Spin the Bottle

Chapter 5

I step out onto my porch, breathing in the cool October air.

A car horn beeps.

I look up to see Peter's truck. I open the passenger side door. "I'm guessing Clarity is skipping school?"

Peter shrugs. "I dunno. I was just told to pick you up."

I climb into the truck. I can't help but stare at him.

He's wearing a white shortsleeved shirt and ripped jeans. His beanie is dark blue. He smirks when he catches me staring. "Are you checking me out, Azure?"

My face reddens. "I–I..."

Peter laughs. "I'm just messing with you, Zurey."

I blush even harder at his use of my nickname.

Peter smirks. "I guess I'll be calling you that more often then." He turns toward the road and we start off to school.

I stare down at my phone as Peter drives.

"I realize I don't know much about you," he says. "Tell me about yourself."

I sigh. "Well, for starters, I don't appreciate when people stare at me anywhere from my eyes down."

"Sounds like you've got some pent up rage there."

I ignore Peter. "I also have very sensitive ears, so I have no idea why I agreed to go to that party with you. I like reading and writing. Math kind of sucks. I have minimal people that I call my 'friends' so I wouldn't get too comfortable with this." I motion to the truck around us. "This should only be a one time thing." I think about what else I should say for a moment. "Oh, I think acting would be a cool career. I'm probably going to college for art though."

"I can't help but feel a little hurt by most of this statements," Peter says.

I giggle. "That was the point."

Peter pouts.

"Tell me about you now," I say.

Peter makes a face like he's thinking. "Hm. I like playing football. And video games. I love video games."

I try to stifle my laughter, but fail.

"What?" Peter asks.

"Nothing," I say breathlessly. "I just didn't expect you to like football."

Peter sighs. "Looks like we're here."

We walk into the building together.

As we walk further, Peter's expression suddenly hardens. His green eyes narrow at something in front of us.

"What a slut," I hear someone sneer.

Another person laughs.

Peter clenches his fists. "Don't react, don't react," he mutters to himself.

"Just please leave me alone," a girl pleads.

As we approach them, I see that it's Peter's little sister.

"What would be the fun in that?" a boy asks.

We're right next to them now.

"And besides," the boy continues, "you don't have any say in this, you filthy whore."

That's when Peter breaks. He grabs the boy's hood and yanks him into the air. "I don't appreciate you talking to my sister like that," he snarls.

"I–I...," the boy stammers. His two friends start backing away.