Raw [#Wattys2015]

Chapter 2

I think it's possible that my body is just a carrier of a sixty year old woman because my ears simply cannot handle music at this volume. Seriously, how can anyone stand music this loud? I mean, let's just be honest, nobody can really find this level of noise enjoyable. I can feel the bass vibrating the strands of my hair for crying out loud!

You can't hear anything over this noise, much less carry on a conversation. What happened to good ole' fashioned conversation?

"Sure ...ou ... ant ... rink?" Maggie asks me, while not bothering to actually look at me. Her long, chestnut hair is falling around her face as she speaks to me and her hazel eyes are turned towards Brandon.

"What?" I ask, leaning up on my toes to shout in her ear. In times like these, when I need a megaphone for her to hear me, it'd be really nice to own a pair of heels or have a best friend who isn't six inches taller than me. Sure, I'm only a hair taller than five feet tall but still, Maggie get's blessed with an average height yet she still feels compelled to wear heels? If she is going to insist on wearing heels, I feel it's only fair that in insist on hanging out in quieter places so that I don't have to strain my calf muscles for her to hear me.

"Do! You! Want! A! Drink!" she shouts back, one word at a time like I'm some half deaf, mostly illiterate person who can't read lips.

I shake my head and continue to nurse the ice water in my solo cup. Before arriving, I had decided on impulse that I was drinking myself into oblivion tonight, but it only took three seconds of attendance here to quickly change that plan. I have no desire to be bumped and grinded on by these fresh, twenty-one year old boys and me drinking is a sure way for that to end up happening.

I do not hold alcohol well. It's a well known fact. Instead of being funny and brave, I turn into an obnoxious lush usually resulting in majorly embarrassing myself and my friends. Besides, these are Maggie's kid brother's friends. If I do something regrettable, I'll hear about it for the rest of my life.

"Is Charleigh coming tonight?" I ask her, once again stressing my poor calf muscles so that I can speak into her ear. I really hope she is on the way, because like me, Charleigh practices walking the line more often than not. She has a pretty stressful home life, so remaining focused is key for her. She will never leave the trailer park behind if she doesn't. Maggie and I recently met Charleigh during a new year's eve party and while Maggs was busy getting her groove on, Charleigh and I bonded over our hate for chaotic night life. She would without a doubt, hate this party as much as I do and it'd be nice to have someone in my corner.

Not that Maggie isn't in my corner right now, because technically she is, but she's to busy sucking face with her hot marine fiancé to notice that she's in a corner at all, much less mine.

"I don't think so. She said her mom was sick again." Maggie shouts down at me, then raises her brows at me suggestively.

It didn't take us long to figure out that her mother's sicknesses are result of repeat domestic violence issues. Charleigh's dad is an abusive drunk or something and every time he beats on her mom, Charleigh stays home to lick her wounds.

I frown, making a mental note to call her when I leave to make sure she is okay.

Just as I raise my ice water to take a sip, I'm elbowed in my upper arm by Maggie's bony elbow. "Ian's here! He just walked in!" She is shouting gleefully this time at least, instead of like she's talking to a small child with hearing problems.

"Ian! Over here!" she waves him over and I groan, but apparently not loud enough because Maggie doesn't bat an eye. I cross my arms over my chest, hiding the minimal amount of b-cup cleavage my graphic, v-neck tee shows and lean against the wall.