“Come on. Now.” I’m over being here, now that I see how much fun she is having.
Plus, I wasn’t even really planning on staying. Or maybe I decided that the minute Laura asked me to take Blair home. Either way, I don’t want to be here anymore.
“You’re not taking me home.” My former friend scoffs, wrenching her hand out of my grasp.
“And I’m not going to be the reason your dad is pissed. So let’s go.” I’m talking to her like she’s the dumbest person on the planet.
“Fuck you, I’m not five.” Blair clearly noticed my tone.
We may be arguing, but we still end up outside, where only the scantest of partygoers are loitering. The night is warm with a hint of the autumn air that is to come in the following weeks.
“Get in the truck, Blair.” It’s the first time I think I’ve said her name out loud, to her, in a year.
“Stuff it, Sawyer.” She’s drunk and clearly it’s giving her some kind of false confidence. “You’ll probably shove me out the side while the car is moving or something, anyway.”
“Yeah, because attempted murder looks real good on a college application.” I roll my eyes.
She crosses her arms over her chest and glares at me.
“You really don’t have to take me home. I’m pretty certain you still might dump me two miles from my house and make me walk, so thanks, but no thanks. You’re not some knight in shining armor. And I wouldn’t want to hold you back from dating someone prettier,” Blair slurs, her face coming close to mine.
Those final words she speaks dance in my head, sounding so familiar, and she spits them like venom.
“Who said we were going to date? And why would you ever hold me back?” I fire back, frustrated and confused.
“Just something I heard,” she singsongs in the most annoying voice I’ve ever heard.
I’m trying to suss out the cobwebs in my brain that are reassembling themselves around the words Blair has just spoken. And even though we’re arguing about whether or not she’s going to let me take her home, we somehow drift to the spot right in front of my truck. Both of us seem to keep saying we’ll avoid each other, that we want nothing to do with each other, but we’re constantly doing this circling dance around one another.
It’s dark, and I’m not paying attention to anything as Blair’s words swim in my head. That is, until I unlock my car and the interior lights go on.
“What the fuck?” I pull my hand away from the handle on my driver’s side door, something sticky coating my palm.
That’s when I notice the hundreds of … Jesus Christ, tampons are covering my Jeep.
Blair is practically doubled over, snickering like a hyena.
“Are you fucking serious with this shit?” I whirl on her, and she straightens.
“So maybe I had an ulterior motive for coming to this party.” She shrugs, a smug grin painting lips that are so full, they look like they’ve been sucked and bitten on for hours.
My car is covered in tampons, from roof to wheels, all over the windshield and in every nook and cranny. It smells like she put gobs and gobs of honey under the handle of my door, so that it’ll be sticky for weeks to come.
I round on her, and walk us backward, Blair stumbling as I advance on her. When her back meets the door of my truck, I bracket her body with my arms and get right in her face.
“Get. In. The. Car.”
7
Blair
I came to the party tonight because … well, I freaking wanted to.
Over the course of high school, I’ve been invited to fewer parties than I can count on my hand. Honestly, these things usually aren’t an invite-only type of event, but after the way Sawyer and his friends blackballed me from basically every social gathering or normalcy, I never wanted to show my face.
Until now. Laura and Nate convinced me to let my hair down and let loose, especially after the shitty week I had with losing the Spirit Night theme vote. And I figured, if you can’t beat the popular crowd, you could join ’em. And drink free alcohol while you’re at it.
Not that I’m an experienced drinker, or even a casual one. I’ve snuck a Mike’s Hard Lemonade here and there, maybe had a crappy cup of keg beer. But something in me kind of snapped this week, and I wanted to forget about the turmoil on student government, my advanced placement classes, and the pressure of applying to college.
And I was pleasantly surprised to find that, before my ex-best friend’s outburst at me being there, I was having a lot of fun. Nate, Laura, and I had all gotten ready together, the two of us girls doing our hair and Nate sifting through old yearbooks on my bed. We put on our favorite playlist as Laura drove us up to Hailey’s ranch house. I was nervous about the comments or treatment I’d get at the party, but once we settled in, I found that no one really cared about my being there.
In fact, I joined in on some of the group drinking games, and was actually decent at flip cup. Over the course of the last two hours, I started to feel … normal. I was blending in, there was a friendliness being paid toward me. No one picked on me, or made lewd comments.
Honestly, it wasn’t what I expected at all.
But what I never expected to happen was me, in Sawyer’s truck, getting a ride home from the one person who hated me more than anything. It’s strangely quiet in the cab of his Jeep, and my drunk self thought that this is the precise moment to laugh.
I chuckle, which turns into a cackle, which then turns into a snort. After a minute, I’m full on belly laughing next to him.
“What?” he bites out, whipping his gaze to me.
Those emerald eyes burn hot as they rove over me, and I squirm in the passenger seat. Even when he’s angry as all get out, he can still make me have dirty, dirty thoughts. And we’re alone. In the middle of nowhere on some back road in our hometown.
“I mean, I had to get you back for the Spirit Night theme. You know that, right?” As if reasoning with him is going to stop this feud.
“By wrecking my truck? Real fucking mature, Blair.” His voice is ice.
“You stole the one thing you know is really important to me in terms of school. I don’t give a shit about your little pranks, or making it so that no one wants to date me. But you went below the belt hijacking that class cabinet meeting. So I had to hit you back where it hurt.”
Laura and I decided to “decorate” his Jeep as a little revenge prank. Honestly, it was fun, and Sawyer played right into our hands. We knew exactly where he’d be tonight, and that everyone would be too drunk to look into the dark and notice two girls taping tampons all over the senior soccer stud’s prized possession.
Part of me is pissed that the whole party won’t get to see our handiwork in the light of day. Laura and I know that most of our fellow classmates slept off their hangovers at the ranch in their cars, or the bedrooms if they were lucky enough to score one.
But Laura getting too drunk and forfeiting her designated driver duties kind of ruined that plan. Serves her right, as it landed me in the carpool from hell.
“You always knew how to strike harder than I did,” he mutters.
Guilt flashes through me at how I ended our friendship, but I try to remind myself that he stole my final theme. And then there is the pros and cons list.