Beyond us (all of us #3) 18+

T W O

G I O

If I'm not at football practice, a game, skating, or in my best friend's backyard for a late night smoke, I occasionally find myself doing the unthinkable--standing around at some lame ass house party in the rich neighborhood, pretending I don't hate every second of it.

Backyard kitchens, LED-lit pools, wine caves--whatever the hell a grotto is. Big houses with no soul and bluetooth speakers in every bush. But hey, there's not much else to do when you live in a town like this. Half of us are bored, the other half are fake, and everyone's either hooking up or talking shit.

No in between.

I grimace at the group of about ten glittered-up heads plop onto the floor to play spin the bottle, all of them squealing like they're auditioning for a teen drama reboot. My eyes cut sharply at Diesel. My glare screaming a vibrant are you fucking serious?, but he doesn't flinch. Just bites his cheek and downs a long gulp of whatever off-brand jungle juice is in his red cup.

If I'm cringing, then I know he's dying inside. Yet here we are again. Another Friday night. Another pastel pink nightmare.

"Why do you fuckin' drag me to this shit?" I almost laugh out the words, finishing off my second drink and tossing the empty cup somewhere behind the inflatable cooler.

All the cheer skirts, letterman jackets, basketball warmups, ASB shirts and practically everything in between all circling around us like hungry piranhas.

Like they know we're out of our element.

Diesel and I stick out like sore, throbbing, possibly infected thumbs. I used to think he came to these things just because of that redheaded chick--because pussy is the only justifiable reason for doing just about anything--but lately, I'm not so sure.

We come to these stupid parties and the two of them barely spend time in the same square foot vicinity, let alone the same room. Diesel lurks like a housecoat, while she flits from room to room with her clones, giggling at everything and taking blurry selfies. It's like she brings him as an accessory. Something expensive and rough around the edges that none of her friends would dare buy for themselves.

The only time they seem to acknowledge each other is when they happen to bump elbows every hour or so, and then I'm pretty sure they find somewhere to fuck when the nights about done with.

But I can only assume that last part--that's my main agenda at these things, at least.

"Free drinks. Fuck it," Diesel mumbles into his cup, scanning the room like he's looking for an exit he'll never take.

I follow his line of sight. Takes me all of two seconds to spot what he's been locked in on all night.

The blonde in the high ponytail who sits two rows over in third period Geometry. She giggles at next to nothing and is about as interesting as the fucking cafeteria applesauce, but you'd think she was dipped in gold the way Diesel stares at her all the time.

I shift my eyes back to him just to check, and he's still watching her as she swoons over her little cookie-cutter jock of a boyfriend, practically swinging around him with their fingers all knotted up, pecking lips every five seconds.

It's sick.

What's even more sick is the crush Diesel's had on her since seventh grade.

She was the shiny new girl, showing up to our junior high mid-year and every hormone addled boy in school lost his damn mind. Yeah, even me--for about a week. Then she her sheen wore off. She became old news and we all got over it.

Except Diesel never got over it. Not really.

I lean closer and jab him with a smirk. "Why don't you just take a picture of her already? Frame it. Hang it over your bed. That way you don't have to keep staring and jacking off to your shitty memory."

"Fuck off."

If you ask him about her, he'll deny it till he's blue in the face, but I know the truth. I know my friend and what makes him tick, and that preppy pretty little blond makes number two on the list at the very least.

"So," I say, stretching my back against the counter. "Did you really come because Mak forced you to, or was it just an excuse to keep an eye on blondie?"

He shoots me a glare and starts rolling up the sleeves of his hoodie. Classic tell. "Did you really just come to be a pain in the ass, or are you gonna drink and shut the fuck up?"

I shrug, grab another full cup off the counter, and raise it like a toast. "Both."

The vibe shifts and I hear the clack of heels and a voice that always sounds like is about to present a TED talk on confidence.

"Hey, Diesel."

Ah fuck, Marina's here.

Diesel turns and gives her a quick, friendly hug. Her bright smile dims about ten watts when her eyes land on me. As always.

"Gio," she says flatly, dropping her eyes before I can even respond.

She came with a friend--one of the cheer girls. Can't remember her name. Doesn't matter. They both look like they walked out of a make up tutorial.

"Where's Trenton?" she asks.

I turn my head the opposite way and roll my eyes. I know that's the only reason she's here. She doesn't really do parties. Yeah, she made cheer this year, but that was a political move. She's not friends with any of these girls. Makenna can't stand her, Kay hasn't said more than three words to her in her life. And Chloe? They barely acknowledge each other.

I doubt she was even invited.

"His mom wouldn't let him come or something." Diesel shrugs, but his eyes are already drifting.

Back to Chloe.

Again.

"You know you could easily pull her, right?" Marina says, out of nowhere, and I almost want to high five her for the first time in years.

"Who said I want to?"

"Your body language."

He doesn't even argue. Just stares at Chloe and Todd like he's imagining punching him in the jaw mid-kiss.

"I'm good," he mutters. But his fists are clenched. "Her little boyfriend, though?" He lets out a dry laugh. "I could easily pull him into a fucking ditch."

Diesel's had this long time hatred for Sumners for as long as I've known him. Long before Chloe was in the picture. There's probably some story behind it, but Diesel's not the sharing type.

Then again, there probably isn't a reason. You could look at Diesel on the wrong day and make top of his kill list just like that.

Still. It probably doesn't help that Todd beat him to the prize.

"Fucking sucks at football," Diesel adds, jaw tight. "But he's good at staying outta my way. See how long that lasts."

I believe him.

Because when it comes to Diesel, it's not a matter of if he snaps.

It's when.