That Summer

Six

Chapter Six ~ "Acrophobia and Paragliding"

•Kade Westin•

Truth to be told, I'd never been a huge fan of parties, no matter how many parties the guys would drag me to, saying it was good for 'our high school rep'. And this party was no different from any of those stereotypical high school parties; horny teenagers groping each other, loud music, the reek of alcohol and vomit, and crowded bars.

A section of the beach had been partitioned off for the party, with large lights providing light to the crowd, and speakers everywhere. Nearly three hundred teenagers were cramming into the space and some had already moved onto the serene waters of the beach, skinny dipping with their partners.

I was the designated driver of the night, mostly because I was the most responsible of them all, and because it took alot to get me even slightly tipsy.

I made my way towards the bar, where I ordered a beer. A girl not-so slyly winked at me as the bartender passed me a cold beer. Thank god for the invention of refridgerators.

"Thanks," I said, I sat on one of the torn chairs of the bar.

A small finger tapped my shoulder. I whirled around to see none other than a very drunk Quinn. Her eyes were unfocused and she was heavily leaning against the counter in order to stand up straight.

"Heyyy," she slurred, a half-empty beer in her hand.

"You're very drunk," I said, flatly.

"No shit, Sherlock," She said, sarcastically.

It made me wonder how she was this sarcastic and rude even when she wasn't in control of herself.

"Drunk but still a bitch," I noted.

"Sober, but still an ass," Quinn countered, without missing a beat.

"Touché." I smirked.

"Tell me something." She said, putting her hand on my arm in a seductive manner.

"Anything for you, Princess."

"Why do you hate me so much?" She asked, softly.

"Hate is a pretty strong word," I said, quite taken back by her question.

"Weak, hate is the word I want to use." She stated, rather childishly.

"What even gives you the idea I hate you?"

"Because you're a complete jerk to me, while you're so nice to the others. Since we landed in Crestville, you and I haven't had one civil conversation." She pouted slightly, losing balance.

"Are you saying you're jealous of the others because I'm nice to them?"

"What? No!" She pouted, childishly, and took a large swig of her bottle.

I tried to snatch the bottle from her, but she quickly swatted my hand away and looked me straight in the eyes. I held her gaze.

"Stop changing my words, Mr. Evil!" Quinn accused.

"Mr. Evil? How creative." I mused, chuckling lightly.

"Shut up and answer the goddamn question. Why do you hate me so much?" Quinn snapped.

This time I gave her an honest answer, but only because I knew she was too drunk to remember anything in the morning. "Because I know what kind of girl you are. A little girl spoiled by Daddy's riches, with the best clothes, the best cars, and the cutting edge of any technology. Your class of girls thinks that you own the world just because your parents have loads of money and girls like you are the rudest, the bitchiest, most spoilt people on the Earth."