Palm Print

Chapter 5

The house was massive, more like a mansion. Cars were parked along the curb, and the black gates were open for all to enter. I surveyed the area, looking for Brandy.

"Where is she?" I murmured to myself.

As I texted her, someone hit my window aggressively. I reached for my pepper spray and taser.

"Come on," I shouted,  glaring at the assailant.

"Taylor, relax." Brandy laughed, pressing her face against the window.

"Don't do that!"

"Okay, babe. Chill."

I took a few deep breaths. My heart raced, each thump feeling like a cannon going off. Tristan knocked on my passenger side, and I unlocked the door for him.

"Hey, Taylor," he said, entering my car. His ebony skin was glowing. "I told her not to do it."

"Let me in," Brandy asked, pulling on my car's back door.

"No, you're staying out there," I shouted.

"I'm sorry, babe."

"Is my boy coming?" Tristan asked. I rolled my eyes as my brows tensed. "What?"

I clicked my tongue. "No, your boy isn't coming."

"Why not?"

"Work," I sighed. "Anyway, I'm glad you and Brandy worked everything out."

"She bugs out too much."

Brandy got on the hood of my car, saying, "Hello? I'm right here. Stop talking shit."

I rolled my eyes and said to Tristan, "I like the haircut. It's so short now. What happened to your dreads?"

He rubbed his head and glared at Brandy.

"She didn't," I gasped.

"While I was sleeping she went through my phone and saw Timera texting me," he began, a vein emerging from his forehead. "She cut my hair unevenly. One dread was super short; the other was diagonal. She fucked my shit up."

I tried so hard not to smile, but a wide grin formed on my lips. Brandy was so wrong for doing that. I pinched my lips together, but laughter spilled out.

"That shit isn't funny, Taylor." He pointed at Brandy. "I should break up with your crazy ass!"

I laughed, grabbing my stomach. Tears flowed, messing up my makeup.

"Tristan, I said I was sorry," Brandy said, pressing her face against the windshield. "I was upset."

"You spray-painted 'I love dick in the booty' on my car!" he shouted. My eyes widened, and my jaw dropped.

"Did she really?" I asked.

"Yeah, her ass did." He showed a picture of her vandalism. She spray-painted the message in pink and also left a tiny rainbow under the message.

I turned to her and said, "Brandy? You left this part out." I turned back to Tristan. "I am so sorry."

Brandy walked to his side and tapped on the window.

"Open the door," Brandy said. Tristan glared at her through the passenger side window. "Please."

He opened the door, and she climbed in, sitting on and facing him.

"I'm sorry, Tristan.  It won't happen again."  Brandy whispered. They interlocked fingers and smiled at each other. I rolled my eyes and left the car.

"I'm going to the party," I shouted.

"Wait," Brandy pleaded.

Like hell, I was waiting. My phone buzzed. It was Ethan; I had a lot of missed calls and texts from him.

Ethan: Taylor, I'm sorry.

Ethan: Please, message me back.

Ethan: Are you at the party? Be safe.

Ethan: I'll make it up to you. Talk to me, please.

Ethan: Taylor, please.

I began to text back but then put my phone back into my pocket and entered the house.

The living room was packed with people dancing, and I made my way through the crowd into the kitchen. I picked up a red plastic cup and smelled the liquor. It had a peachy aroma.

"Taylor, hey," Steven said, flipping his brown hair.

"Hey, Steven. Do you know what's in the cup?"

"Peach Crown Royal."

"Oh God." I walked to the refrigerator and began to look for various things to mix it with.

Steven walked closer, taking a drink of the Peach Crown. "You don't like drinking it straight?"

"God no. I need to mix it."

Brandy and Tristan entered the kitchen.

"Steven, hey. This is Tristan. Tristan, Steven. We work together at Fry's."

"What's good?" Tristan asked, shaking Steven's hand.

"The usual," Steven replied. They continued talking while Brandy walked over to me, drinking the Peach Crown. She coughed a little, and her cheeks were flushed.

"Are you okay?" I asked, mixing the drink into a cocktail.

"Yeah. Where's Ethan? Is he coming?"

"No, he's not coming. He has work."

I handed her the cocktail, and we both began to drink. She interlocked arms with me, and we explored the house.

"This house is massive," I shouted over the music.

"Aiden lives here. His parents are lawyers or something," she shouted back.

A few couples were making out on the stairs as we walked past.

"That's disgusting," I stated.

"Is it really? Or are you jealous?" she asked, drinking the cocktail.

We entered a gaming room and sat on the couch. I drank the rest of my cocktail.

"Of course, I'm fucking jealous," I whispered. My phone buzzed. Ethan was calling.

"Ethan?" she asked.

"Yeah," I replied, ignoring his call.

"You really should answer him."

"Why? He likes work more than me." My brows furrowed. "You know, he was at my house yesterday. I didn't say it directly, but it was obvious I wanted to fuck. I was practically begging on the phone." I chuckled. "He came over and I was horny. I was soaking through my leggings." I leaned closer to her. "I went into the bathroom for like 30 seconds, and when I got back, his ass was asleep."

Brandy drank the rest of her drink and said, "He's been working a lot though."

"I work too. Before we came to Fry's, we worked at Subway all summer long."

I grabbed a pillow and squeezed it.

"His dad was injured. He doesn't want to burden his family too much. He's doing this just until his father recovers." Brandy answered.

Brandy wrapped her arms around me, and I sank into her. I felt guilty, but I was still mad at him.

"I know," I began. "Is three times a week too much? I'm not asking for three times a day like you and Tristan."

Brandy gasped, withdrawing her arms. "No, we don't," she defended.

I squinted. "I know you did it this morning because you had that stupid expression on your face. I know you did it on your lunch break because you had a different outfit on when you came back. You're at two times, bitch." I clicked my tongue. "What did you do after work?"

She pinched her lips together and played with the ends of her hair, trying her hardest to hold back the slight smile forming.

"Fuck you," I threw the pillow at her.

"We didn't," she smiled. "What we did after work does not count."

"I'm going to dance!" I shouted.

I walked to the kitchen and drank two shots of Peach Crown Royal. The sting was good; people cheered and smiled as I skipped to the dance floor.

I could feel the liquor affecting me, and it felt great. I wasn't drunk but rather tipsy. Tristan and Brandy were grinding on each other. Brandy winked at me.

"Stop rubbing it in!" I shouted.

I loved dancing; it was calming, and watching everyone was oddly serene. I didn't know when, but Dion and I began dancing together.

"I'm surprised you came," he said, slightly smiling. Dion had gorgeous teeth. I slushed my tongue around my mouth, reminding myself I needed to wear my retainer more often.

"I promised Brandy," I replied, hiccupping.

"You good?"

I chuckled, "Yeah. I've been drinking."

"Oh, that makes sense. I didn't know you drank."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked, slightly glaring.

"Brandy said that you're a prude," he replied, slightly laughing.

I looked around, searching for her. "That bitch," I shouted. "I'm not a prude!"

"Where's Ethan? Also, I met Tristan," Dion began, wiping the sweat from his milk chocolate skin.

"He's working. What do you think about Tristan?" I asked, walking to the kitchen. We drank some Amsterdam.

He coughed, then replied, "I thought he was going to be a square." I laughed. "I also thought he was white."

"Do you have a problem with white people?" I smirked.

"My girlfriend is white. Don't start that shit with me, Taylor. Anyway, it was how she described him."

"Yeah, he's nothing like she describes," I replied. "I could see why you would think he's a square."

"Now I want to see Ethan."

I felt a little dizzy but continued to drink. "I laughed, and why do you want to see Ethan?"

"Let me guess, Ethan is white, has blonde hair and blue eyes, and gets good grades. He also has glasses."

I smiled, shaking my head. "You're wrong. Firstly, he's not white; he's biracial. His mom is white; his dad is Black. Secondly, he has brown hair and brown eyes. No glasses."

"Really," Dion took another drink as his phone buzzed. His eyes widened as he read the message.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he stuttered. His face was flushed, "I... I gotta go."

Dion stormed off, bumping into a few people. His girlfriend must have texted him. I hoped she wasn't pissed off that we were dancing. It's not like we were grinding or anything.

Well, I guess I would be a little pissed off if Ethan was dancing with a girl I didn't know. Ethan. I looked at my phone and saw more messages.

Ethan: Taylor, are you okay? Please talk to me.

Ethan: You're being unfair. I can't leave work at the moment. Would you talk to me?

I began to type a response.

Since your job is so much more important than me, why don't you focus on that? Why does it matter if I'm at the party or not? Don't worry about what I'm doing.

My finger hovered over the send button, and I pondered sending it. My eyes twitched and I felt so stupid. I was the only one here without someone to dance with or kiss or anything.

Ethan texted me again.

Ethan: I love you. Please stay safe, Taylor. ❤️❤️❤️

I lingered on the message, repeating the words "I love you" in my head, hearing his voice. My heart fluttered, and my fingers tingled. I felt an uncontrollable smile coming, and I tried my hardest to contain it, but I couldn't.

I put my phone in my pocket, "No, I'm not responding. He can talk to work."

I began walking throughout the house, stumbling slightly. I drank a little too much. I searched for Brandy and Tristan. I hadn't seen them in a while now.

"Brandy! Tristan!" I shouted, weaving through the crowded rooms. The music was blaring, and people were everywhere, making it hard to spot anyone.

I pushed my way into a quieter corner and looked around. No sign of them. I sighed, feeling a little lost and annoyed. I decided to check upstairs, thinking they might have found a quieter spot away from the main party.

Climbing the stairs was harder than I expected in my tipsy state. I steadied myself against the railing and made my way up. The upper floor was quieter, with a few couples talking and laughing in the hallway. I opened a few doors, peeking into rooms but not finding them.

Finally, I came across a room where the door was slightly ajar. I pushed it open.