Open My Eyes

{Ch. 10} An Exchanging of Numbers ✓

          "Hey, babe."

The voices of strangers, the crash of broken glass, and the heavy beat of music made up the background noise. I frowned.

"Where are you?"

"I'm at a party." So dismissive. "Don't worry, Ang. I'm DD, and Niam's one with me."

My frown deepened and I plucked at the hem of my shorts. "Just be careful, okay, Sam?"

I could hear her sigh through the line. "It's been a long time since the last time. This isn't going to be like that, I promise. Niam's with me. He won't let anything happen."

"Still. Underaged drinking, lowered inhibitions, tropical house music. It's a recipe for disaster."

Sam would know that better than anyone.

She chuckled, but I sensed a strain to it. "What are you, my mom?"

"A caring friend who can provide soda and fuzzy socks and romantic comedies."

She was quiet for a moment. "Okay, how about this? One hour here, then Niam and I will leave. I swear on Vanessa's grave."

I pursed my lips, eyes glancing toward the picture on my nightstand. Vanessa smiled out from the silver frame dotted in metal flowers, while I held a makeshift bouquet of dandelions in my hand.

"I'm going to call you in exactly one hour and five minutes, and if you haven't left yet, I'm going to crash it while wearing a dinosaur cap that I knitted myself."

Sam released a laugh. "Your fashion knows no bounds. Okay, you can party-crash if I'm not gone in an hour. I'll text you the address. I love you!"

"I love you too, Sam. Be careful. Be smart."

"Salutatorian, Angie. Salutatorian."

I tossed my phone onto my bed and grabbed the frame of the picture of me and Vanessa. I sat on the window ledge, opening the window to feel the nighttime breeze on my skin. Setting the picture up so Vanessa could stare out at the star-lit sky and glowing cityscape, I let out a long exhale and rested my head against the glass.

It had been over a year since Sam had attended one of those parties. Since meeting her boyfriend, Niam, she hadn't found a reason to impress near-strangers with her dance moves and beer pong expertise. But after dating a year, apparently she felt the need to spread her party-girl wings.

Niam as her companion made me feel better. When I had last drunk with him, he said alcohol left a funky taste in his mouth. And whenever I rode along with them in the car, Niam would turn the music down so the pounding bass didn't give him a headache. Not to mention the boy worshiped the ground Sam walked on, so he would make certain nothing happened to her at this party. But my stomach still squirmed and soured because I wouldn't be there.

Besides, who even held a party on a Monday night, summer break or otherwise?

Eventually, I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my contacts. Kae would be asleep by now—or working on assignments for his summer courses, since he had exams in about a week. Either way, I scrolled past his name.

I tugged on my shirt sleeve. If this party sold itself as a rager, my other high school friends probably went to it with Sam. None of them would answer the phone—sober, at least.

I huffed. My thumb froze at the 'I's. I didn't see Iggy's name on the list.

Face heating up despite the breeze from the window, I asked myself, "Why do I even want his number? I mean, what would we talk about?