"Trust Me."

[1]

I felt blinded by the flashing lights that kept me in the spotlight of all these drunk college losers. Which was the exact opposite from what I needed: to be hidden. I pushed past multiple couples bumping and grinding on each other in search of a doorknob. After a minute or two of groping the wall blindly with my hands, I found what felt like a knob and turned it.

Walking inside that room was like walking into a whole different house. After shutting the door you could still faintly hear the dumb pop song that was played 173,988,099 times on the daily. I fell back onto a bed, resting my tired eyes.

I wanted to leave this party so horribly bad, but I couldn't leave my best friend --- who was incredibly smashed --- here and allow her to drive herself home. I would have to drive her home in her car and take my car home, which I had left parked in her driveway.

I sat up and checked my phone, wondering if I had gotten any new messages and surely I had about 30. Mostly a drunken spam from my best friend. 'God, can't she take one minute without me?' I thought. Not entirely willingly, I got up to go search for the missing, Amber Hale.

Well technically, I was missing but the specifics don't really matter, do they? Reaching for the doorknob, I'm thrown aback as someone pushes against the other side of the door, swinging it open.

The first thing that hit me was the faint smell of beer lingering on this boy's mouth. He was kind of cute with his soft brown eyes and his slightly awkward smile. He stepped closer to me as if to hold me but I stepped back. I have no idea who this guy is and under no circumstances is he to touch me although he's kind of cute...

He attempted to cradle my waist again but I slid his large hands off my waist. "Um, excuse me? If you could get your hands off me? It'd be appreciated, thanks."

I grunted at the force I had to use to remove his wandering hands once more. "It's me, Scott. Scott," he laughs in a drunken daze, "McCall."

I tried pushing past him, but he grabs my wrist with both hands, trying to pull me to him. "I don't know you! You're drunk, alright?"

Then, I did the only thing I could in this situation. He could raped me for all I know! I slapped him. Hard.

The boy instantly felt the red mark on his face where I had slapped him.

I run past him thinking that this is the only time I could get away from him without any physical anything.

I pried open the door, racing out into the party crowd. Pushing past drunken couples falling on top of each other or taking each other to a bedroom to, well, you know.  I peeked into the backyard to see if Amber was there but she wasn't. Then, I remembered her boyfriend was here. Ugh, God please tell me they didn't 'get a room'.

I began to open every bedroom door in the house. The first one was completely empty. Second, a couple on top of each other. Third, a bathroom with some girl that was throwing up everywhere like --- everywhere. Fourth, finally, I found them.

Amber and her boyfriend Drew were sprawled on top of each other making out atop the bed. I attempted to pry him off of her but I wasn't succeeding. "Why don't you join the party?" He whispered in my ear huskily. "Ew." I mumbled in disgust.

I was able to get her to her feet and drag her through the kitchen, the living room, and finally the front door. "Carmen, where are we going?" She mumbled drunkenly.

"Home," I replied.

"My parents are gonna kill me if they see me like this." She whined, rubbing her hand on her face.

"Trust me, they're not home. There out eating with my parents," I assured her. She simply nodded as I sat her in the passenger seat of her black Mercedes.

We arrive at her home within 5 minutes of leaving the party. Pulling into her driveway, I raced to the passenger's side trying to get her through her front door and to her bedroom before her parents would get home.

I lay her on her bed and race downstairs to get her a glass of water and a particularly ugly bucket to throw up in --- just in case she did. Setting both down beside her bed, I tucked her in and headed down the stairs.

Hopping in my own car, I drove home feeling a lot more accomplished than I did when I first got to the party. I wished I would never saw that drunk, 'Scott McCall', jerk-off again.