Afterlife: Oblivion #Wattys2024

15. Who Invited My Trauma Back to the Party?

POV Jane Doe.

[ Flashback Start. ]

I blinked my eyes open and the world came crashing in - a fucked-up kaleidoscope of movement and noise. The lake party was going full tilt, a sea of bodies grinding and thrashing to the beat like they were possessed. Strobe lights painted everything in trippy colors, and the air reeked of cheap beer and teenage desperation.

Wasn't I just clinging to Raphael's chest in that godforsaken elevator from hell? The cognitive whiplash made me want to hurl. My head was spinning like a goddamn merry-go-round, my feet felt like lead weights, and my mouth tasted like I'd been licking the bottom of a dumpster.

I felt raw, exposed, the crowd pressing in on all sides like a living, breathing monster. My leather jacket, usually my armor against the world, now felt like it was strangling me. I clawed at the sleeves with fumbling fingers, trying to get some relief.

"Nina!" I hollered, my voice sounding like I'd been gargling gravel. "Where the fuck are you?"

I stumbled through the crowd, bouncing off sweaty bodies like a drunk pinball. And then I saw her. Nina was there, right in the middle of the dance floor, having the time of her fucking life.

With Calvin.

They were grinding against each other, lost in their own little world. Nina's head was thrown back, a carefree laugh on her lips that I could almost hear over the pounding music. Calvin's hands were all over her, and for once, she didn't look like she wanted to puke.

Something ugly twisted in my gut.

We were supposed to be here together, having fun. It was our last party before everyone fucked off to college, or made OnlyFans accounts, or whatever the hell they were gonna do with their lives. But there she was, wrapped up in Calvin's arms, not sparing a single thought for her best friend.

I didn't know why, but it made me angry. And upset. And a whole bunch of other emotions I was too drunk to name. We were supposed to be a team, dammit. Nina and Jane against the world.

When did that change?

I spun around, the world going all funhouse mirror on me, and stumbled through the mob like a zombie. The music thumped through me, rattling my bones, and for a sec, I felt like I was melting into the chaos.

And then—bam!

I slammed into something solid and definitely dude-shaped. Strong hands grabbed me, and I looked up... and up... into Julian Blackwood's face.

Penelope's big bro was a fucking Adonis. His jet-black hair was perfectly messed up, drawing attention to those electric blue eyes. Those peepers seemed to glow in the dark, checking me out with a mix of amusement and something I couldn't place.

His jaw could cut glass, with just enough scruff to be hot, and a worn-out band tee stretched across his shoulders, hinting at the muscle underneath. But it was his mouth that caught my eye—full lips curled into a permanent smirk, like he knew all my dirty secrets.

That smirk got bigger as he took in my disaster look - my beat-up Converses covered in faded high school signatures, ripped jeans digging into my muffin top, and the strip of belly hanging out between my crop top and waistband. His eyes crawled over me like I was a menu, and I felt my face burst into flames.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, voice low and gravelly in a way that made my insides squirm. "If it isn't Oakdale's favorite train wreck."

Anger flared in my gut at his smug-ass tone, but the tequila sloshing through my veins drowned it out quick. I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself with a cactus, to leave me alone with my misery and the bottle of José calling my name.