Life of the Party (Wayward #1)

CHAPTER 41

My eighteenth birthday was in less than a week. I was sorting through the mail, looking for the card my grandma sent me every year. I knew there’d be a twenty-five-dollar check inside, which I could put to good use right up my nose.

Every little bit helped. The cocaine just wasn’t as rewarding as it used to be. I still loved it, it still felt amazing, but I had to do more and more of the drug to get as high as I once did, and the buzz didn’t last near as long. All of my tips now went towards my drug habit so I could chase down the high I was craving, but it just wasn’t as…satisfying as it used to be.

Still, happy birthday to me.

I ripped open the envelope and briefly scanned the rhyming poem inside the card. My grandma continued to pick out birthday cards meant for little girls, covered with balloons and puppies and dolls, but I didn’t mind. I set the card on the counter, displaying it proudly, and pocketed the check from inside.

As excited as I was, it saddened me a little, to think of my birthday. Remembering all the dreaming Riley and I had done, all the party plans we’d made. He was already eighteen, he’d turned eighteen months ago—a day we’d looked forward to for years, a day I’d never imagined we wouldn’t spend together. I wondered how he’d celebrated finally being legal. Chips and pop with Emily?

I hadn’t really thought about Riley since the night his voice abruptly entered my mind. Sometimes it was inevitable; if we were driving past his house or if I saw something that reminded me of him, his face would flash before my eyes. I wouldn’t let myself dwell though; I’d push the image away, ignoring it as best I could.

Now, carefully, I allowed myself a moment to wonder what Riley was doing, who he was doing it with, if he was happy, and if he’d found what he was looking for.

I wondered if he ever thought of me. Or if he’d forgotten all about me.

The sadness bubbled up again, the pain fresh and raw, reminding me why I was forbidden to think about him. I couldn’t let my guard down, even a little bit, or I’d be crippled by the gnawing ache.

I missed him. As much as I wanted to deny it, as badly as I wanted those feelings to go away, to just disappear, I missed Riley with all of my heart. There was nothing I could do but push it away, bury it down deep, and pretend it didn’t exist.

I was doing the same with my family. I hadn’t seen or spoken to them since Marcy’s wedding. I wouldn’t dream of heading over there for Sunday supper; I wasn’t sure the invitation still stood.

It was nice to be free of them. This time last year, they’d been bugging me about school supplies and class registrations and college applications. Not anymore. Somehow—I don’t know, a miracle from heaven maybe—I’d actually graduated high school. My real diploma came in the mail one day, and my transcripts showed I passed every class, though just barely. I hung the paper happily on the fridge, my ticket to freedom, the approval I needed to keep enjoying my life just the way it was.

And it was awesome. I loved being on my own, doing my own thing, taking care of myself. I loved my new friends and my boyfriend and partying with them and just living for a good time. I was young, and invincible, and there wasn’t anything I was going to miss out on. The summer may’ve been gone, but the rest of my life stretched on before me, limitless in its potential, budding with possibilities.

I sighed contentedly and kept rifling through the mail, spotting another envelope addressed to me, one I didn’t recognize at all. It was thick and plain white. Curiously, I ripped it open, recognizing Grey’s inky scrawl spread across the page. Hastily, I read his written words.

Hey, happy birthday. I know it’s early, but I wanted to give you your present now.

Your flight leaves Friday at four, and I’ll be there to pick you up. You’d better be

ready for the best weekend of your life. See you soon.

Love, Grey.

I read and reread the letter over and over again, my lips curving into a smile.

Grey and the guys were still at the studio. They’d hoped to be done already, but hit a snag when some of the songs were erased or something. The last time we spoken, he broke the news that they wouldn’t be back in time for my birthday. I was disappointed, it was hard not to be, but I tried not to let it bother me. Even though it wouldn’t be the same, we could celebrate whenever he got back.

Apparently, that wasn’t good enough for him. I nearly squealed with excitement as I pored over the ticket he’d given me, memorizing my flight times and gate numbers. That was by far the best birthday present I’d ever received. I couldn’t wait to call him, to say thank you.

Charlie came into the kitchen then, still in her pyjamas, obviously hungover from the night before. I smiled at her, cautiously. Things were tense between us. I think she secretly hated that Grey and I had reconciled—that he’d been out to see me, that he called me every day. The moment she heard about the weekend we’d spent together and the song he wrote for me, her entire attitude towards me changed, like she resented me now or something.

I didn’t go to the clubs with her anymore; I really didn’t want to; I was content enough to stay at home and do some coke and wait for Grey to call. She still went out every night after work and got super wasted, sometimes she didn’t even come home. I worried about her, but every time I broached the subject, I almost got my head bit off.

Charlie glared at me, her blue eyes glazed beneath her heavy lids as she opened the refrigerator. I tried not to mind her resentment, though I really didn’t deserve it. I tiptoed around her, trying to be patient, trying to understand. The drugs helped.

“Where’d you go last night?” I set her pile of mail on the counter next to her.

She drank some orange juice straight from the container and wiped her lips on the sleeve of her housecoat. “Out.” She replied, glancing at her mail, taking another swig.

“Was it fun?”

“Loads.”

“Cool.”

That was the extent of our conversation, but it was actually an improvement.

“Oh, how sweet,” Charlie picked up the birthday card I’d gotten from my grandma. “Wait. Does this mean you’re going to come out with me this weekend? To celebrate your eighteenth?” She seemed to brighten at the thought.

“Uh…no.” I avoided her hopeful gaze. “I’m sorry, I can’t. Grey sent me a plane ticket…I’m going to fly up there for the weekend.” I admitted, bracing myself for her reaction.

Her face fell, her blue eyes narrowing. “Oh.”

“You could come with me? Between the two of us, we could get another ticket. ”

Charlie chuckled darkly. “Thanks for the pity invite, Mac. I’d love to come and be your third-wheel for the weekend.” She scoffed. “Please. I’m not that pathetic.”

“I don’t think you’re pathetic at all.”

“Whatever. I can’t come anyway, I’ve got plans.”

“Charlie, come on. You don’t have plans. Come with me. I don’t like to think of you sitting here alone, all by yourself, for the whole weekend.”

“You worry about me?” She raised an eyebrow, like she didn’t believe it.

“Yes, I do,” I admitted.

Charlie scoffed. “Yeah, right. Do me a favour, Mac. Cut the bullshit, and just worry about yourself.” She put the juice back in the fridge and slammed the door shut. The noise made me jump. “Besides, I’m not going to be alone.” She smiled at me wickedly and then stalked out of the kitchen.

I wanted to ask her what she meant. I wanted to beg her not to do anything stupid, but she shut her bedroom door in my face, just like she’d done in our friendship.

Effectively keeping me out of it.