Chapter 33
Stella
Heartbreak Tuesday’s Christmas party is being hosted by Laur.
They’re the only one with a house apparently, and the last time Jill hosted at her apartment the cops were called.
Laur agreed to host on the condition that a few people stay to clean up, no hard drugs, and anyone who does something to get the cops called owes them a hundred bucks.
I was surprised they didn’t make people sign a contract upon entry, but it’s not unreasonable. As such, most people are on their best behaviour.
Well, at least no felonious behaviour.
I enter alone. After my conversation with Nessa, I didn’t want to risk overstepping, so I haven’t spoken to her or James since then, aside from a goodnight text from James.
It’s more than I deserve after coming between them.
At this point, I’m going to follow James’ lead about whether we continue or not.
Feelings have already been hurt, but it’s not like it can realistically get worse, right?
Unless their mom decides to cash in on her threat.
A shiver rolls through me as I remember her words, how she knew where I lived, knew how to trap me…
Maybe it’s worth it to detach from the situation?
Step away, let the siblings fix things? I don’t truly believe that James would ever let his parents follow through on their threats towards me, but they’re still there, hanging over my head, the guillotine waiting to fall.
I need to get out of my head.
Needing to quell the rambling thoughts rattling around in my head, I grab a drink the moment I enter.
The party is already in full swing. I make my way through people I’ve never seen before, trying my best to navigate to any familiar face.
I end up finding Laur in the kitchen, chatting with them for a bit as they tell me some story about a weird cousin they had to dig out of a snowbank at their family Christmas because he thought he could be buried in snow in a swimsuit for ten minutes.
Five minutes in he was worried about losing a nut and begged to be released.
Laur is easy to get along with even if I’m a little uncomfortable being here. I only know a few people here, not to mention I haven’t seen Hazel, Beck, or James anywhere so far.
Maybe this was a bad idea. The thought barely crosses my mind when James walks into the kitchen.
“Hey, Laur,” he says, wrapping them in a quick, one-armed hug that they reciprocate.
A shyness I’m not familiar with settles over me.
How is that possible? He’s literally seen me naked more times than I can count.
Nevertheless, I fidget with my short black dress.
The fluttering skirt only hits mid-thigh, leaving me prone to some potential, accidental flashing, and the bust makes my meager breasts slightly more enticing.
It may be wrong, but my outfit choice was heavily based on getting James’ attention tonight.
It’s been two days, and I’m already going through withdrawal without him.
Tremors are not so easily silenced in my body as I try to read his expression.
I haven’t heard from him, and I don’t know where we stand now.
Does he still want me? Did I ruin things between him and his sister?
If anyone got between me and a family member, I would have a hard time keeping them around, much less this closely.
“Sunshine,” he says, his lips quirking. My anxiety settles a bit as I walk closer to him and he opens his arms. I step into them, relieved. This might not be as painful as I thought. Is it possible everything is just… fine?
“Hey, stud, how’s it going?”
“Better now.” Holy cow. This is the closest he’s gotten to flirting in front of other people. I don’t know what to make of it.
“Well, this is gross. See ya,” Laur says as they promptly leave. Too bad, they’re pretty fun to hang out with.
“I missed you,” I whisper, my voice almost not carrying over the pounding bass in the other room.
“I didn’t even have to tease it out of you this time,” he says, a slight grin cracking the side of his face. He leans in to kiss me. It only takes a moment for our kiss to ignite, for James to sweep me into his hold and plunge his tongue into my mouth.
“Oh,” a hard voice rings through next to us. We leap away from each other as Nessa walks into the room. She stares at us, her eyes flickering between the two of us before she stomps to the fridge. Grabbing a beer, she mock salutes us and storms out.
“I didn’t know if she was going to be here,” I say, my vision watering.
“I’m sorry, didn’t think she’d come after… all this came out.” His voice is hoarse.
“It’s okay if you want to go talk to her,” I offer, praying he won’t take me up on it.
“You sure?” He sounds so hopeful it hurts. I know how much his little sister means to him.
“Yeah. Hazel and Beck are supposed to be here soon, and I think a few other people? I’ll find them later.
” I give him the brightest smile I can muster before heading back to the living room where pop Christmas music spills out of a crackling speaker.
By the time I settle in, I’ve gulped half my drink already, barely even tasting it.
It takes gargantuan effort to allow myself to get swept up in the bubbling conversations around me, to let go of at least some of my anxieties.
Conversation flows as quickly as my drinks do.
Jill talks about bringing her new boyfriend to meet her family and how her stepdad lost his mind.
Laur talks about renovations on the house, all of us trailing behind them as they point things out that need altering or fixing.
One of their friends shows up and passes around their phone with pictures of the cutest puppy that they adopted last week.
Nick comes in every so often with a dirty joke.
It’s easy to get along with them, I can almost forget why I was so stressed out. Alcohol is so good for that.
Hazel and Beck show up at some point with Beth and Maria in tow, and I can finally relax. It’s obvious that Hazel knows what’s been going on. The small, pitying looks she gives me, the way she hugs me a little too long. It’s nice to not have to keep it a secret anymore though.
Maria heads right over to Nessa when she arrives, shooting me a glance of acknowledgement before disappearing behind the redhead with a stern expression.
Beth snuggles up right next to me. It should probably be weird that I’m hanging out with James’ ex, but to my surprise, we get along famously.
How strong have I been making my drinks? I wonder to myself.
It’s easy to get along with her, though. Her friendly manner and welcoming smile are the perfect lure, promising friendship, giggles, and it’s all the perfect entrapment for her to launch into a variety of dick stories that I was in no way prepared for when I arrived.
One more drink, coming up.
“I’ve found this new guy on Tinder. He’s a waiter at some fancy new place downtown.
I went for dinner there a little while ago and matched him while I was in the bathroom.
I’ve never seen someone reply so quickly!
I was on a date, but I’ll tell you what, I did not go home with them!
Marco and I had an amazing time together, and I swear, he has the biggest—”
“I get the picture,” I cut her off, swaying a little in my seat.
I may not be a prude, but I don’t want to hear about some random guy’s dick, and the alcohol is starting to get to me.
I excuse myself to grab some water, and it’s only when I’ve downed my second glass that I realize Jill followed me in here.
“Waiters not your type, Stella? I guess if you had a type it would have to be drummers…” Jill teases, leaning against the counter next to me. My face must be on fire. Apparently, James and I are the worst kept secret here.
“Not at all,” I giggle, drunkenly trying to deflect without admitting to anything.
“No? Cause you seem to have ours wrapped around your little finger.” Her expression is knowing and smug.
“I mean, you know him. He’s… different. Besides, I don’t think you can call it a type if I’ve only known two drummers.
Obviously, one of them is James. The other was this guy from high school, Callum.
I don’t know if he still plays, but he was like, pretty good!
” I shout, definitely louder than I should be, my awkwardness taking control of my volume.
“He was cute too, but I don’t know, just not my type I guess?
Maybe my type is broody assholes,” I choke out a laugh, trying to pass it off as a joke.
“Pretty good? Does he have social media?” asks Jill. My brain struggles along until I realize what she’s asking of me. It tries to ring an alarm bell at her tone, but the alcohol is muting it, so I push that thought to the side. I’m really out of sorts today.
“Yeah!” I say, bringing up my Instagram account.
I pull up Callum’s page and show her a bit.
“See? He’s still super cute and super good!
I guess it’s not the drummer part that’s my type,” I laugh.
He really is killing it in this video. I never paid that much attention in high school, I was always so preoccupied with my dad.
It’s probably my only regret about high school.
“Nice skills,” she chuckles. “And thanks for showing up. He’s been more talkative with you around, more relaxed. It’s a nice change of pace.” She exits before I can reply, leaving me stunned. I blame it on the drinks.
I make my way back to the party, trying to keep it together and rehydrate. Throughout it all, I keep an eye out for Nessa. I want to talk to her, clear the air, even if now isn’t the time. Nessa has never been one to wait for the right time, why should I?
It’s late into the night, drinks are flowing, and I’ve found myself in a new group of people whose names I can’t remember. I’ve had more drinks than I usually do and I’m pretty buzzed, so I half-think I’m hallucinating when I see James and Nessa talking in the corner.
The conversation doesn’t look angry. No one’s throwing anything or shouting.
It doesn’t look pleasant either. They’re both tense, and Nessa cuts off when she sees me looking.
James follows her gaze, looking at me in apology before turning back to her.
She storms off into the kitchen, leaving James alone.
He lets himself into one of the spare bedrooms I saw when I got the tour earlier and I decide it’s best to give him his space.
I’m people watching at this point, almost ready to go home.
I think about calling an uber when I see Nessa dragging Nick into another spare room, tangled up in each other and clearly about to knock boots.
I push my sliver of concern to the side.
Knowing Nessa and how many one-night stands she’s had, I try to ignore it.
I know she’s shown some more destructive behaviour lately, with her drinking, picking fights, her meltdowns, but nothing bad enough to intervene at any point.
If she wants to drown her sorrows in some dick, who am I to judge?
I duck into the room I saw James go into not five minutes ago. “You hiding back here?” I call out softly
“Who said I’m hiding?” A low voice ripples through the dark.
“You’re sitting alone in silence in a dark room with a party five feet away. I took a wild guess.” I sit next to him on the bed.
“Right.” We soak in the silence for a bit, the sides of our arms brushing, but otherwise not touching each other.
“I’m so sorry,” I say after a while. Even though I’ve said it before, more times than I can count, I don’t know what else to say at this point.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for, sunshine,” he says, turning to me and cupping my chin. “I promise.”
It’s late. I’m dying. Is it possible to get a hangover if you haven’t gone to sleep yet?
Thankfully enough of us are here that Beck has the café closed tomorrow, so I can sleep in as long as I need.
My head is starting to pound as I grab my coat, my uber approaching from around the block, according to the app.
Jill walks up to me as I’m zipping up, a drunken haze coating her eyes as well. Her loose smile widens when she sees me and winds her long, spindly arms around me.
“Thank you for coming, it’s so nice to have you around,” she slurs, draped over my shoulder.
“Thanks,” I laugh, “it was nice to officially meet you all.” She murmurs something I can’t hear, and I nod along in fake understanding. Satisfied, she smacks my ass and sends me outside.
I stand on the curb in the cold, trying to piece together every weird interaction I’ve had tonight as Tracy drives up in her Subaru Forester. The moment I start climbing my drunk ass in, I sense someone behind me.
“Got room for one more?” James says slyly.
“I thought we said no sleepovers?” He’s not one to break the rules, but I’m weak, and the thought of falling asleep next to him is intoxicating.
“Just this once. Let me have this.” It’s not a question, even though his eyes are pleading. He needs this more than he’s letting on, more than he can say. I’ve been there, not wanting to be alone with my thoughts. I get it, the need for a distraction.
“Hop in then, stud.” The car has barely started moving before we’re all over each other, much to the dismay of our driver. She grimaces at us through the rearview mirror, clearly pissed, but doesn’t interrupt otherwise.
I almost don’t hear her when she mutters “I better get a big fucking tip for this.”