Chapter 5. Reed #2
“Ha! I knew it! I’m good at reading people.”
“No … you’re not.” My hands slide back in my pockets. Of course Tessa doesn’t want anything to do with me. We’re too stuck in our ways. Did I really think one party would erase years of sniping at each other?
Well, screw it.
Watching Brandon and Kira all hot and heavy cooked my brain—that’s all this is. I plead temporary insanity.
Some older guys from town walk past, eying me darkly. The last one purposely knocks into my shoulder as he passes. “You better watch yourself tonight,” he threatens, and his friends snicker.
Wait—I know them. They used to work at the factory. The one my stepdad shuttered. They’d protest in front of our home and send death threats to my mom after we got doxxed. I cross the room quickly.
Tessa chases me down. “What was that about?”
“Some guys my stepdad knows,” I say vaguely. We’re veering dangerously close to territory I want to steer clear of with her. “How about we drown our troubles instead?” I need something to take the edge off.
“Um …” She glances over at Brandon.
“Just … hang on.” I make a small detour to the back study where I stashed my guitar earlier.
Thankfully, it’s still tucked in its case in the corner, safe for now.
I cruise into the kitchen wondering what Tessa likes to drink.
Beer? Cocktails? I should have asked. How do I even mix a drink?
I’m in over my head. I grab a couple Solo cups of things people are already whipping up. Hopefully, she likes whatever this is.
Tessa’s still frowning at Brandon when I return, like he’s the black hole of breakups and she can’t pull away. I thrust a drink into her hands.
“Where did you get those?” She peers into the cup skeptically.
“It’s a party. There’s alcohol everywhere.”
“What is it, though?”
“Jesus, Tessa, it’s a drink of some kind. I don’t know. People were mixing them in the kitchen.”
“Fine.” She takes four giant gulps, almost gagging. “That is vile.”
Shit. Maybe I should have tasted them first. “Here, we can trade. I grabbed two different kinds.” I switch our drinks, tip my head back, and down the rest of hers. “You’re right. That’s awful. I can make us something better.” I hope, anyway. I take our cups and wander back to the kitchen.
Luckily this time there are cans of beer on the counter, which I grab.
When I return, Tilly’s hovering over Brandon and Kira.
“It’s curfew. I’ve got to go. It’s already taken me forever to find my bag.
I keep misplacing it.” She waves her hand toward the foyer, referencing the earlier debacle, before pulling her water bottle out to take a sip. “Are you coming, Brandon?”
“Can we give Kira a ride home, too?” Brandon asks as he and Kira stand, straightening their clothes.
When I hand Tessa her beer, the rest of them stare open-mouthed between us—the tension palpable.
You’re drinking with Walker? Tilly’s eyes seem to ask Tessa as she nods in my direction.
Something hardens in Tessa’s expression as she watches Brandon tuck in his shirt. “You can go. I’ll stay with Reed.”
My eyebrows hit the roof.
“Excuse us.” Tilly grabs Tessa’s arm; I still catch her harsh whisper as she tugs her away. “I thought you wouldn’t be caught dead with Reed?”
“Brandon got to have his fun,” Tessa mumbles, before their voices are absorbed into the party noise.
I crane my neck, dying to know what they’re saying about me, but it’s a lost cause.
All I know is they hug goodbye, then Tilly calls over her shoulder, “Tessa, make your sister pick you up later. Reed can’t drive, he’s been drinking.
” She waves her keys and nods for Brandon and Kira to follow.
Brandon throws Tessa a small apologetic smile as he passes, but her expression is unreadable.
I saunter over and clink my can against hers, acknowledging the strange twist of fate. We study each other for a beat, trying to wrap our heads around this odd night.
“Salud.” I raise my drink.
“Salud? Seriously? Could you sound more pretentious?”
“Tessa, you do know my family’s from Spain, right?”
“What? They are? I had no idea.” She looks down awkwardly, then takes another sip of her beer.
I guess she’s been paying less attention to me than I’ve been paying to her. “Salud is like saying cheers.”
“I know what it means,” she says quickly. “I just thought you were trying to be …”
“What?”
“I don’t know. Suave or something.”
I throw my head back, laughing. “I’m sorry, have you met me?”
She looks unsure, like she’s really seeing me for the first time. “Well … salud, then.”
We both tip our cans back. Maybe this night’s salvageable after all.
As I scramble to think of something to say, Yannick Krause, the German exchange student, barges into the room banging a spoon against an empty glass bottle.
“Zer iz a beer pong tournament in ze dining room und vee are undefeated.” He grabs Jenny Chu’s hand and raises it in the air. I forgot they were dating. “Does anyvone dare to challenge our vinning streak?”
Yes. This is what the night needs. A little fun. I smile and nod, a wicked glint in my eye.
No, she mouths at me, shaking her head.
“Oh … yes …” I continue to nod, my smile blooming.
I’m ready to dare her again when Tessa startles me by grabbing my hand and lifting it in the air. “We do! Prepare to be destroyed!”
I almost spit out my drink. All these years I thought Tessa was a prissy do-gooder, wound up tighter than those braided buns she likes to wear.
But here she is tugging me through the crowd, determined to kick Yannick’s butt in a drinking game.
And I can’t help feeling a little thrill that she’s more than she appears.
I follow her into a dining room covered in intricately patterned peeling wallpaper, with a sparkling crystal chandelier draped in cobwebs overhead.
A large ornate table, once the centerpiece for entertaining the glitterati of the day, currently houses a handful of Ping-Pong balls and red plastic cups at each end, all half-full of beer. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
Jenny glares at us as she reviews the rules. “We’re playing ten cup. Each player shoots once per round. If you sink it, they drink it. Elbows behind the table for your shot. And … you get one rerack per game. Got it?”
“Not even close. Can you go over that again?” Tessa asks, a little crack in her confidence.
“Who knows. Who cares.” I shrug. “Do we go first?”
“Vee do. Vee are ze reigning champions.” Yannick almost seems insulted we asked.
Flipping his long golden hair away from his face, Yannick eyes his mark with the precision of a military sniper.
With a snap of the wrist, his ball lands with a splash in the cup nearest me.
Jenny follows with a direct hit to our front cup.
They fist-bump, already gloating over their undefeated title.
I remove the balls and hand us each a drink. “Salud again, partner.”
We down them. I’m already feeling a little unsteady on my feet. But I need to focus because we’re up. I make a big show of picking out the best Ping-Pong ball and shaking it around in my palms like I’m throwing dice in Vegas. I blow into my hands, then hold them up to Tessa’s lips. “For luck?”
She rolls her eyes.
“No? Okay. But if I miss, that’s on you.” I wind up like a pitcher on a mound, but accidentally aim too high when I shoot and the ball ricochets off the chandelier before smacking Yannick square in the face. Tessa snort-laughs as Jenny’s eyes narrow.
“Krause, sorry, man. I didn’t mean to hit you, I swear. I just have shitty aim.”
Yannick shrugs off my apology. “Zen you vill go down.”
“No one’s taking me down.” Tessa shakes her Ping-Pong ball around like dice, too, to mock me, even locking eyes with me as she gives it a good-luck kiss. “Allow me to school you on how it’s done.”
My lips twitch in an almost grin as I gesture for her to step forward and do her thing.
Tessa concentrates, lines up her angle, and shoots. With a quick bounce, her ball leapfrogs over the cups on the other side and rolls across the floor.
“Well, look at that.” Jenny’s tone drips sarcasm. “I guess you two aren’t perfect at everything.”
“Excuse me?” Tessa’s head snaps up.
“Oh, don’t act all innocent, Sinclair. I’m sure you’ve heard by now. I’m surprised you’re not home crying in your pillow. We all know your family can’t afford to buy their way out of a paper bag.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tessa rounds on her.
“Jenny, I wouldn’t piss off Tessa. She throws a mean punch.” I nod in her direction, but Tessa looks confused—like she’s unsure if I’m coming to her defense or ganging up on her, too.
“The punch is what I’m talking about.” Jenny sneers. “It looks like you can kiss your scholarship goodbye.”
“What?”
“Principal Evans sent me an email tonight.” She pulls out her phone as proof. “Ms. Fieldman called him from the hospital to say the scholarship is mine now. I guess slugging her didn’t win you high points for moral fiber.”
Tessa’s body goes rigid. “No. You’re lying.”
“Do you want to read the email?” Jenny flips her phone around: Exhibit A. “But don’t worry, we can still see each other when I’m home from Stanford on break and you’re cleaning my house. Isn’t that what your mom did? Or was it sewing?”
Something flashes behind Tessa’s eyes, and she begins marching around the table, cheeks flushed, hands fisted. “No one gets to say I’m not good enough. That my family’s not good enough.”
“Whoa, hold up, firecracker.” My arm rockets out, holding her in place before she does something she’ll regret. Again.
Tessa’s breath comes hot and fast. “I already planned on writing Ms. Fieldman a letter of apology tomorrow, begging her forgiveness. So, I wouldn’t get too comfortable, Jenny.”
“That’s a very bad idea.” Jenny stalks closer. “That money’s mine now, and I don’t like it when someone takes what’s mine.”
“Are you threatening me?” Tessa scoffs. “You’re unreal. You don’t even need it.”
Jenny shrugs, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she walks back to her end of the table.
“Is this because of eighth grade? We were friends, Jenny. I confided in you. Trusted you. You’re the one who gave me the ultimatum and said I had to pick between you and Tilly.”
A sharp, shocked laugh escapes Jenny’s lips.
“Tessa, do you really think I care about some fight we got into five years ago? That it’s been eating away at me all this time because of feelings?
” She grabs a Ping-Pong ball. “No. This is about winning. You had your chance, and now it’s my turn.
So don’t even think about interfering. Because …
” With a quick flick, she sinks her ball into another of our back-row cups. “I win.”
Yannick, fully in the zone, scores another shot beside her. How are they doing that?
“Get ’em, killer.” Jenny plants a long and lingering kiss on him in congratulations as Tessa and I watch awkwardly. It’s only then that I realize my arm is still snaked tightly around her waist from where I tried to slow her down before.
Tessa seems to realize, too, her eyes snagging on mine, an eyebrow lifted. I pull my arm back to my side.
We return to the game, but it’s hard to concentrate. The alcohol is going to my head and Tessa’s so pissed she can’t focus. Although I’d love to take Jenny and Yannick down, it’s a lost cause. We’re annihilated at beer pong. The events of the party become increasingly fuzzy after that.
There’s Tessa and me dancing downstairs. One of her buns has unfurled as she waves a glow stick in my face, laughing. The lights strobe on and off, highlighting the freckles on her nose.
Then flash: We’re in a back room, as a fight breaks out outside. People press themselves against the windows, jockeying for a look. There’re screams and gasps when someone’s body slams against the side of the house.
Then somehow, we’re upstairs hiding in a closet from those guys who hassled me earlier.
My heart is beating so fast it feels like it’s going to break out of my chest, Aliens style, as I strain to hear if they’ve chased us.
I feel the heat of Tessa’s skin beside me.
Was she throwing up before as I held her hair back, or did I only imagine that part?
It’s hard to keep up.
My thoughts skip like stones cast over a pond.
What …
… is happening …
… to me?
We stumble out of the closet dizzy and doubled over with cramps. I hug my stomach, bracing against the deep ache inside, the sour taste at the back of my throat.
I’ve been drunk before, but this … this is next level. If only I could find some water. I’m so thirsty. I need to sober up.
Surprisingly, Tessa remains at my side. I want to tell her thanks for sticking it out with me, but it’s … the vertigo … hard to get a breath.
I’m …
… losing focus.
I drag myself into the second-floor bathroom and begin vomiting in the toilet. How could I let this happen? Why did I drink so much?
It pours out of me until I dry heave, body shaking.
I’ve broken out in a sweat. My shirt is drenched with it.
Shit.
Where’s Tessa?
The cool tile feels so good against my cheek. My eyelids flutter.
I can’t keep them open.
Find … Tessa.
I try to claw my way to the surface, to check on her, but a fog, thick and dark, settles over me like a warm blanket, knocking me out.
And dragging me under.