Chapter Eight Sam
CHAPTER EIGHT
SAM
Quick glimpses between an array of trees are all I can make out as we turn down the gravel road, but even from a partial view you can’t miss how massive the property is.
Some people have it all, and clearly, whoever lives here has never seen a bad day in their life. How could they? But then again, if I’ve learned anything these past few days, it’s that even rich people can be just as miserable as the rest of us.
Still. It must be nice.
“Whew,” Douglas whistles as he pulls into the driveway. “What I would give to live here.”
We stare out the front window in awe. Just two people caught off guard by how wealthy some people really are on the rich side of town. The vacation homes of politicians, lawyers, and businessmen, all dispersed around and overlooking the lake.
This particular house sits on a hilltop, and the view is nothing short of amazing. It’s a sprawling two-level property with a huge deck that faces Lake Haven and floor-to-ceiling windows that reflect the moonlight.
Douglas brings us to a stop in the sea of parked cars.
Students mill about, laughing and shouting at each other.
The noise from inside the house spills out into the night, a mix of thumping bass and the occasional cheer.
Settled in my seat for a moment longer, I take it all in, my heart pounding in my chest.
What the hell am I doing here?
This isn’t my scene. These people aren’t my friends. Hell, I don’t even like half of them, and I’m pretty sure the feeling is mutual. This world of privilege and excess is so far removed from my own reality that it’s almost laughable.
Almost.
“I can do this,” I encourage myself, only it feels like a lie. I suck in a breath and let my hand rest on the latch of the door for a painfully long minute.
“Look, kid, I have a long night ahead of me,” Douglas says, interrupting my inner struggle.
“Of course. Sorry,” I mutter and exit the car.
The world seems more vibrant on this side of the vehicle.
The voices are louder, the air feels cooler, and a chill runs through me.
I hug myself in a failed attempt to keep warm.
It was probably a bad idea for a miniskirt.
Too late for regrets now. Besides, what’s a night out without a little frostbite in tow?
Taking another deep breath, I brace myself for whatever the night has in store and move ahead.
It isn’t lost on me that no one seems to even notice that I’m here.
They’re caught up in their own worlds tonight, oblivious to what’s going on around them.
The girl taking selfies is unfazed by another girl puking her brains out by a tree a few feet away.
A guy tossing a football nearly slams into someone and couldn’t care less.
There’s serenity in being unseen, a luxury I unfortunately never get to experience. My whole life, eyes have been on me for one reason or another. So, oddly enough, I welcome the invisibility.
The path toward the door is littered with red plastic cups, and the second I step inside, the heavy bass of the music hits me like a physical force. Bodies in expensive clothes press in from all sides, packed tight like sardines.
The smells of alcohol and weed blend together and make my head spin. I push through the crowd, trying to find a space to breathe. It’s suffocating, cloying, and I can almost taste the bitterness on my tongue.
Everywhere I move, there’s someone there, bumping me, making it hard for me to maneuver through the space. I’ve only been here a few minutes, and it’s already the kind of sensory overload that makes your eardrums ache.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I force my feet to keep moving because turning back now isn’t an option. Not when I’ve come this far.
Three girls come stumbling down the stairs, one barely able to stand as her friends help her move toward the front door.
I recognize her. We’ve never spoken, and I don’t know her name, but she was talking to Everest when I arrived on campus.
She’s wasted, head bobbing, and trips over the foot of a guy on the couch making out with some girl.
Completely oblivious while the poor girl’s friends struggle to get her back on her feet.
Bad things happen to girls every day at college parties, and oftentimes, no one is ever held accountable for it. The scene twists a knot of anxiety in my stomach. She’s lucky to have her friends, and hopefully she gets home safely.
“Sam!” someone yells, their voice a loud streak. A flash of pink catches my eye, and before I can react Christina is on me, her icy blue gaze locking me between a blonde and a hard place. “I thought you were going to chicken out.”
Gracie warned me to be careful with Christina and her crew.
She’s been a little cagey on the details, but I don’t usually stick my nose in other people’s mess.
I have enough of my own. Besides, I can take care of myself.
Tonight is about doing something different and trying to make the most of this opportunity.
Christina looks me over, taking in my outfit. “Hot. Love the curly bun.”
I force a smile to match her enthusiasm. Not a hair out of place, and her makeup is flawless.
Grasping at straws to return her energy, I say, “I love your dress.”
Christina’s already chipper expression only grows. She gives me a pose, and turns, poking her butt out slightly in my direction. “I know, right. It makes my ass look so good.”
She’s not wrong, the dress does make her look good. It should since it looks expensive and will probably end up at the back of her closet never to be seen again.
“Oh. And thank you for sending the Ryde. That was cool of you.” I tap her elbow before awkwardly dropping my hand. “You didn’t have to roll out the red carpet, a regular Ryde would have been fine.”
“Oh, girl… I never ride in anything that cost less than sixty thousand. Besides, we’re friends now, so forget about it.”
Just as the declaration leaves her pink painted lips, she snatches a drink from some poor, unsuspecting fool who is on his way to the other side of the room.
“Here.” She thrusts it into my hand. “And friends don’t let friends party without alcohol.”
He glares at Christina, the silent anger behind his eyes making me feel bad for him.
But by the way he shrugs and turns back toward the kitchen, something tells me this isn’t the first time something like this has happened.
If I’ve learned anything about Christina it’s that she and her little friends run this school.
The cup is cold and the scent of alcohol immediately floods my senses. I hold it awkwardly, like it’s a live grenade.
“Thanks.” The word is barely audible over the pounding music. I don’t drink at parties. Being aware of myself and the things that happen around me are far more important than getting a buzz. So, while I might have accepted Christina’s offering, I won’t be drinking.
I glance around, searching for an escape.
Christina watches me, her smile sharp and knowing. She thinks she has me figured out, thinks I’m just another girl desperate to fit in.
“Now that that’s settled, let’s have some fun.” Her voice is bright and insistent, like she’s doing me some type of favor. Christina grabs my arm, pulling me close to the center of her world.
My feet move even though everything in me is telling me to turn the other way. As we draw closer to her friends, they close in around me, a circle of polished nails and designer smiles.
Christina gives her friends a devilish grin and tilts her head toward the large mahogany dining table. They return her smile, theirs just as mischievous.
One after another, they hold out a hand for the closest boy to help them use the chairs as stepping stools and climb up onto the table.
“Come, dance with us,” Christina suggests.
The guys start to huddle around the table, their eyes glued to the girls. It’s perverted the way they stare, pounding their fist in the air and cheering. The girls live for the attention, and they’ll obviously take it in whatever form they can get it.
Definitely not my scene.
“Where’s the bathroom?” The words come out rushed, a lifeline if I ever needed one.
She waves a hand, dismissive and full of annoyance. “Upstairs. End of the hall, last—”
Her attention shifts as a new song blasts through the speakers, the crowd going wild. The rest of her directions are swallowed by the noise.
I don’t bother asking again. Instead, I turn and push through the bodies, each step taking me farther from the chaos. The drink is still clutched in my hand, untouched and unwanted. I leave it on the mantel next to the staircase, where it’ll be for the rest of the night.
I take the stairs two at a time, eager to put distance between me and the rest of the party. The air is cooler up here, and the music is a distant thrum beneath my feet. The hallway stretches out before me, quiet, and oddly peaceful compared to the madness below.
It’s a world apart from the paper-thin walls of the house I left behind. I heard everything there.
Pushing the thoughts away, I try to remember which room Christina mentioned, but all I can recall is that it was at the end of the hall. I take a chance and continue forward. Pushing the last door open, I expect to see a bathroom but stop dead in my tracks at what I find instead.
On the other side of the door is a nearly naked guy. He’s tall and muscular, with a body that screams athlete. But it’s the bulge behind his towel that catches my attention, sizable enough like it’s got its own presence.
“What are you doing?”
It’s not until I make eye contact that I realize it’s the guy from my physics class, Mountain. He stares at me, a mix of surprise and annoyance on his face.
“Sorry.” The word is weak, almost drowned out by the thump of my own heartbeat. My eyes drop back to his towel.
“Get out.” His voice is stern, but more annoyed than angry. A chick just barged in and nearly saw his holy gift, and he’s acting like it happens every day.
I close the door, and I don’t get more than a millisecond to register it all before a deep voice behind me startles me.
“Why the fuck are you here?”