04 | Bad Distraction

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Bad Distraction

The smile that comes to Jalen's face does little to ease the nerves working its way into my system after agreeing to play a game.

He reaches for two bottles of liquor, before turning toward Malia on the couches and asking, "You playing too, Carrington?"

Malia briefly lifts her head from her phone, only to send a glare toward Jalen, who's grin widens in size at her obvious annoyance for using her last name. "No, Uccello, I'm not."

Jalen Uccello. I feel like I've heard that surname before, but it certainly doesn't sound like it's common. Hm, interesting.

Before I can ask about it, Malia makes me lose my damn train of thought by suddenly standing up and heading toward the door with her phone to her ear. Is this bitch really leaving me here?

"Where are you going?" I ask frantically.

She holds up a hand and waves it at me, but not in a heyyy kind of way, more like a shut the fuck up motion, and that makes my fists clench.

The door slams shut behind her after she exits. What else should I have expected? A rich girl and her privileged problems take priority over reconnecting with her cousin—who she dragged to this stupid fucking party and said she wanted to hang out with.

But whatever. I'm a big girl and I can handle myself... I think.

"What game are we playing?" I ask, curious as to why Jalen's carrying two bottles of tequila to the other side of the room.

Jalen seats himself on a two-seater couch, places the bottles onto the table, and looks at me expectantly. Taking the hint, I move closer, mentally debating where to sit. I'm assuming he sat on the two-seater so that we'd be next to each other, but considering the fact that we're literally all alone in a room that I'm ninety-nine percent sure is soundproof, I don't think I want to be that close to this stranger.

I gracefully sit—well, not really, more like throw myself—on the single seater chair located further down the small table he placed the liquor on. I maintain eye contact with the dark blue eyed boy the entire time, and once he notices I purposely sit far, a smile comes to his face, dimple popping out on the right side.

"Really? You couldn't pick a further seat?" He questions sarcastically.

I'm given no time to respond as his arm shoots out, gripping the leg of my chair and pulling it closer to the couch he's seated on.

"Excuse me," I say out loud, but he continues pulling my chair until it's close to the armrest he's leaning on. I reach out my hand and slap his arm away, but it's proven useless as he's already accomplished his goal of getting me closer.

My eyes roll on their own accord, though I'm honestly not too put off by the newfound closeness, even though I could hear him perfectly fine from where I previously was. The room definitely must be soundproof or something, because I could barely hear any noise coming from downstairs. I'd almost forgotten a party was going on.

"That's better. I almost couldn't hear you." The look I give him shows I don't believe that bullshit, seeing as I can't hear anything else but him and my breathing. "What? Remember, I'm partially deaf."

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