The Pact

Chapter Ten: I'm pretty sure I'm not into necrophilia, are you?

"Chelsea, you look absolutely stunning." Nancy said once Aaron brought us to her.

I hugged her back and grabbed my dress, making sure I didn't fall.

"Thank you, so do you." I grinned.

"Where's the bar?" I heard Paxton ask Aaron. He pointed in the direction but I grabbed his arm before he could leave.

"Do you really need to have a drink so soon?"

He rolled his eyes and pulled his arm away. "I'm fine."

"Pax," I said. "Please don't go."

"Chelsea, it's one drink. It's fine. I'll be back in five minutes." He turned around, tugging on the tie around his neck.

I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. "If he doesn't want to help himself, you can't help him." Flynn said, stuffing his hands in his pockets as we watched him walk away.

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms across my chest. "It's starting to piss me off."

"I know. But if there's anyone that can help him, it's you. He may not realize that right now, but he will."

"I need some air." I grumbled, moving over to the floor to ceiling doors that led to a terrace that looked over the bustling city.

"It's 34 degrees out!" Flynn called after me.

"I'll get used to it." I called out after him.

I moved through the mass of people and eventually felt the cool air smack me in the face, causing goosebumps to form. As cold as it was, it felt good against my hot skin.

There were barely any people out here which was comforting. I let out a deep breath and closed my eyes.

I felt something draped over my shoulders and my eyes opened. "Flynn, I'm fine."

"Not Flynn and you and I both know you're not fine." Aaron said. I looked to my right and he was staring out at the city, hands in his pockets, the white button down tight around his upper arms and shoulder. You could barely see his sleeves under the white material.

He turned his head to look down at me. "So, what's going on?"

I wrapped his jacket tighter around me and pursed my lips before speaking. "Your brother is turning into an alcoholic at the ripe old age of eighteen."

He raised his brows and nodded his head, letting my words sink in. "What's he doing about it?"

"Absolutely nothing. He's in denial."

He scratched at his beard with his free hand. I saw the glass of whiskey in his left hand and I took it, gulping down some of it, feeling the burn run down my throat.

"You sure he's the only one with a problem?" He asked, a slight smirk on his lips.

"Oh shut up. I'm stressed."

"You really shouldn't be. I understand you care for him, but pressuring him to admit his problem isn't going to help. He'll come to terms with what he's doing eventually. Of course you need to help him, keep an eye on him, but you can't smother him. The more you tell someone they can't do something, the more they want to do it; especially someone like Paxton."

I puffed out a breath, turning my back to the city and facing the party. After searching for a little I found him laughing as he talked with a group of guys.

"Don't worry, those are a couple of my buddies. I sent them his way after Flynn told me what happened."

"Are they going to encourage his drinking."