Let’s Go Ravens!
LET’S GO RAVENS!
Anna sang along to the radio like she didn’t have a care in the world.
I spent the entire drive pretending not to look at her.
The last time I was at a party was with Lilly and Lee.
I don’t remember much from that night—just a vague feeling, really—except that Mike drove me home in the early hours of the morning.
It’s as if I almost forgot, but then I instinctively reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, my fingers fumbling to open the text thread with Mike.
Me:Don’t need a babysitter tonight, with a friend.
Me: Fuck you.
Mike: I’ll see you at the party.
I let out a loud, frustrated groan as I shoved the phone back into my pants, feeling the weight of the moment crushing me. Anna gently turned the radio down and shot me a sideways glance, her eyes filled with concern. “What’s wrong?” she asked softly, but I couldn't hold back the surge of emotion.
“Oh, just the lovely surprise of the watchdog coming to babysit,” I said bitterly, my voice tinged with sarcasm and a hint of despair. I rolled my eyes, feeling trapped in this unfair situation.
“Watchdog?” she repeated, tilting her head, her tone curious but unsure.
“My brother has stuck me with the babysitter, because apparently I need someone watching over me,” I muttered, the frustration bubbling up inside me. It felt like a slap — like they thought I couldn’t handle anything on my own.
Anna’s laugh was gentle but honest. “Oh, I’m sure he’s not so bad — unless he hates to drink. Then you’ll be sober the whole night, and honestly, that’s kind of a shame,” she teased, and I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of warmth from her words, a spark that made my face glow.
I smirked, a mix of defiance and hope in my eyes. “Mike wouldn’t mind — he hasn’t had fun in a long time,” I said quietly, but there was a hunger in my voice for a little freedom, a little escape from the mundane.
“Don't worry," Anna said softly, her eyes flickering with a mischievous spark. Then she looked at me again, her voice lowering with a fierce protectiveness. "I'll sneak you a beer if he's a complete uptight asshole.
A laugh I hadn’t felt in so long burst from my lips, pure and wild with joy. When she winked at me, my heart began to pound wildly, as if it was trying to leap out of my chest, overflowing with excitement and something electric that I couldn’t quite put into words.
For a moment, neither of us dared to speak.
The headlights sliced through the darkness, illuminating a row of parked cars as Anna turned onto a gravel road. Music poured out into the night, swelling in our ears long before the house came into view.
Jessica’s place shimmered like a lighthouse at the end of the driveway, a flicker of warmth and anticipation in the cold shadows.
“So,” Anna said softly, killing the engine, “Ready?”
I stared at the house, at the crowd gathered inside, at the flashing lights dancing through the windows—each detail pulling at something inside me. Then I turned to her.
No.
Not even a little.
But for the first time in months, something inside me burned with the desperate, aching desire to be.
“If this turns out to be a disaster, I’m blaming you,” I admitted.
Anna chuckled, “Noted.”
We stepped out of the car, our hearts pounding, and moved toward the chaos, toward whatever awaited inside.
The second we stepped through the front door, the noise hit me like a brick wall.
Music rattled the windows, bodies crowded every available inch of space, and the sharp scent of cheap beer lingered in the air.
Someone yelled from the kitchen. Someone else was already throwing up in a potted plant. Typical high school party.
Anna laughed beside me and suddenly none of it seemed quite so unbearable.
There was a familiar voice shouting across the room, “Holy shit you actually brought the blonde!”
I closed my eyes.
Mike.
Of course Mike found us.
Someone gently tapped him on the shoulder, and instinctively I ducked behind a cluster of people, weaving my way toward the kitchen while grabbing a drink along the way.
As I looked around, my heart surged with a mix of emotion—seeing a few couples lost in tender kisses, some already lost in a haze of too much weed, and a group of football players passionately dragging an old fire pit to the center of the backyard, hurriedly tossing in wood and whatever else they could find to ignite that flickering blaze.
Anna was there, animatedly talking to a group of cheerleaders.
Her laughter rang out and broke through the cacophony around us, and I felt an ache in my chest not to go to her, to drown in that moment.
Clutching a plastic cup filled with some fiery liquor, I slipped outside, my heart pounding as I headed straight to the firepit, craving that fiery glow and the warmth of connection I couldn't quite reach.
Anna gently nudged my hand, her eyes locked fiercely on the blaze before us.
It was as if the flames held her soul, consuming her completely, making everything else fade away into nothingness.
I was mesmerized by the fire flickering within her gaze—wild, intense, and alive—while the world around us drifted into a distant, muted hum.
At that moment, nothing existed but the fire dancing against the dark sky.
“Hey Anna!” someone shouted and she ripped her attention away from the flames.
“What?” she smiled at me before slipping toward the group of people forming a soft patch on the grass coated in blankets. I stared at the flames for a moment longer before turning away.
“Charlie, come over here!” Anna’s voice reached me and I downed my cup tossing it in the already growing pile of trash near a fifty-gallon drum.
Anna sat between two boys, her knees hitting theirs as she crossed her legs underneath her.
I plopped next to the girl I’d learned was called Savannah. There in the middle of the circle was an empty bottle.
“You know how to play right?” the boy on Anna’s right side laughed.
“Bro, she’s not twelve, everyone knows so just spin.” the one on her left smacked him.
The first boy reached into the center of the circle, grabbing the bottle with a confident grip, flicking his wrist with a daring smile.
The bottle spun wildly, faster and faster, until finally coming to a halt at Savannah.
She giggled softly, a playful sparkle in her eyes, then leaned forward with a daring grin and pressed her lips to his in a quick, tender kiss that left us all breathless.
Soon, different pairs took their turns—some sharing laughs, others caught in a shy whirl of nervous excitement, even a rare moment when two guys were locked in a kiss, only to part moments later, cheeks flushed with adrenaline.
“Alright, Anna, your turn,” Savannah said warmly, her eyes encouraging.
I watched, heart pounding, as the bottle slowed, inching its way around until it finally stopped—and I swear my heart paused with it. My entire body tensed, anticipation spilling over every nerve.
“Oh,” Anna whispered, her cheeks blossoming with a deep pink that made my own smile ache with longing. I couldn't look away, caught in the magnetic pull of her gaze.
She hesitantly leaned toward me, nerves dancing in her eyes, yet I stayed steady, forcing myself to remain calm despite the fiery desire raging inside.
Slowly, she closed the gap, her soft lips pressing gently against mine—warm, buttery, almost divine.
I responded instinctively, my hand lifting to cradle her cheek as her tongue brushed hesitantly into my mouth.
Her eyes fluttered shut, a soft gasp escaping her lips, and in that moment, time seemed to freeze.
I bit softly at her lips before pulling back, caught in a daze of electric connection.
“Hell, that was hot,” one of the boys burst out, hooting happily.
Anna smacked him lightly on the chest, her cheeks still flushed, her eyes lingering on mine just a moment longer than necessary before the game carried on.
But in that instant, everything else faded—only her, only the intense, burning thrill of that stolen moment.
Anna quietly slipped away to refill her drink, and it took every ounce of my soul—not just my muscles, not just my will—to resist the overwhelming urge to watch her walk away, to memorize the way she moved, to etch her image into the depths of my mind forever.
The game twisted and contorted itself—no longer a simple game of spinning bottles but transforming into some dark, twisted nightmare of truth and dare—a battleground where secrets and fears bled to the surface.
Savannah’s voice sliced through the tension, sharp and piercing, “Truth or dare, Charlie?” just as Anna sank back into her seat and shoved a cup into my hands. My heart pounded like a war drum. I hesitated, shoulders tense, neck straining as I chose, “Truth.”
With a reckless abandon fueled by a tumult of emotion, Savannah asked with eager hunger, “Is it true you killed a guy?” Her words hung in the air, daring me to deny or reveal—daring me to shatter the fragile veneer of control I clung to.
I didn’t flinch. I should have. My body begged me to quiver, to break apart under the weight of that confession.
Instead, I chugged the fiery poison of my cup, the sting burning through my insides like a relentless inferno, and I raised my finger, a silent protest, a sign of defiance.
When the flames of alcohol finally dulled, I spoke with determination. “Self-defense,” I said, voice cracking under the weight of what I was revealing. “Wait—no. It was defending another. It was a rapist. They’re not ‘guys’—they’re monsters. Heartless, savage predators stalking in the shadows.”