Chapter 2
Declan, Present
I’m not sure if this was the right thing to do.
But here I am. Standing in front of Grant Caldwell’s house, one of the biggest assholes in school, to take my new friend to his party.
Landon just transferred to King’s Heart for his senior year. I don’t know him that well yet, but he doesn’t seem to be as well off as everyone else at our shitty, pretentious private school. And he’s also got some weird mysterious shit going on with Grant.
Apparently, Landon has been to this house before, as is obvious by his gawking now that we’ve walked up.
“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” he says uneasily.
I pat his shoulder without looking up from my phone, sending a quick text that I’m here and safe to my group chat with Harold and Nancy. I pocket my phone and look up at Landon. “Ready?”
I try to fake sounding excited and confident.
My hands shake at my sides, so I squeeze them into fists a few times to settle them. It doesn’t fucking work.
“This looks really crazy,” he mumbles as his eyes scan the lawn.
I look with him, cataloguing the crushed solo cups and drunk people stumbling around.
Someone shrieks from inside the house and my body sheets itself with a cold dread that converges into a rock in my stomach.
Flashes start playing in front of my eyes.
Drinks.
More drinks.
Getting in the car.
A hand.
Another shriek pulls me out of the memories.
I came here for Landon—mostly. He’s suddenly questioning his sexuality after eighteen years of thinking he was completely straight.
So I suggested that we go to Grant’s party.
Grant has one every year and they are always absolutely nuts.
Filled with people doing crazy shit and regretting it in the morning.
Or that’s what I’ve heard, anyway. I’ve never actually been to one of these parties—only seen people post about them on social media. From what I’ve gathered, it’s not really a here’s an invite thing. More of a I don’t know you but come inside because we’re all getting fucked up kind of thing.
So, I know I’m probably not welcome, per se—especially because Grant is Javier’s best friend—but I don’t really think it matters.
No one will probably even notice me. Seemed like the perfect place for him to find a guy to hook up with and see if he liked it.
Or maybe even hook up with Grant so I can tell him that I was right about the sexual chemistry that Landon denies with all his heart.
But also, I came for me. I thought it might help. Exposure therapy, if you will.
I shake my head and try to reassure him with a light pat on his forearm, even though he’s probably right. We should leave. “I know. But I promise, no one is even going to notice you. It’s all so insane—everyone is either too drunk or too worried about themselves to be noticing anything else.”
I nod, ignoring every instinct in my body telling me to turn and run the other way. Grabbing his hand, I will my feet to move toward the entrance, acting like his fearless leader who has definitely been here before as I take us through the front door and into the throngs of people.
So. Many. Fucking. People.
Everyone’s sweaty bodies are right against each other. And this is a big-ass space.
My heartbeat picks up as I push against the crowd, trying to make my way through and pretend like I’m not on the verge of a panic attack. I turn back to Landon. “Come on! Let’s go get a drink!”
I face forward again and keep my head down, focusing on my breathing as I watch my feet move around all the other ones surrounding me. Then there’s less and less other feet, and when I look up, we’ve made it into the much-less-crowded kitchen area.
I grab some random unopened bottles of beer out of the massive fridge and crack them open before handing one to Landon.
He looks hesitantly at it. I’m about to tell him that he doesn’t have to drink if he doesn’t want to, when he throws back two large gulps.
Well, I guess he’s good with it.
I pretend to take a sip too, letting the liquid slosh against my lips but refusing to open my mouth.
We’re not going that far with the exposure therapy tonight.
Landon keeps drinking as we talk in the kitchen. Like I told him, no one really cares that we’re here. They don’t even notice. They’d definitely ask me to leave if they were aware at all. Everyone is so disgustingly, blackout drunk.
It makes my stomach clench a bit every time someone who’s obviously wasted stumbles past us.
Is anyone looking out for—
“I think I’ll have another one.”
I stop mid-thought and look over at Landon’s goofy smile just in time to see him push by me and get another beer from the fridge.
“Um,” I mutter at his back. “Maybe you should slow down a second?”
He ignores me and quickly finishes the second beer, all the hesitancy from earlier drained from his actions. Then he finishes another. When he reaches for one again, I grab onto his hand, stopping him.
He smiles at me. Landon is a smiley guy, but this one is a little unhinged, even for him. Super wide and ecstatic.
I don’t know how much he’s drunk in the past, but the look on his face is telling me he’s right on the edge of getting a little lost in all of this.
“Come on, we’re gonna go dance,” I say, trying to distract him as I pull him out to where everyone else is dancing.
Landon is all game for that and when the beat of the song drops, he moves like no one is watching, which is a little funny, so I laugh and dance along with him.
For half a second, I forget all the panic. I forget why I’m even afraid to be here. It feels nice.
And then I see an unfamiliar pair of hands on Landon. I can’t tell who they belong to. They slip around his waist, and he’s having so much fun that he doesn’t even notice.
The panic flares in my chest. Tight and all encompassing. I quickly smack the hands away, but they’re replaced by another pair coming from a different direction.
My chest starts heaving as I grab him and try to haul him away.
I push through people, tripping over mine and everyone else’s feet until we’ve reached a part of the dance floor that’s not so crowded.
I don’t see any more hands, so I try to focus on my breathing.
Inhale. Hold it.
One.
Two.
Three.
Exhale.
I feel a little better. A tendril of dread stays right behind my ribcage, but the bulk of it has lessened.
Landon, meanwhile, dances through it all. No idea what the fuck is happening.
Jesus Christ.
We should probably just go.
I’m about to tell him so, when my eyes catch on a brooding figure just outside the crowd.
Two figures, actually.
Grant sits lazily in a huge black sofa-chair, staring intently at Landon. No. Glaring at Landon.
And right next to him, Javi glares too, but at me.
The panic that was left flees, leaving space for rage to take its place.
What does he get to be mad at? Not me.
He’s the one who let me down.
The one who believed all the wrong things. The one who left me there.
An idea hits me. One that will help me and Landon.
I know it’s low. I know it’s petty. But I want to hurt Javi. Just like he hurt me. And maybe it will, or maybe he really doesn’t care anymore and will just find me pathetic.
Only one way to find out.
“Landon!”
His head tilts down at me. “Look.” I incline my head toward Grant.
Landon looks, his eyes locking onto Grant’s glare before he pulls his attention back to me.
“Do you trust me?” I yell over the booming music around us.
“Uh. Yeah?”
“Okay. Now, don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”
I grab onto his face and pull it to mine, smashing our lips together.
Landon and I don’t feel that way about each other, so from the moment of contact, it has the distinct taste of awkwardness woven into it.
It’s especially prevalent in the way he stands shell-shocked and unmoving.
“Come on,” I murmur against his frozen lips, doing my best to move mine against his and really sell this.
But before he can jump on board, he’s snatched away from me. I’m able to see Grant’s buzzed, dark hair just before they both disappear around the corner.
Now that I have a moment to breathe, and I’m not looking into the eyes of a certain ghost from my past, regret and shame wash over me.
Sure, now we know that Grant is full of shit when he acts like he hates Landon, so I did help Landon see that a bit, but now he’s alone in this huge party and I’m stuck with the feeling that I acted like an immature brat, putting my own shit above whatever Landon actually needed
I go to step in the direction that they both disappeared in, when fingers wrap around my arm, sending my body skyrocketing into survival mode. I wrench my arm out of their grasp, whipping around to meet Javi’s narrowed eyes.
We stare at each other.
I can feel myself coming down from the adrenaline, but I’m sure I still look like a scared, cornered animal. My body is low, poised to bolt—breathing heavily while my eyes watch for any type of movement from him.
“What is your problem?!” he yells over the music.
I don’t answer, so he takes a step forward.
I run.
I know he’s not a real threat, I think, but my brain doesn’t seem to care right now.
It’s been teetering right on the edge of complete and overwhelming panic since the moment I arrived at this party with the dumbass idea that it might help.
Spoiler Alert: It didn’t. And now I’m full-on fleeing like my life depends on it.
I push everyone out of my way, trying to run as fast as I can with all the obstacles around. I make it to the front door. It’s already thrown open, so I go to hurl myself out when I see a familiar figure in the driveway.
He’s so carefree, stepping out of his stupid fucking car he takes such good care of. Laughing with some guys as he flips his flowy blond hair out of his face.
Fuck no.
I change direction, running deeper into the house, not daring to look back to see if Javi is gaining on me, or if he’s still there.
At this point, it doesn’t even matter if I’m being chased, I’ll probably be running forever.