Jourdan Mathews has a secret, and she knows she needs to take this one to the grave.
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Her life was never complicated: a college student with a close family, good friends, and a plan for her future as a doctor. Had that night had never happened...
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I started the night somewhat sober.
But here we are, no less than three hours later, and I am nearly blacked out. It's easy this way, I can barely think or feel when I am in this state. The disconnection from reality is something I want, rather than something to avoid. Plus no one at a party is really cognizant enough themselves to tell you to stop drinking.
"To health, happiness, and good fortune!" Justin cheers, lifting another shot glass of flavored vodka in the air and tossing it back. Lars and I do the same, the once burning liquid sliding down my throat with a smooth sense of comfort.
"I'm so fucking drunk dude." I shout over the crowd and the music in the lacrosse house. They both nod in agreement.
"And I've got a big test to study for tomorrow," Lars groans. "What the fuck is wrong with me."
"Better to forget about it then, looks like we're blacking out tonight bitch!" Justin shrieks, grabbing me in a rough, drunken hug and squeezing. I squeeze back, cheering and laughing.
"Jourdan!" I hear my name behind me, and I turn, smiling when I see Savannah. She's dressed in a corset top and high-waisted jeans, her five seven height boosted by a pair of heels. Her arms pull me into a sloppy hug instantly.
"Hi!" I cry drunkenly, my voice a bit high pitched. "How are you?"
"Good," she sighs, her thick lashes fluttering as she tosses her long hair over one shoulder. "I think I'm about to leave actually."
"As you should," I hear a snide comment from behind us and wince. I already know it's Lars. If ever there were a mystery to be solved, it would be the mystery of why Lars Morgan, one of the nicest guys I know, hates Savannah Hayes. Don't get me wrong, she hates him right back, telling me he's a dick and she doesn't even want to dignify his presence with their backstory.
"I should've known," Savannah smirks, glaring over my shoulder now and I turn slowly, Justin's eyes wide. He too is just as concerned as I am. The few times we've witnessed them interact; it hasn't been pretty.
"Just when I thought this night couldn't get any worse," Lars shakes his head, crossing his arms tightly across his chest, muscles flexing as he tightens his hands into fists. I don't often see Lars angry, but when I do, I'm reminded of how menacing his stature can be. Since he's on the hockey team he's a massive wall of a dude, but he never uses it to his advantage unless he's on the ice or in situations like this one.
"What's wrong?" Savannah raises a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Did you burn a cake today baker boy?"
"Fuck you," Lars seethes, stepping closer and Justin reaches out to pat his shoulder, reminding him now is not the time.
"Awe," Savannah pretends to pout, glancing to me with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I think I hit a nerve."
"Come on guys," Justin says weakly. "There's no need for this."
