Beautifully Wrong - Rafe Cameron

VII

Saturday night descended over the Outer Banks with the kind of balmy, sticky heat that made everything feel a little more intense. The Kook house party was already in full swing by the time Indiana and Percy arrived. Music pounded through the walls, vibrating the air with a mix of bass-heavy beats and laughter. The driveway was packed with cars, and the lawn was littered with partygoers holding red solo cups, most of whom were already tipsy.

Indiana adjusted the strap of her dress, trying not to let the nervous energy bubbling in her chest show. She hadn't even wanted to go to this party, but she'd accidentally mentioned it to Percy earlier in the day. He'd immediately latched onto the idea, insisting that they go. Percy had been eager for a night out, and Indiana hadn't had the heart—or the energy—to argue with him. So here she was, accompanying her brother to a party she would have preferred to avoid.

She wore a short fitted low waisted silver skirt  that clung to her curves, and a top, a typical outfit of the summer parties in outer banks. Her hair was loose, cascading down her back in soft waves. She had to admit she looked good—better than she had in a while. The boot might have been a buzzkill, but she wasn't about to let it ruin the night. Percy had assured her that no one would even notice, and he was probably right.

She scanned the crowd as they made their way through the front yard. Kooks and Pogues alike were mingling, most of them well into their cups. Rafe was nowhere to be seen, which was fine by her. She wasn't sure she was ready to face him again after the weirdness earlier that day.

"Indie, you good?" Percy's voice cut through her thoughts. He was already a few drinks deep, his grin wide and unsteady.

"Yeah, I'm good," she lied, giving him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Let's go get a drink."

The kitchen was crowded, but they managed to squeeze through to the makeshift bar. Indiana grabbed a beer, popping the cap off with practiced ease. She took a long swig, feeling the cold liquid slide down her throat, the alcohol settling in her stomach with a warm buzz. Percy was already chatting up some girl by the counter, his laugh loud and boisterous.

Indiana rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling a little. This was typical Percy, getting wasted and flirting with every girl he saw. She took another drink, letting the alcohol work its way through her system, loosening the tension in her shoulders.

As the night wore on, she found herself gravitating toward the living room, where the music was louder and the lights were dimmer. A group of people had started dancing, and she felt the familiar pull of the beat. The beer had done its job, and she was feeling more relaxed, more confident. The pain in her ankle was a dull throb, easily ignored in favor of the rhythm that thrummed through her veins.

She stepped into the mass of bodies, moving with the music. Her hips swayed in time with the beat, her hands running through her hair as she lost herself in the moment. She could feel eyes on her, admiring and envious glances, but she didn't care. This was her time, her moment to forget about everything—about Rafe, about her shitty week, about the constant grind of trying to make ends meet.

A few guys tried to get her attention, but she brushed them off with a smile and a shake of her head.

When she finally pulled herself away from the dance floor, her skin was slick with sweat, and her head was spinning pleasantly. She found Percy in the kitchen again, but this time he wasn't flirting. He was slumped against the counter, a vacant expression on his face as he stared at his drink.

"Percy, you okay?" Indiana asked, nudging him.

He looked up at her, his eyes glassy and unfocused. "Indie... I think I had too much..."