Eight
“Oh great, my Prince Charming is here,” I muttered while pressing the palms of my hands against his chest, pushing him away from me.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fi…” I tried to move away from him, almost losing my footing again in the process. I clutched my purse, thinking it would offer some sort of stability. It didn’t.
“I’m taking you home.”
“No, El—”
“You’re drunk. You shouldn’t even be here right now!”
“Look, Abercrombie, you’re not my boyfriend, so stop trying to take care of me.”
“And leave you alone with all of these well-mannered gentlemen? Yeah, no thanks.”
“What do you even care? Don’t you hate me?”
“Contrary to what you believe, Clarke, I’m not an asshole or hat or…whatever.” He rolled his eyes. “We’re leaving. Now.”
The way this conversation paralleled the one I had with Meredith was almost humorous, but there was one key difference—Elliot and I weren’t friends. Period.
He didn’t seem to understand that as he grabbed my hand and dragged me toward the front door. As he tried to guide me outside, I stopped in the doorway, refusing to budge.
“Wait, I have to make sure Meredith is okay!”
Elliot sighed, releasing my hand to rub his forehead. His expression tightened, as if he were deep in thought.
“Just wait outside. I’ll be back.”
“What? No way!”
Before I could stop him, Elliot pulled me outside, seamlessly switching places with me before stepping back into the house. I moved to follow, but that bastard locked the door behind him. Fucker. I tapped my foot impatiently, waiting for him to return as annoyance radiated through me.
When I glanced up at the sky, I couldn’t help but notice how dark it had gotten.
Too bad the moon wasn’t made of RGB lights…
or maybe that was actually a blessing. The muffled thump of music still pulsed from inside the house, but out here, the crickets dominated the soundscape.
It was oddly peaceful compared to the chaos I’d just escaped.
A wave of nausea hit me, and I sank onto the cold concrete, willing it to pass.
When the door finally swung open again, I sprang to my feet, only for my head to start doing dizzying somersaults.
Clenching my fists, I squeezed my eyes shut, trying desperately to look sober.
“Dude, what the fuck was that?”
“It’s taken care of. Meredith is fine. We’re leaving.”
“Do you get off on saving people or something? What do you mean she’s fine?”
“Oh, for the love of…” He knelt down, scooped me into his arms, and tossed me over his shoulder. “I’m taking you home, Clarke. You’ll thank me for this tomorrow.”
I thought about fighting him, but I was so tired, and honestly, it was nice to be off my feet.
“More like I’ll kill you for this tomorrow,” I said, my words coming out muffled as I lay on his shoulder. “Do you have some sort of white knight complex?”
“Whatever you want to believe, Princess.”
He lifted me into his car and placed me gently in the passenger seat.
I flopped down like a rag doll, readjusting my purse strap to avoid sitting on it.
As Elliot walked around the hood and settled into the driver’s seat, the overhead light came on, causing me to squint at the unexpected brightness.
Once my eyes adjusted, I turned to look at him—really look at him—for the first time tonight. His expression was tense, brows slightly knitting together as he rummaged through his pockets for his keys.
My gaze drifted downward, following the sharp contour of his arms. The veins protruded from his skin, causing me to bite my lip in order to stop myself from blurting out something I’d definitely regret.
Shoving away the intrusive thoughts clawing at my mind, I forced my attention to his hands instead.
Silver rings adorned his fingers, glinting in the faint sparkle of light.
Did he always wear those?
I questioned how I had never noticed them before.
His tattoos were always so eye-catching, and because of them, I guess I failed to see all the other aspects of his style.
Now that I was really paying attention, I caught all the little details—the silver rings, the black nail polish, the smudged eyeliner on his waterline.
My gaze continued lower until it settled on his red checkered pajama pants.
“Are…were you sleeping?”
“Uh.” He glanced at his lap. “Yeah. I was.”
Without another word, he fixed his gaze straight ahead and started the car. As we cruised along the winding road, I concentrated intently, searching for the perfect words to express the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in my mind…though thinking straight was nearly impossible in my drunken haze.
“It’s late. Why are you helping me? You hate me,” I muttered.
“If you get in trouble, I get punished, too. I need to graduate, remember?”
“I hate being your tutor.”
“And you think it’s all sunshine and rainbows for me?” Elliot shook his head while letting out a sigh of frustration. “I didn’t think our arrangement with Mrs. Hawthorne meant having to babysit a spoiled brat.”
“I can take care of muhsel—mysefff.” I cleared my throat. “Myself.”
“You call getting wasted at a party with a bunch of jocks, ‘ taking care of yourself ?’”
Shit . I was so worried about Meredith being reckless that I didn’t even realize I was making the same poor decisions as her. Ugh . I hated that Elliot was actually right for once.
“Look, thanks for coming to get me, but you don’t need to watch over me like a child. It won’t happen again.”
“Sure, it won’t.”
Elliot forcefully shoved his hand into the center console and used it to sift through its contents.
When he pulled his arm out, he was holding a pack of cigarettes.
He flipped open the pack with his thumb and grabbed a single cigarette, placing the stem between his lips.
He ignited the tip with a lighter and sucked in a breath.
Smoke pooled in the car, my lungs burning as I forced a cough.
I waved my hands in front of my face in a futile attempt to clear the air of toxic fumes while I side-eyed him.
He offered a casual shrug in response, rolling both of the front windows down.
The wind caressed my hair back as we drove down the deserted back roads of Summerville.
Desperate to feel the crisp air on my fingertips, I thrust my hand outside, letting it linger there.
“Do you get off on being a dick?”
“Me?” he asked incredulously. “What about your so-called friends? Where were they tonight?”
“Oh, fuck off.”
“You’re supposed to be smart, right? You still trust those fake-ass people?”
Elliot’s words echoed in my head over and over again. How many people do you think actually care about you?
“They’re my friends, Elliot.”
“Some friends…” he mumbled.
My neck grew tense as every muscle in my body stiffened. Something inside me snapped, my anger fueled by the alcohol I had just consumed.
“They’re only my friends because I need them to be, okay?” I exclaimed with fire in my eyes. “Does that make it better for you, Abercrombie?”
“ Need them to be ?” he repeated. “What does that even mean?”
The streetlights bathed the car in light as we crept along the tranquil, empty streets.
I stared at him, biting my lower lip hard enough to draw blood amidst my drunken stupor. Still, I tugged at the tender skin with my teeth, the metallic taste dancing on my tongue.
“Are your friends so entitled they only like to hang out at whoever’s house is the biggest? Are your friends so fake they will kiss up to people they don’t even like? Are your friends so shallow they avoid everyone below their social standing like the plague?”
“Umm—”
“I’m not done! Are your friends so toxic that they will tear apart anyone who tries to get in their way?” I let out an exasperated sigh. “Okay, I’m done now…”
“So, you clearly hate them…why do you hang out with them?”
My voice came out just above a whisper. “Prom Queen. I have to win.”
Elliot groaned. “Dude. What is up with you and winning this stupid popularity contest?”
“It’s just important to me, okay?” I said while flinging my arms in the air and letting out a sigh of frustration. “Trust me, if I could be myself and just hang out with losers like you and still win Prom Queen, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
“Okay, ouch.”
My eyes widened in horror at the words that had just escaped my lips. Booze really did make the brain-to-mouth filter go away. I genuinely meant that in the kindest way possible, but it just didn’t sound that way…
“Ugh. I’m sorry. I swear I meant that as a compliment.”
“No, no.” He smirked at me. “Loser is way better than asshat, so I’ll take it as an upgrade. But seriously, though, have you ever considered making new friends?”
“What?” I threw my head back while rolling my eyes. “Do you really think the people you say ‘hate me’ will just accept me with open arms?”
“Just be yourself and give them a chance to know the real you.”
And give the jocks and cheerleaders ammunition to hate me? Yeah, right. There had to be a way that I could accomplish both. I still needed the outcasts to like me…but how? How could I get into their good graces without dissing my current friends?
“Wait!” I yelled, pushing myself upright in my seat.
Elliot slammed on the brakes, causing the car to jerk violently. His head ricocheted against the headrest as he clenched the cigarette he was smoking between his teeth.
“What?” he screamed as if a spider had dropped right onto his lap.
“Shit! Sorry, I didn’t mean the car.”
He rubbed the back of his neck while wincing. “Jesus, Clarke.”
“Sorry. I just had an idea.”
“Well, spit it out already.”
“What if your friends were forced to get to know me?”
“Are you going to lock them in a room with you or something?” He eased off the brake and began driving down the road again.
“No. I’m not fucking insane, Elliot.” He raised an eyebrow as if he wanted to challenge my words. I flared my nostrils. “Just…what if I was dating someone close to them? That way, we would all have to interact. Someone like maybe…you.”
“Are…” He stared at me blankly. “Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?”
“ Fake boyfriend.”
Elliot pulled his car in front of my house and put it in park, pulling the keys out of the ignition. He flicked the cigarette butt out the window as he looked at me. My nerves were raging as I waited for a response.
Was the idea of dating me so scary that it left him speechless?
“I’m flattered at the offer, Princess, but you’re pretty shit-faced right now. Also, you’re not really my type.”
“Dude, I’m not even that drunk.” I pouted while crossing my arms defensively. “If you don’t want to fake-date me, then just say it.”
“Okay fine. Clarke, I don’t want to fake date you.”
“Ugh.” I rolled my eyes and practically body-checked the door to open it. “Whatever. I was just joking anyway.”
I got out of the car and shut the door forcefully. As I walked across the lawn towards my house, I heard Elliot rev his engine and roll down the car window.
“You’re welcome, by the way.”
“Already said thank you earlier.” I waved, dismissing his comment. “Not saying it again.”
When I stepped onto the porch, I clumsily opened my purse and blindly fumbled around for my keys. I jammed them into the front door and twisted the knob.
Hearing the sound of Elliot’s car still running behind me, I turned slowly to look at him as he sat gawking at me from his car. I extended my arms outward as if asking, “Why the fuck are you still here?”
“Just making sure you’re not too drunk to get inside your own house!” he shouted from across the yard.
Even though he couldn’t see it through the darkness, I narrowed my eyes at him. One gesture I could be sure he saw, though, was my hand shooting up to the sky as I flipped him off.
Without saying goodbye, I tiptoed into my house and kicked off my shoes.
It wasn’t all that necessary, seeing as how I made the conscientious call of wearing my Nike Air Force 1 sneakers as opposed to the platform heels most girls wear, but it was just the safe play to make sure I was as quiet as possible.
I slowly crept up the stairs, holding my shoes while trying not to wake my parents.
The whole thing felt akin to doing the walk of shame.
I collapsed onto my bed without even bothering to change out of my clothes. The room was spinning.
Damn, if I had stayed at that party for one minute longer, who knows what the hell would’ve happened. Despite what I had told Elliot, I was super drunk.
God, if I’m drunk, I hope Meredith is okay .
She was way more fucked up than I was. I hope she got home okay.
I guess I had Elliot to thank for getting me home safely.
The guilt began to set in after the way I left things with him.
As much as I hated to admit it, the fact that Elliot drove all the way out to a party that he wasn’t invited to just to come get me was very Prince Charming-esque in a non-cringe way.
I clicked the lock button on my phone, causing the screen to blind me as it illuminated the room.
I typed out a quick text before hitting the send button.
The last thing I remembered was setting an alarm to make sure I woke up at the butt crack of dawn in order not to arouse suspicion from my parents.
I told them I’d be back from Meredith’s by 9 a.m. Plus, I still had to pick up my damn car.
I couldn’t have them think I was hungover, or else bye-bye to every other party I wanted to go to this year.