Downright Misfits (Downright Delinquents 2.0)

Chapter Four

There are too many bodies crammed into this room.

The air is stuffy with sweat and smoke. For a second, I let my eyes close and the ache seizes. I should be in bed. I took a Valium, and it's set in, making me feel docile.

I find a place on the floor, close to Wren. He peers over to me. I draw my thighs to my chest and drape my arms over my knees. He wasn't surprised when I showed up about an hour ago, with Constance in tow.

"I think I'm your ex's new target," I inform him.

He doesn't meet my eyes. "I don't doubt that."

"How long were you together?"

"Not long."

"How long is not long?" I question. I don't know why I care so much. It might be the Valium, or maybe it's those damn blue eyes.

"Three months."

"Oh."

"Not long," he says again.

His thumb is running circles over the label of his bourbon. He has mixed it in a plastic red cup with coke.

"How does everyone get this?" I point to the bottle, noticing everyone has a cup in their hand.

"It's a corrupt system," he answers. "Easier than you'd think. Are you drinking?"

I shake my head and rest against the wall. "Took a Valium."

He side-eyes me. "You shouldn't be taking those."

I look around the room, ignoring him, asking myself why he is being nicer to me now than he was earlier today.

Harlow has Constance pressed against the wall. One hand cupping her face, the other fondling her chest. I screw my face up. A guy with sandy blond hair smiles at me. He raises a finger, beckoning me over. I pretend I don't see it and continue my scan of the room. A shadow crosses me.

"New girl," the boy smiles. "Come sit with me."

I exhale through my nose, tiredness gnawing at my bones.

"What is better over there than here?"

"Me," he grins.

Reaching down, his warm hands envelope mine, pulling me to my feet. He curls an arm around me and when we get to the chair, pulling me onto his lap.

"The guards allow this?" I ask him, watching his fingers walk up my thigh. I'd usually be tense in this situation, but the Valium has helped me relax.

"Harlow's brother is security on this floor tonight."

"I see."

"It's quite the corrupt place here, when you get to know who is who," he informs me smugly and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. It seemed much cooler when Wren said it. "Where are you from?"

"Boring," I sigh, looking back across the room.

Wren is watching me quietly, taking a sip. He sticks his middle finger up and tilts it, smirking at me.

"What?"

"Small talk. Are you going to do something with that mouth or talk all night?" I ask, still not paying attention to him, but to Wren.

Sandy-hair shifts me so I'm straddling his lap. I lean down, my hair falling like a curtain around my face as our lips connect. His kisses are wet—too warm, too much saliva, too much beer. A few whistles can be heard as I sink my hips deeper into his. His hands explore my sides with heaviness and not enough confidence. I mentally sigh.