Terms and Agreements (on hold indefinitely)

The Part Where I'm at a Party with Mr. Hot Stuff and too much Happens

                                                                              3

We arrived at Emerson Blakely's house around 7:40, and Wes and Jenna ran off to mingle and talk about The Event and ask people what they thought the first task was going to be.

So that left me and Mr. Hot Stuff standing there in the yard, in awkward silence. I cleared my throat as he lifted a cigarette to his mouth.

"Mwat?" He asked, his lips pressed together tightly to keep the tiny death stick in place.

Placing my hands on my hips, I replied, "you're not supposed to smoke around me. It was part of the deal, remember?"

He lifted an eyebrow, but lit the cigarette anyway. When he blew the first puff of suffocating smoke from his lips, I decided to invoke my right to leave.

"Bye," I said curtly, and turned on my heel, heading back to my car.

A second later he was jogging up beside me. "Alison, wait."

"Why, so you can give me lung cancer from all of your second hand smoke?" I asked, not turning to look at him but continuing to march to my vehicle. "I think not."

"I won't do it again," he said.

I scoffed, halting and turning to glare at him. "Yeah right."

"No, seriously, I need a bodyguard, so I'll agree to all of your terms and conditions," he said, grinning.

"But you skipped reading them, didn't you?" I said, hands on my hips again. "Just scrolled right through."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, looking over the yard as other people milled around, the sound of loud bass pulsating from the huge modern-style house before us.

"Look, just stay, okay?" He said, and suddenly his eyes were fixated on mine. His gaze was penetrating, and I felt a little...flustered, I suppose.

But I held his gaze. I was the alpha here. "Why should I? I don't even know you, my friends aren't even with me, and that stupid Event is happening. There's nothing for me here, but there's a Redbox down the street with my name on it."

He looked at me in amusement for a second before I added, "figuratively of course, because I don't vandalize."

A small laugh escaped him at that, and I just shifted my weight, looking at him indifferently.

He continued to gaze into my eyes. "Please?" He asked quietly.

I rolled my eyes, exhaling loudly. "Fine."

"Yes!" He said, starting forward as if to hug me, but I pushed him away.

"No hugging, and you only have two strikes left."

"Okay," he said, rolling his eyes, "can we go inside now?"

"Do we have to?" I whined, slouching. Ugh. Just the thought of a bunch of already-drunk, sweaty, slutty, stupid nutcase teenagers rubbing all against each other while too-loud music blasted my ears to the point of making me sick in a crowded, stuffy room was enough to make me go home.

"Yeah, it's a party," he coaxed, chuckling.

"Fine, but I'm not drinking." I muttered, stalking toward the house. "And neither are you, for that matter, Mister!" I added, pointing at him accusingly.

"God, Alison, you sound like my sister," he joked as we entered the front door, the bass already rattling my bones.

"Speaking of your sister," I began, finally getting an opportunity to ask who the kid was, "who was that little girl you were carrying? Was she your sister, too?"