9. Weirdest Night Yet
9
Weirdest Night Yet
Diana
This party is so not worth a Saturday night in my best party dress.
Or, outfit, in this case. Just a red top that I think might be too tight on me paired with some shorts and sneakers. After telling Lucia that I chose to attend, she got so excited and started rummaging through her closet for something I could wear. When we finally decided on this, she said—a direct quote, mind you—“Aphrodite who?” While touching up my lipstick.
When the rest of us walked into the house where the party is held, I understood why Madi didn’t go to a lot of the parties. This is the kind of party where you’d have to be extremely drunk to have fun. Dionysus would disapprove.
Maybe sticking to Madi is a good idea.
I nudge her shoulder. “Do you want to do anything?”
Her amber eyes move around the entrance area, to the living room, and the little entranceway that I’m pretty sure leads to the kitchen—this is a big house—until her eyes land on a tall figure leaning against a wall, nursing a water bottle.
How cliche can college get? I could turn this whole scenario into a college romance novel and make billions off of it—and I don’t even read romance.
“What about table tennis?” Madi takes my hand and guides me outside to the big ping-pong table.
After bumping into multiple tipsy college students, we finally make it out alive. I go to the opposite side of the table, grab the paddle and ball in front of me, and hold it out. “You ready to lose, Mads?”
She narrows her eyes in a challenging manner. “What makes you think you’re gonna win, Diana?”
I make the first serve and she reciprocates by hitting the white ping pong ball with a smack. Maybe this party could be fun, as long as there’s table tennis. We go at it for a while, until I miss the ball and it goes bouncing on the table and practically flies away.
“Point for me,” Madi says with a smile on her face.
“Well played,” I acknowledge because I refuse to act like a sore loser.
Before Madi can respond, Adrian comes up to us. “Woah, Diana. You’re here.” He then turns to Madi with a joking grin, which is odd for the broody guy. “How much money did they pay her?”
She giggles. Okay, something is up with these two. “Nothing, I swear.”
Taking it as my cue, I turn around slowly to retrieve the ball. The more steps I take, the less uneasy I feel about being a third wheel.
I bump into a tall, buff figure. Before I can apologize, said figure holds out his hand—I’ve determined that it's a guy—where the little white ball rests.
Looking up, I find Mason staring down at me. I may not interact with all my neighbors but Mason is the one I see the least of. “Thanks, Mason,” I reply, grabbing the ball from his hand.
“No problem,” he grunts. “Never thought I’d see you here, Diana.”
“Neither did anyone else,” I mutter.
He nods, then swivels his head from left to right before turning back to me. “Did Lucia come with you?”
“Yeah, she’s with Emma and Ronnie while they wait for Enzo.”
“Thanks.” Mason then dashes off. Okay, what is it with all of my roommates getting with our neighbors? First, there’s Ronnie and Enzo—no one was surprised there, to be honest—then Adrian and Madi, and now Mason and Lucia?
I fear I might die alone with thirteen cats at this rate but I digress.
Turning back around, I make my way over to the ping pong table when I step on something round and hard, nearly falling onto the floor. Luckily, I manage to catch myself before I can face-plant on the freshly cut grass.
What did I step on? It wasn’t a Lego—that thing felt much more painful than a Lego ever did. I crouch down, trying my utter best to keep myself covered with my dress while also getting low enough, and picking up the silver ring. Not sanitary. I drop the ball onto the table and head back inside to find the nearest sink.
Because I have such amazing luck (apparently), I find a lack of college students waiting for the bathroom and it only takes me two minutes to enter inside and wash the dirt off of the ring.
Now it’s time to find the owner. When I was younger, I always had a habit of finding lost things and returning them to their owners. Like a Cuban Tinkerbell in the first movie, or Hermes.
I chuckle to myself. With the ring in my hand, I look like I’m about to propose to someone but that couldn’t be further from the truth.
A couple of minutes pass by and I have yet to hear a single person drunkenly scream, “Where’s my ring?”
“Where’s my ring???”
There it is.
But I can’t pinpoint the sound to anyone in particular so I head on over to the kitchen and lean my head against the freezer door. I allow myself to observe the ring resting on the palm of my right hand. In the middle of the silver band rests two hands holding a heart, with a crown on the top.
I recognize this design. I’ve never seen a Claddagh ring in person before until now and let’s just say that the pictures I’ve found scourging the internet don’t do it justice. Luckily, it doesn’t look damaged anywhere so it’s safe to say that my Converse didn’t destroy them.
“Hey, don’t worry about it, Carly. You can tell Mom about it and she’ll understand.” The hairs on my arm stand up as I listen to the soothing voice that I’ve come to know too well. After all, the owner of the voice has been living in the house behind me for the past two months.
“I can’t, Carson,” an unfamiliar voice cries. “You know how mad she’ll be when she finds out.”
“Let’s just get you some water, okay? Sober you up a little and then we’ll talk more about it.”
“Okay.”
I push myself off the refrigerator and fiddle with the ring, pretending that I didn’t just listen to his uber-short conversation. It’s not my business, after all.
“Diana?” Mierda.
Maybe I can pretend that I didn't hear him. No, that won’t work because I’m terrible at acting. I can try.
“I know you heard me.”
I make a mental note to never audition for any future movies before slowly turning around to find his blue eyes on me. Carson’s not alone either—he’s holding up a girl with very similar features as him and lighter hair. A very drunk, girl version of him.
Oh great, there’s two of them.
“Uh, hi,” I laugh nervously. “What are you doing here?”
Before he can respond, the girl next to him widens her equally blue eyes and points to my hand. “Oh my gosh, where did you find it?”
I was so aware of Carson that I forgot about the Claddagh ring I’m holding. Holding it out to her, I respond with, “Found it on the grass.”
“Thank you!!!” The girl lets go of Carson, stumbling slightly towards me so she can wrap me in a hug.
A flimsy, beer-scented hug.
She’s slightly taller than I am but it’s surprisingly not uncomfortable, just unexpected. Eyes wide, I look at Carson, who shrugs.
My eyes turn into little slits with the way I glare at him.
“I don’t know you but I already love you!” She lets go of me to slip the ring back onto her right finger. “I could have sworn someone had stolen it by now. You didn’t want this all to yourself?”
It’s now my turn to shrug. “Though it’s pretty, I’m more of a gold girl.”
She gives me a once-over before shaking her head. “You would look good in silver, too,” she remarks before turning to Carson. “Don’t you think?”
His cheeks turn visibly red and he stutters. “Uh, sure thing.”
Is it just me or does he look as uncomfortable with the predicament as I feel?
Choosing not to subject myself to this any longer, I reach for the fridge, grab a soda can, and hastily exit the kitchen without another word.
I think I’ve had enough of this party. Or any party for the foreseeable future.
When I reach the living room yet again, the first thing I spot is a set of long, black braids that I recognize are Lucia’s. I tap her shoulder and she whips around, a couple of braids hitting my arm. “What’s up, girl?”
Okay, she’s not drunk yet but Lucia’s not a lightweight, either, so it’s hard to guess how many shots she’s taken.
“I’m heading out,” I shout through the painfully loud music.
Lucia puts her drink down. “I’ll go with you.”
Shaking my head, I say, “No, don’t let me stop you from having more fun. I’ll be fine.” Looking over her shoulder, I notice Mason glancing in our direction before he quickly looks away. Yeah, that guy’s got it real fucking bad. “Besides, you’ve got Mason to keep you company.”
My best friend looks over her shoulder to find Mason and I swear her cheeks turn red. And is that giggling I hear?
There’s a time and a place for me to be around those two, and right now isn’t the moment.
“I’ll call you an Uber,” she says. In an instant, I can feel my stomach shriveling up at the mention of a car. Oh fuck no. I’ll risk my chances doing anything but sitting in a car.
“I can just walk home,” I assure her before turning around and squeezing through the crowds without hearing a protest come from Lucia’s mouth. Briskly walk towards the front door like I’m inching closer and closer to the finish line.
Before my hand can reach the doorknob, a body knocks into me and I’m pushed away. “Sorry!” A familiar drunken voice calls out.
At least I’m not on grass again.
I check my top for any creases, and my shoes for any stains, and just as I get the all-clear, I open my mouth to apologize when Carson’s voice stops me.
“You need some fresh air, too?”
I shake my head. “Going home. I’ll see you later.”
I reach for the doorknob a second time before he places his hand over mine. I turn my head to face him with eyes wide, not expecting the motion whatsoever. Or the small zap, which causes me to draw my right hand back in an instant and meet his gaze.
“All by yourself?” His brows furrow in…concern.
Concern? You’ve got to be kidding me.
I shrug. “So?” I make this journey in the dark multiple times—from school to home, work to home, study session to home, to name a few—and I haven’t had many problems, except for a homeless dude on crack, chasing me for food back in August but it’s not out of the ordinary for me. I’m from Miami, Florida.
Need I say more?
“At midnight?”
“What’s with all the questions, Carson? Can’t you save them for our next tutoring session?”
“There won’t be a session if you walk home alone and get attacked by a fucking creep! And I may be an asshole in your eyes but I refuse to let you walk home alone.”
“Creep?” I roll my eyes. “I’m more in danger of getting attacked by you than a homeless dude on crack, given how much I’ve been seeing you today alone.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m letting you walk home alone,” he argues.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I reply, “I can take care of myself, Carson.”
“I do not doubt that, Just Diana .” He runs one hand through his light brown locks hastily. “But there’s no point when I’m already heading in the same direction.”
“Already?” The girl next to him whines. “But it’s just getting fun.”
I think amid this conversation, we forgot that she was still here. We both turn our heads to her and it’s then I notice how close our faces are.
All it would take is for either of us to move even a centimeter closer…
I take a step back, putting some space between us. Maybe the hot air inside this house is getting to me and I really need some fresh air. So I grab the door while he’s distracted with who I assume is his sister and step outside, immediately getting hit by the chill, mid-October breeze.
“Thank fuck,” I mutter to myself. I check my pockets for my phone and realize that I had left it charging in my room. I let out a groan and run a hand through the ends of my hair.
I guess that means…
Carson and that girl (I seriously don’t know her name) walk right out and when his eyes find me waiting by the door, he gestures with his free hand to follow.
“Fine,” I mutter and walk behind them.
One minute, I’m annoyed by Carson’s chivalry, and the next, I’m following him around like a lost nymph.
Boys are so fucking complicated.