Potentially You and Me (Two Truths and a Lie)

CHAPTER NINE: BOOZY RED VELVET

CHAPTER NINE: BOOZY RED VELVET

The pink and blue highlights in Stephanie's dark hair make a pattern down her back. It took her less than ten minutes to pull all the curls back and fishtail braid them. She's using her hand as a visor as she surveys the crowd in front of us, but unlike me she doesn't have to stand on her tip toes.

     "Ugh," she groans as she whirls back around to face me. That's how I know she isn't looking for Savannah or Megan, but rather the guy she is supposed to meet up with. "He said he was going to text me, but the service down here sucks." She glances down at her phone while I attempt to glue myself to the cement wall beside us as people continue to spill out of the doors a few feet behind us.

     Sneakers squeak and scuff against the floor while the clicking of people's heels is swallowed by the music. I do take note of some cute boots. Some have buckles, some have heels, and some have buckles and heels. Stephanie was going to wear her tan booties but opted for sneakers last minute when she saw I was wearing mine.

     "Well, look who it is!" Zack's head pops up behind Stephanie's shoulder, backwards baseball cap, plaid shirt and all. "Peas and Steph-a-knees."

     "Far left table," Stephanie mumbles as she glances up from her phone. Her gaze completely bypasses Zack as she stands up on her tip toes. She emits a little squeal as she waves before she turns back around and gives my wrist a quick squeeze. "Wish me luck!"

     "Good luck." I smile. "Be careful!" I yell over the music for good measure.

     "Whoa, hold up." Zack reminds me of his presence, and that's when I finally catch on to the dirty blonde wisps of Trent's hair behind his back. "Peas can't stand alone. They come in a pod."

     I laugh and even go as far as to shove his arm a little because the joke and nickname are getting old, but then I pull my hands back and tap my fingertips against the wall. "I'm Stephanie's wing-women tonight."

     "Whoa, hold up." Zack's head rears back this time as he repeats the phrase. His eyes ping-pong between me and the crowd of people in front of us a few times before he yanks Trent in front of him. "Not on my watch." I only hear Zack's words before Trent gets shoved into me face first.

     "Zack!" I shove my hands into Trent's chest to keep it from colliding with my face.

     Trent's sneaker covered feet only continue to stumble forward, and I grab a fistful of his navy-blue thermal with one hand and grip his bicep with my other hand to keep him from falling on top of me. What makes it worse is I can feel the vibrations of his chuckles through the waffle-patterned cotton material of his shirt. It's those uncontrollable chuckles paired with his haphazard attempt at shuffling his feet that make me realize that there must be more than blood running through his veins. The thought forces me to finally maneuver him so he's propped up against the wall beside us. It's only when I know he's not going to collapse that I finally let go.

     "Vanilla!" His eyes are all glassy and unfocused, and his cheeks are flushed.

     "Hi," I say but find myself leaning closer only because a new song begins to play, and it's filled with more heavy words opposed to a heavy beat. "Are you okay?"

     "I," he starts but pauses to push his right hand into the wall and nudge his shoulder a up little further. "I am wonderful." He throws his hand out as if to prove it, but his shoulder just ends up slipping again. "How are you?" he coos out the "you" as he slides himself not only up, but closer to me.

     I pass a glance to my right and catch on to some cheering from one of the tables, but all I can really see is people and their backs and their arms and their shoulders and their necks. Too many people. Too many backs. Too many arms. Too many shoulders. Too many necks. All this alcohol and sweat.