"Stop that."
I jumped slightly as my eyes shot over to the familiar hulking form standing in the doorway of my bathroom. I always forget how tall Derek is until I'm standing right next to him. Or in this case in front of him.
"Stop what?" my brows...
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I need a drink…
I had successfully gone most of the day without having to talk to Cas’s boo-thang (her words), Jace, or the rest of her friends, but almost as soon as we finished setting everything up, people started making their way inside.
I mean it when I tell you that the house was packed, and I mean like hardly any room to walk without stepping on someone's toes, or bumping into another person's back kind of packed.
So much for a small gathering.
I need a drink… and maybe a smoke…
A jock carrying a large keg of beer dumped into my back as I tried making my way to the kitchen.
“Watch it freak!”
Definitely a smoke.
Rolling my eyes at the nickname all of St. James High School had so graciously given me, I followed the jackass into the kitchen– grabbing what I came in here for.
The large bottle of Jack Daniels Tennessee whiskey Jace’s dad had stashed in his liquor cabinet we raided in preparation for tonight.
A night that was supposedly in dedication to the birthday girl, yet there wasn't a single banner or balloon in sight that would suggest this was for Cas.
I told you he was just trying to get his dick wet.
Brushing past the familiar and unfamiliar bodies that were slamming shots and tongues down their throats, I was finally able to make it outside. The cool August air greeted me as I stepped out onto the back patio of Jace’s house.
Fall is fast approaching, signaling the end of a long summer and the beginning of another eight months of what most kids call hell.
They don't know hell.
And senior year certainly isn't.
I'm called a freak by literally every student (except for Cas for some reason I'll never know) that walks those halls, but it doesn't bother me. It doesn't bother me when they leave notes in my locker filled with deprecating words filled with hate.
Nothing they say is any different than what I say to myself in the mirror every morning. At least it would be if I actually looked in the mirror.
I always forget how big Jace’s house is. Well, is it a house? I guess it's more like a mansion in some fancy gated community. His backyard is probably the size of two football fields sat next to each other.
At the far end of the yard, where I just happen to be headed, there's an old dock that I doubt his parents know is there.
Otherwise, I think they would have a few boats to boast about, like they boast about the needless abundance of cars they have under lock and key in their underground garage.
