School // j.g. c.c.

Seven

Camila

I immediately regret coming to this party.

I want to go home.

Someone take me home all of these drunk teenagers are giving me anxiety.

"Shawn, I want to go home." I frowned.

"No, you will not be sitting alone at your house listening to Ed Sheeran and eating bananas for the second Saturday night in a row." He frowned.

"Come on," I groaned. "What if I see Nash." I whispered.

"Nash is not an excuse for you to not have fun. You look hot tonight and we are not letting all my work go to waste." Dinah said, referring to her forcing me to wear a dress instead of just jeans.

I sighed, "I'm going to go find someone to mingle with."

"That's the spirt!" Dinah said cheerfully.

"Sure." My tone flat.

I began making my way through sweaty bodies and drunks throughout the house and made my way to the backyard.

It was more peaceful out here, and I saw a near wooden bench swing up ahead past the spacious backyard.

I decided to just sit there and just think, all of the people here were too much to handle.

I walked over to the swing and then realized the closer I got, someone was already sitting there.

But instead I just kept walking closer to see who it was because I actually kinda thought it was Dylan.

Until I stood in front of the bench and it was Jack.

He was holding a beer bottle, and the moonlight hit his face perfectly, he looked like he was thinking about something and I wanted to know what about.

But I don't know what it was about me, he saw me and pulled his eyebrows together as I sat down next to him and looked out at the rest of the backyard, taking in the beautiful night sky.

Seconds passed, and he spoke first.

"What? You're gonna sit next to me and not say anything to me?" His voice was raspy but somehow soft at the same time, I liked it.

"I needed some air." I shrugged, avoiding eye contact.

"Yeah," he sighed and looked down at his bottle. "Me too."

More time passed, and the only noise besides some of the party going on, outside was just crickets and the creaky porch swing as we slowly rocked back and forth.

"How many times," he turned to me and had his eyebrows somewhat pulled together, "do have to say from the bottom of my heart...I'm sorry?" His voice raspy.

He almost sounded tired, or maybe just a little drunk.

I couldn't read his tone.

"Where is Lauren by the way?"

He sighed, "Enough about her. I don't want her anymore." He mumbled.

"Are you only with her because you don't want to be lonely?" I asked him, for the first time looking into his eyes.

"I'm not afraid of being lonely, I know damn well you are. You're petrified, sweetheart." He took a swig of his beer, and looked back at me.

"You don't know me at all, Jack Gilinsky. You cannot tell me what I'm afraid of." I looked away, folding my arms.

"You cold?" He asked, setting his beer on the ground.

"No." I lied.

He began taking off his hoodie, and held it out to me in his hand.