Back Where I Belong

Chapter 12

Zoey's pov

"Well someone's in a much better mood," Luke observes, smiling brightly.

"Calum and I had an enlightening talk on the plane while you, Ash, Peyton, and Michael were fast asleep," I reply, grinning happily. Honestly, I felt great. Like a weight had been lifted form my chest.

"Well that's good. Are you ready to go to this party?" Michael questions, inviting himself into our conversation.

"Nope. I still hate parties. But we kind of have to go," I say.

"Yep. But at least you get to meet the new managers," Calum says, also joining in. Peyton walks over and wraps his arms around my waist. I wait for him to receive glares from the boys. Or orders to remove his arms from my waist. But there was nothing. I'll admit it, I'm honestly surprised.

"Let's go," Ashton exclaims, running past us, out to the car.

"You were the one taking forever to get ready," Luke points out. Ashton either doesn't hear him, or ignores him.

"This place is so crowded!" Peyton yells to me right after we enter the building. I nod, feeling slightly intimidated. My brothers are almost immediately shoved away from us. I tighten my grip on Peyton's hand. I don't want to lose him in this crowd.

Peyton and I carefully maneuver our way through the crowd of people, trying to get to the outskirts of the crowd.

We finally make it and plop down on the couch by each other. I lean my head over and rest it on my boyfriend's shoulder.

"Tired?" Peyton questions, kissing the top of my head.

"Just a little jet lagged," I reply, yawning slightly. He grins and takes my hand again.

"Do you want to go get some food? And maybe something to drink?" I ask after a couple of songs.

"Sure," he replies. Peyton gets up, then offers me his hand. I grin and accept it. He helps me up from my spot on the couch. We intertwine our hands again, then head back into the crowd, fighting our way over to the snack table.

"What is this?" Peyton asks, looking down into his cup.

"It's fruit punch. Duh," I reply.

"It guess. It just looks a little weird," he mutters.

"You look a little weird," I tease. Peyton rolls his eyes, but laughs along with me.

"Cheers," I say, raising my red solo cup. Peyton taps his against mine, then we both drink.

My throat burns as I swallow the fruit punch. I make a face and stop drinking. I look at Peyton and see a similar expression on his face.

"Someone spiked it," he shouts over the music as we both throw our beverages away.

"That explains it. But that was so nasty," I complain, unable to remove the taste from my mouth. Peyton nods.

After a few minutes though, I start to become more relaxed and carefree. So does Peyton. My senses start to go a little fuzzy.

The last thing I remember is dragging get Peyton out on the dance floor.