vii. hurt me twice...

Throughout our almost four years at Davenport, we’ve seen our fair share of parties, and various parts of our not-so-small county. We’ve crossed borders, skipped towns, and jump states, all in the name of a good time.

We’ve seen the ‘wrong’ side of town, the middle-class areas, and those so prestige I’ve seen people trek tiled driveways as if they’re stepping on gold.

The last always reminds me that there are students at our school who are too humble for their own good.

Student of the night is Lorenxo Diez. In-state, county, and on the more prestigious side of town. While his parents’ money isn’t something he flaunts to where it’s nauseating, it’s not something one can overlook. He still drives a Benz to school and wears designer clothes when it’s called for.

Unlike most rich kids his age, Lorenxo only chooses to show off whatever black T-shirt or hoodie he owns that looks the same as the one he wore the day before, and the day before that. And the day before that.

Known to throw some of the more outrageous parties in our area, Lorenxo doesn’t just invite kids from our school. I’ve met kids who’ve come from schools in New York and even Washington D.C.. I have no clue how he does it, but if his parties are known in different states, there’s no reason why his parents shouldn’t know their house is basically a club for high schoolers half the time.

It’s always an adventure showing up here, though. That’s probably why Von is practically skipping in her heels as we enter the large wooden double-doors.

It’s a little after one in the morning and the music is still blasting to the point where I can feel the vibrations in the ground. It’s a good thing the closest neighbors are about a mile away.

The rest of the girls and I stand in the door for a moment, taking everything in. Von on the other hand is walking backward, her hips swaying and arms raised above her head.

“Can I just be her?” Gina says, leaving me and Jodene to go dance with Von.

I’m a second away from joining them when Jodene nudges me. I look down at her, noticing she subconciously has her hand on the spot below her right boob over her top, where her tattoo is. I follow her line of sight when she points at something toward the right of the room.

I catch Kellan easily, sitting on the arm of a couch with his feet on the cushions like he has zero home training whatsoever.

Too busy scolding him internally, it takes me a second to notice why Jodene is pointing him out. Strawberry blonde, half Kellan’s height, with her lips on his neck.

• Ew.*

I could’ve lived without the image. But the problem here would quickly show itself if Von catches said blonde. Von has an unhealthy obsession with my brother to where she steps in whenever a girl is too close to him.

I’ve asked her about it but she says he never tells her not to and that’s why she keeps doing it. Half the time, Kellan doesn’t acknowledge the girls that cling to him or he’s too nice to push them away. I don’t believe the latter, but Von has a great time keeping them away.

Looking back to Von, I see that her back is turned to that direction and there are too many people for her to see through.

“Ah… what she doesn’t see won’t make her go crazy,” I say over the music with a sheepish smile, then grab Jodene’s hand and pull her in the crowd.

Dark hair, dark eyes, dark clothes, and the absolute opposite of Reese, Lorenxo is what pathetic people my age call a ‘bad boy’.

The rich kid who’s misunderstood, who’s parents are never in town so he throws scandalous parties every other weekend to make up for the fact that he’s dying inside. Of loneliness, neglect, and heartache.

Or maybe I’m a bitch who overanalyzes things and takes them way out of proportion.

He walks into school every week with a fresh batch of bruises—on his face, knuckles, and arms if he’s feeling showy—but never fights in school. He always walks around with a wicked smirk on his face, like he’s plotting some grand scheme to blow up a building or let sharks loose in the school’s pool.

Why am I going into so much depth about Lorenxo? What’s so special about him?

Well, he’s Reese’s best friend, of course.

I watch, almost every other weekend as Lorenxo drinks and parties until he’s horking up a lung or passing out on his lawn, and I can’t help think that there’s something similar between him and his best friend.

Reese rarely ever gets as shit-faced at his friend but every time he does, I see the similarities. I see the destruction, the lack of control… how free they both seem. Like those few hours of irresponsibility and recklessness is what they live for.

Tonight, they’re both in the spotlight.

My eyes follow the two as they face off in whatever chugging war they’re in. Their heads tilted back and bottles of beer at their lips as they guzzle the liquid like water.

They do this four times, and Reese loses by a second.

My smile is almost instant at the way they all get riled up, not knowing who’d finished first, with half the crowd rooting for each boy.

“Just a heads up from a friend looking in from the outside.”

I look away from the drama, feeling like I’m coming out of a trance. Again. The music sounds too loud now, and the smell of sweaty teens and alcohol makes me queazy. I should be used to it by now, but this is why I hardly stay inside when I go to parties.

Jodene is casually mixing a concoction in her red cup. She’s not looking at me, so for a second, I’m confused whether she’d been talking to me before. Until her next words.

“You look like a proud girlfriend,” she says, taking her eyes from her liquor mixing and to me.

I don’t know what to say, because I’m too stunned at the bluntness. No one’s beating around the bush with me today.

I go the desperate route.

“Don’t you have a secret boyfriend to run off to?” I make a shooing motion with my hand, my other tightening around my Starbucks cup that’s filled with ice water. I take it everywhere.

Her smile is both amused and unimpressed. “Mature.”

Mine is more genuine. “As always.” But then my curiosity takes over and I say, “But seriously, don’t you? Did he come?”

Her expression morphs into a shy one and her cheeks redden. She turns away, her bobbed, dark hair shielding most of her face from me.

Grinning, I saddle up next to her, waiting for a response while jabbing her playfully in her side until she cracks.

“Okay! Would you quit it.” She pushes my hand away and takes a long drink from her cup, downing most of it. “Of course, he’s here. We were talking a while ago. He was outside with some of his friends, but I don’t want to seem clingy.”

I let out a huff of air soundly, wanting to tell her to go be clingy but also understanding where she’s coming from. The last thing a girl ever wants to be in a new relationship is clingy.

After some thinking and not coming up with a good plan, I give up. “We should go find Von for this. As you know, I have the worst history with guys.”

She gives me a grateful smile and I return it, wondering what I plan on daring her to do tonight. The day is winding down quickly, and dawn is only a few hours away.

Dare Day is a lot more than a measly twenty-four hours. We give ourselves until sunrise the next day because we control shit like that. Plus, none of us ever know when the best dare will present itself and it’s only fair we go past midnight since the day doesn’t start for us until we get to school.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jodene says, turning toward me fully and giving me the full force of her sweet smile, “because you’re gonna take some shots for me.”

My smile falls. Her arm is already linked with mine and she’s dragging me toward the kitchen.

I’m not a drinker. Never have been, never will be. But every year, my friends have fun daring me to take shots because it only happens that one time every year. And out of us four, if it’s not obvious, I’m the lightest of the lightweights. At least I can hold two shots and still walk in a straight-ish line for an hour. I think.

“Why must you take out your misfortunes on me?” I say dramatically, clutching my cup to my chest.

“I only get to once a year,” Jodene says with a giggle. The sadist. “It’ll be fun,” she cheers when I groan.

Jodene doesn’t seem to have any trouble maneuvering me through the crowd. Her hand is wrapped tightly around my bicep and she’s dragging me along like I have no bodyweight.

“I’ll stay with you the entire time,” she says. “If you blackout after the third shot I’ll read you a bedtime story anyway.”

I laugh because I can’t not. I have the best but worst friends on this earth. Their insistent teasing about me not being able to hold my liquor is something routine. They don’t feel complete unless they’re cracking on me about it.

I’m in the middle of cursing her then threatening to dare her to tell Jake something embarrassing about herself when she pulls us to an abrupt stop.

“Asshat,” she starts but doesn’t say anything after that. Knowing her, her sailor’s tongue is burning. It only happens when she’s had enough drinks to loosen her vocabulary.

My smile falters when I see why we’re pausing.

Reese is standing in front of us, his eyes on me.

It’s pathetic; the way my heart starts to drum in my chest and my eyes subconsciously look for a way out because I’m not ready for this conversation. I’m not prepared for whatever it is he’s going to say, it doesn’t matter what it is.

His hand comes up and he points at me with his index finger, his expression twisting funnily. It’s the one everyone wears when they’re trying to remember something.

Swallow hardly, I say over the music, “Kira?” but it comes out like a question even though I somehow know that’s what he’s waiting for.

He snaps, nodding in that douchey way that rich boys do, and I feel bile in my throat.

Reaching up, he runs his hand through his tight curls, his body tilting toward me. “Remember what you did in Starbucks today?” he says, his voice higher than I’ve ever heard it but still almost drowned out by the bass of the music.

It’s my turn to grip Jodene’s hand but I can’t look away from his hazel eyes. He has the most beautiful eyes and even if I’d wanted to think differently for years, it never happened because it’s simply a fact.

He shakes his head, his curls falling across his forehead again when he drops his hand. My stomach feels like its resting on my feet.

“Don’t do that again, yeah?”

My body goes heavy at his words and it shouldn’t have. This doesn’t surprise me. What would’ve surprised me is if he’d come over to ask me out or even something as mundane like if I’m enjoying the party.

My tongue dries, making it hard to speak even if I want to. Forcing a smile, I press my lips together and clear my throat to get rid of the discomfort, and nod.

He grins. Actually grins, and I want to throw up on whatever expensive shoes he’s wearing.

The way he stumbles when he steps back tells me he’s out of it but it doesn’t change anything. He’s the same privileged, inconsiderate ass and hopefully, after tonight I won’t have to associate myself with him again. Not that I did much of it before.

Maybe those shots aren’t such a bad idea.