FROM THE AWARD-WINNING AUTHORS OF THE CHEATER.FAKER.TROUBLEMAKER SERIES (WATTY'S 2016, FICTION AWARDS 2016, HACHETTE AUDIO 2017), JENNY ROSEN & KRISTEN MAGLONZO.
After bullies, braces, and brutal heartbreak shatters his faith in love, soon-to-be fre...
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CHAPTER 21
Elias
Everybody says you're not doing homecoming right unless you black out at least once. And if that's the case, then I'm handling tonight like a King.
I don't know where I am.
My phone's buzzing through the side of my face--rattling right into my ears, but I barely hear the sound. The whole room's filled with noise. Muffled music. People shouting. Chaos. The walls are shaking from it. Heavy bass beating up through the floor.
I try to move--to lift myself up off the ground and get my head straight, but everything's sideways. The leaking base of the toilet sitting inches away from me, the pile of vomit spewed across the yellow-green tile floor, the girl sprawled out on the opposite side of the room.
I blink once, twice, trying to make sense of things and of her—but the mix of memories kicking around my head doesn't add up.
I don't know how I got here, how she got here, or how me, Ty, and his friends ended up in this place. I remember walking—wandering the streets around Mission Bay with a bunch of strangers hoping to get lost in the night.
I remember downing shot after shot on the sidewalk while me and the boys followed the trails of party girls who were laughing and stumbling into houses like this one. And, now I'm sprawled out on somebody's bathroom floor.
My clothes smell like somebody else's perfume. My mouth tastes like vodka, strawberries, and the wax of a stranger's lipstick.
I lift my hand to my lips—fingers shaking, and slowly run them along the edges. They come back stained—faded red. Snapshots of me pressed up against some girl in the corner of a beat-up couch pops into my head along with a million other reasons to panic.
I don't remember her face. Or her name. Or anything I did beyond making out with her.
I don't know if she's the stranger across the room or not.
Or if I'm the reason she ended up like this.
She's a picture of chaos.
Black tears streaked down her cheeks.
Hair scattered across her face.
Her little black dress lifted up to the point where her panties are exposed.
