend who I could actually have fun with.

Luke wanted me gone.

No, he wanted me dead.

And I didn't mind, because the feeling was mutual.

"Who'd you come with?" Waverley asked, and I took another sip of Ginger Ale.

"Luke something," I said, having to speak loudly over the screaming and music.

"You don't know the last name of your date?" Waverley asked, an amused glint in her eyes. I rolled my eyes.

"He's not my date, his mom made him ask me to come because I'm new here, and he pisses me off very much." I said, and Waverley rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, right," she said. I raised my eyebrows at her and she laughed. "Any guy named Luke has to be hot."

"Hot doesn't mean enjoyable," I said. I scanned the crowd for the guy who had brought me here, but there was still no sign of him.

"Waverley! Did you see the fight?" This girl said, who was holding a beer and stumbling around a bit.

"What fight?" Waverley asked, suddenly concerned.

"Between Herrington and Taylor," the girl said, noticing me and grabbing my hair in her hand and smiling. I awkwardly smiled back at her and swatted her hand away.

"Shit," Waverley said. "This is not good!" Before long, Waverley was running away, and I was being dragged along, too. We wove through make out sessions and drunk teenagers to see two guys on top of each other, beating the crap out of the other.

"Taylor!" Waverley gasped and tried to drag the guy on top off of the person on the ground. She wasn't getting very far, so I grabbed the other guy and pulled him away. I was strong from doing hockey, so I was able to get the other guy away, while Waverley got a hold of the other one and shoved him to the ground. He stumbled backwards and fell.

"You fucking idiot! You're a drunken mess!" she said, not sparing a detail about how much of an idiot he was.

I turned to look at the other guy, who I had just saved from getting knocked out. His face was covered in blood, and I crouched down to examine the damage. The nose was bleeding and so was the upper lip, and there was a bruise on his eye. I looked closer at him.

Wait, that's-

No.

Luke had gotten himself in a huge fist fight with some kid I didn't know, and looked like he had been in a cage with a lion.

What the hell was I supposed to tell Sarah?

Yes, I know. I should've said "how am I supposed to address these bruises" but honestly, he had it coming to him, and I didn't really care what happened to him after his not-so-warm welcome and his bitching and name calling and embarrassment.