Only If She Stayed

09. Moonlight & Broken Sight

"WHAT'S YOUR IDEA?" Reagan questioned Tyler. We were all waiting to hear what his marvelous plan was.

I was using the word marvelous loosely here. Anything that came from the infamous and notorious fuckboy of West Vista high had to be faulty in some areas.

You could say that my dislike for him was deep, but it was only because of the lack of respect he had for every living being on earth. The minuscule amount of respect that was harbored in his mind was reserved for himself and his fellow male teammates.

Tyler said a short phrase to the girl on the countertop with him. She then proceeded to go through the cupboards, fishing out a unopened set of blue disposable cups.

I realized, the longer I looked at her, the more I wondered who she was. She probably didn't go to West Vista High. My assumption would have to be that she went to Orson High.

"This is Claire, by the way," Tyler said as if he knew what I was thinking. "This is her house."

A handful of people in the circle muttered a greeting to her while she gave out the disposable cups. She flipped her auburn hair and flashed all of us a picture-perfect smile. She seemed nice.

I sensed a drinking game approaching us, knowing that was where things would lead to.

I had known Edgar long enough to already be aware of his plans if he started drinking. He'd have his friend Derek drive us home. He was at the party, too, but he didn't drink alcohol for health reasons. His tolerance was so low that it amazed most people when they heard about it.

"You didn't specify on what the game was," Edgar reminded Tyler, moving the plastic cup into his opposite hand. Claire went back around the circle of partygoers and poured golden liquid into each cup. The alcohol bottle in her hand had the words Fireball written in large letters, and underneath an image, I spotted the word Whiskey.

I never had Fireball Whiskey before, but after hovering my nose over the liquid and smelling it, I didn't like it.

Claire took a while to get to everyone. She could've made this a lot easier for herself if she had poured the drinks on the counter and then handed them out. It was her party though; I wasn't going to throw that in her face.

I swished around the content in my cup, observing it swirl. It was half full when she finished. Unsurprisingly, Edgar took the cup from me and put a quarter of it into his.

"You don't need to drink that much," he breathed into my ear. "I don't want to end up babysitting you throughout the night."

"Then why did you invite her?" Michael had interjected, eavesdropping into our conversation. "Did you invite her so she could be the one babysitting you instead while you puke your guts out? Classy, Edgar. Very classy. You really are the gentleman this generation desperately needs; a man who isn't afraid to throw up in front of his girlfriend like a champ."

Please stop, I mouthed to Michael and coiled my arm around Edgar. Purposely, I angled my body toward Edgar, hoping that it would distract him for the insult.

"Watch it, Sinclair. You're walking on thin ice." Edgar's jaw tightened. "Why don't you butt-out of our private talks?"

"If you guys are going to fight, please move it outside." Claire annoyingly popped her gum at us. "My parents recently installed new carpets and I don't want to spend my weekend cleaning blood off of it."