Stay Close✔️

35: Monsters in the Kitchen

35: Monsters in the Kitchen

The second round of Terror turned out to be a lot easier. I didn't need Emmett's help quite so much, and I learned that you didn't have to run to be good. If your hiding place was good enough, you could scroll through Instagram or play 1010! on your phone while peoples' footsteps pattered by and giggles or screams could be heard.

That's exactly what I did. There was some sort of office off to the side, and there was a large model boat against the wall. I crawled inside and laid there for the length of the thirty minutes we had.

The Runners won each game we played, not surprisingly.

"Want a drink?" Garrett asked the group of us. We each nodded and, in spite of the evident offer, got drinks ourselves. All except for a few of the girls. The guys came back with several bottles filled with disgustingly yellow liquids.

I was handed one and looked with wide eyes at it. A few curious glances pushed me to take a drink of the rancid substance.

Chuckling, Emmett leaned down and said, "You don't have to."

"I know," I muttered, taking another gulp and subtly holding my breath in the process. It was an acquired taste, as I'd often heard. I'd noticed that most people who drank beer seemed to have grown up around those who also drank. Take Selena's dad, for example.

Take me, for example; my parents didn't drink save for the occasional celebratory champagne or wine on the night out. We didn't have a drop of alcohol in our house. I hated beer.

As I forced the drink down my throat, I received a few chuckles from those who knew it wasn't my preferred beverage. Selena's fist pumped in the air as she chanted, "Chug, chug, chug!"

She was definitely borderline tipsy.

"What time is it?" I asked Emmett.

He glanced at his watch and said, "Almost two." I was growing tired. Emmett was the designated driver, and I'd kept a close watch on how much he drank. He had only had a few drinks and then surrendered his bottle to Selena.

"Y'all ready?" Selena asked, her voice slurring on the word "y'all." Shrugging, I looked to Emmett and he nodded. "Let's grab P.J."

I resisted the urge to laugh and finished off the bottle so I wouldn't have to carry it home. Emmett grinned and found J.P. in a throng of boys from CHS. They all seemed pretty harmless—none were invited, but they were all very sober juniors who were probably out past curfew—but one continuously eyed the girls who wore shorter skirts.

I didn't know exactly what he was thinking, but I knew it had nothing to do with curiosity as to how they weren't shivering in their heels.

Selena grabbed another bottle from the slowly emptying table and held it up. "Cheers!" she yelled.

"For what?" I asked, frowning as everyone held up their bottle at the call.

She frowned, as if having forgotten that one was usually drinking to a person or thing when one said that word. Finally, she held it up and said, "To Louise's first game of Terror!"

More people rose their bottles this time and yelled, "Yeah!" or "Whoop!"

Most were probably too drunk to even have deciphered the incredibly complicated code in which the words were spoken in, to be honest. Selena took a swig of the new bottle and I grabbed it from her hand.

"Hey!"

"It's a thirty minute drive. If I'm going to deal with this, I may need another drink." She yawned and leaned heavily over my shoulder, wrapping her arm around me with a smile.