𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒔

eighteen

"i find comfort in the chaos"

The house is packed, bodies pressed together in the dim light as strobe flashes cut through the crowd.

Music pounds through the walls, and it feels like the entire city showed up for this party. AJ, Vicki, Naomi, Melody, Cato, and I walk in together, drawing a few glances because of our matching costumes.

The girls and I are all in tight police outfits, while AJ and Cato play their part in orange prison jumpsuits.

Naomi practically skips to the dance floor, already hyped for the night. "Come on, let's dance!" she yells, tugging Vicki and Melody along. AJ's rolling his eyes at the whole scene.

"You look ridiculous," he says, giving Cato a playful nudge.

Cato just smirks, the same half-smirk he always has, as if nothing fazes him. That quiet, distant attitude—it's what drives me insane sometimes.

No matter what I do, I can never tell what's going on in his head. It's like a puzzle you can't piece together, frustrating.

I don't let it show though. The last thing I'm going to do is let him think I care. I push past them and head toward the kitchen, grabbing a shot off the counter and downing it without hesitation.

I don't care what kind of alcohol it is. Tequila, vodka, rum—alcohol is alcohol.

The burn in my throat is a welcome distraction from the swirling thoughts in my head.

Another shot. A little easier this time.

"Slow down, Gina." Melody's voice reaches me, calm but with that usual motherly concern. Her loving smile always touches that part of my heart that's empty.

She's always been the caring one in our group, the one who checks in when no one else does.

"I'm fine, Mel," I say, flashing her a grin. But even I can hear the hollowness behind it. I'm not fine. I haven't been for a while.

The alcohol starts to hit, loosening the knots in my chest, and I feel myself relax slightly.

AJ's nearby, cracking jokes with a random girl, and Naomi is dancing with a drink in hand like there's no tomorrow.

I take another sip of whatever's in my cup, hoping it'll drown out the weird emptiness that's been gnawing at me lately.

I don't even know why I feel this way tonight—maybe it's because Cato's here, and I can't stop wondering what's going on with him. I get it, the other day must've been pretty traumatic for him, but I don't know what to do.

I grab another drink, intending to join Naomi on the dance floor, but then I freeze. My heart stutters when I see Cato leaning against the kitchen counter, and he's not alone.

There's a girl with him—a random, blond, pretty girl. She's leaning into him, laughing at something he said, and then, just like that, she presses her lips to his.

It's one of Mila's friends.

Something inside me twists.

Jealousy.

It's stupid, but I can't help it. I watch for a second too long, feeling that familiar burn rise in my chest. I hate this feeling, this ache that he can cause just by kissing some random girl.

But I'm not about to let it show.

I take a long gulp from my drink and pull myself together.

Fuck it.

If he can do that, so can I. I spot a guy near the fridge, tall and built, probably a football player judging by the broad shoulders.

I stride over to him with a confidence I don't feel. My heart's still racing, and that jealousy is still simmering, but I push it down.

"Hey," I say, flashing him a smile, leaning in just enough that it's clear what I'm after. He doesn't waste any time, grinning back at me, literally fucking me with his eyes.

"You're with the prison and police group, right?" he asks, stepping closer. "You look great."

"Thanks." My voice is flirty, light. It's a game, just like always. Just like Cato's playing. I can do this too.

Without another word, I close the distance between us and kiss him. His hands move to my waist, and it's all so mechanical, so practiced. It feels like I'm on autopilot. The music's still pounding, and I can barely hear the thoughts in my head anymore. That's exactly what I want.

The kiss should feel good—it should distract me from whatever I'm feeling about Cato.

But it doesn't. My mind drifts, and all I can think about is the way Cato's lips looked against that girl's. The way he didn't seem to care at all.

I pull away from the guy and give him a quick smile before grabbing my drink again. "I'll see you around," I say, slipping away before he can say anything else.

As I turn back toward the kitchen, I catch a glimpse of Cato from the corner of my eye. He's still with that girl, but this time, his gaze is locked on me. Our eyes meet for a brief second, and there's something there—something tense, unreadable. He's frowning.

Why is he frowning? He doesn't have a right to be annoyed, not when he's doing the exact same thing.

I shrug it off, heading back to my friends. The party swirls around me—laughter, music, people dancing, drinking, kissing. It's all a blur, and I'm right in the middle of it, pretending everything's fine. But deep down, there's that hollow feeling again, gnawing at me no matter how much I try to push it away.

I take another drink, hoping it'll help.

It doesn't.