Track 4 Getaway #2
Enzo’s house was once again a party by nightfall, and I was good and buzzed shortly into it.
I kept my distance from E, and I knew he could tell.
It was in his questioning gaze that he kept finding mine throughout the night.
I tried to look away, but once I noticed the yearning in those light brown eyes, my heart broke, and I hated my behavior.
I wanted to change it. I wanted to fix it.
I wanted to stop. But I was in too deep. And I was still lost in all my hurt.
Eventually, E started to entertain the girls who approached him.
The drunker I got, the harder I’d scowl before I’d look away and find Enzo.
When I looked back, E’s eyes would be elsewhere, and it would piss me off even more.
I told myself it was all harmless flirting and there was nothing more to his actions.
I told myself it didn’t matter. To get over it, because I had no right not to.
Then Maddy walked in.
Maddy was a year older than we were and hot as she could be. Basically, a brunette Britney Spears, with shining blue eyes to match and the perfect skin tone. She could wear gold and silver at the same time, and it wouldn’t clash. Everyone had eyes for Maddy, and she was untouchable.
But guess who was touching her within minutes of her arrival?
When Maddy got to E, his arms slipped around her waist, low and familiar, and she giggled at whatever clever line he threw at her like she was actually interested. She spoke so closely to him, her lips brushing his ear, and I hated the sight of it.
Out of spite and to ease my pain, I turned to Enzo and made him kiss me, which he drunkenly enjoyed. But when I turned back to find E’s eyes on me, I only felt worse.
That’s when I started taking shots.
A very drunken hour later, Eminem’s “Superman” came on. E and Maddy started slowly dancing in the middle of the living room with the others. I threw myself at Enzo again, and he happily obliged, his hands running up and down my body on the makeshift dance floor.
It was supposed to distract me, supposed to make me forget that E was even in the room, but it didn’t work. My eyes kept finding his, and his were on hers. I wasn’t sure if it was their seductive rhythmic motions or the liquor in my belly, but suddenly, I felt sick. Really sick.
I ran off the dance floor and into the bathroom, where I threw up everything I had ever consumed in my life.
After nearly twenty minutes, I felt better. Sober even. Well, more sober. But it was enough.
I rinsed my mouth with mouthwash, dabbed my face dry with a towel, and opened the bathroom door. My heart froze when I saw E standing there, waiting. His entire being was relaxed and calm, but a force nonetheless.
“You alright?” he asked with a serious concern, but sobered up or not, I was still pissed as hell, so I decided to be a snotty bitch.
“Fine. Why do you ask?”
He shrugged, his eyes telling me he knew exactly why, but he would play my game anyway. “No reason, I guess.”
“Good. Can you move?” He took a small step backward, angling his body, leaving just enough room for me to pass. When I did, he grabbed me by the elbow and spun me back to him.
“What are you doing, Syd?” His voice was sultry and deep, and it sent a shiver down my spine, which I tried hard to ignore. My eyes bounced from his eyes, to his full mouth, and back up again.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing,” he repeated.
“Are your questions always statements?” I snapped mockingly.
He snorted and stared down at me, taking a deep breath through his nostrils as he let me pull my arm from his grip. There were still only inches between us.
“Why are you worried about me, anyway? Aren’t you busy with Maddy, or maybe Cashman?”
“What?” His head jerked back, and his brows knotted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know exactly what it’s supposed to mean.”
His shoulders rose with his drunken aggravation. “Obviously, I don’t, and you clearly don’t want to explain it to me. But hey, maybe your boyfriend can help.”
My brain kicked into overdrive, rushing to compute what he was saying, shocked by the accusation. I didn’t want to show it. I tried to control my face, but my drunken eyes betrayed me. E took it as a confirmation.
“Yeah,” he seethed, as if he’d caught me red-handed.
He closed the distance between us, towering over me with his big, muscular body.
“Why don’t you go run back to your boyfriend, Sydney?
” The narrow hallway we were trapped in suddenly felt too small for us with all our blame and unspoken wants.
His eyes stayed steady on mine and I forced mine to do the same, willing them not to fall to his lips again, though they begged to.
I could feel the heat off his skin. My heart raced in my chest, in my ears with a mix of emotions—desire, fury, want.
The walls of the hall felt like a vice, forcing two parts together until they were sealed as one.
“Yeah, maybe I will,” I said, trying my hardest to match the angered aggravation in his eyes, but all I had was hurt, and a deep yearning I was working to disguise. The way his eyes flickered said he was just as conflicted as I was, but I was too drunk for it to matter.
I stormed off, fuming, too angry and confused to correct him. I was too aggravated and too hurt to say anything without crying. And instead of dealing with it, instead of going home and giving myself the space I clearly needed, I stayed. I chose to stay and drink more alcohol.
When E entered the room, I was under Enzo’s arm.
His eyes, cold, angry, and sexy as hell, were fixed on me.
They stayed for far too long, and the fire that burned in them settled low in my belly.
My whole body wanted to be near him, but I was too stubborn in my feelings to grant it the pleasure.
And so was he. When Maddy whispered something in his ear, he looked away for only a second before he found me again.
And then he left with her.
And my heart sank a little more.
I danced and danced and danced some more, trying my damnedest to erase the image of E and Maddy and Sarah fucking Cashman out of my head.
Enzo misread it all.
“Come on, baby. Let’s go upstairs,” Enzo whispered into my ear, and in my drunken stupor, it sounded good. It felt good—to be wanted. To be prioritized. I needed a getaway, and he was offering one.
Maybe if I had had a loving childhood, I wouldn’t have had an aching void to be filled.
Maybe I would’ve made better choices with better people.
But that’s not how life works, is it? Life deals you a hand before you even realize you’re in the game—everything after that is just trying to learn the rules while you’re forced to play.
You’re bound to make a mistake or ten along the way. I was no exception.
I went upstairs with Enzo and had sex for the very first time. Drunk, careless, and stupid, I gave a piece of myself to a boy I didn’t even love. A boy who never really saw me. Because the boy who did—the one I did love? He left with someone else.
And I hated myself for it the second it was over.