“If you must know, Brett invited us. He knows a guy who knows the guy who owns this place.”
“Sounds legit,” I deadpan.
When Madison begged me to come along as her buffer tonight, I was expecting the party to be in a sad little basement with beer pong, sticky floors and regret marinating in the air.
Instead, I’m waltzing around a goddamn mansion where the cars parked outside probably cost more than my parents’ house. Hell, more than my entirelife.
“Give it ten minutes. If it’s terrible and we don’t find Henry, we’ll leave and go watch a movie or something.”
“Fine.”
Two hours later, Madison is still Henry-less, and we’re standing by the pool like unwanted extras in someone else’s porno. Bodies writhe in the water, leaving nothing to the imagination over what’s going on underneath.
My cousin is completely unaware of the X-rated aquatics, though. She’s dancing on her tiptoes, scanning the crowd for aguy who, if we’re being brutally honest, probably couldn’t pick her out of a two-person lineup.
But what the hell do I know?
I’m just the emotional support cousin. I don’t go to their school, so I’ve never actually seen how the guy looks at her.
“Oh! There he is!” She claps her hands in excitement, practically vibrating at the chance to show him her ‘revenge dress.’
“Fucking finally,” I mutter, not bothering to mask my disdain. Honestly, Madison’s time is definitely better spent elsewhere, and by elsewhere, I mean with the brooding, looming hockey player in the corner of the room who’s been dutifully standing next to her brother all night.
She jabs her finger toward some douchebag sporting what can only be described as a horticultural disaster on his head. A mop of curly brown hair sprouts from a buzzed undercut. My mother, in her infinite suburban wisdom, calls it the “broccoli cut,” but I've always thought “Alpaca who stuck its dick in an electrical socket” is more accurate. Either way, he’s kind of cute, but is a far cry from Dash. Maybe that’s what got her interested in him in the first place.
Her ex tilts his chin in our direction, which is the universal gesture of “I see you but don’t give enough of a shit to actually want to engage with you.” No wave. No smile. Sounds about right for an ex.
“Come on. Let’s go and show him what he’s missing.” She laces her fingers through mine and tugs me toward him. When I resist, she spins back around, confusion flickering across her face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I lie, but I really can’t take the thought of having to watch my cousin try to reason with a guy who thinks that’s an attractive haircut. Not wanting to offend Madison because I love her to pieces, I point my thumb behind me. “I just need to pee.”
“O-okay. I’ll come with you.”
I shake my head, freeing my hand. “No, no. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’ll find one of the sixteen bathrooms in this place and then come find you.”
She stares at me for a few seconds. I know why. I’ve never been great with new people and hate being left on my own at parties. However, my need to stay away from this cringe factor wins out.
“You sure?” Her eyes are already drifting toward the group of guys huddled near the makeshift bar. Wait a minute, do theyallhave that haircut? Glad I don’t go to their school.
“Go.” I force a smile, shoving her gently. “I'm fine. I’ll call you if I get lost.”
“Okay. I love you.” She kisses my cheek before vanishing into the crowd. The music blares and the bass vibrates through my ribs just as a cold breeze slices across my exposed stomach, reminding me I don’t belong here.
I exhale, long and tired. I should’ve stayed home.
Every doorway I pass gets a quick inspection, and soon, my bathroom hunt becomes the most entertaining thing of the night. At least here I can admire beautiful furniture instead of talking with hockey players whose most profound thoughts revolve around stick handling and protein shakes.
When I finally find a bathroom, I sit in there for longer than necessary and check through social media to waste a little more time. When I’ve gathered enough momentum to head back out, I slip out of the bathroom and attempt to find my way back to the pool. A hard task when the place is so big.
Seriously, I think I’m lost. I should’ve left myself breadcrumbs.
When I open another door, I gasp. It’s a library. The biggest one I’ve ever seen. Stacks upon stacks of beautiful books are all lined up just waiting to be read.
I can’t help myself; I slip in.
“Oh my gosh,” I whisper, moving to the center of the room so I can see just how big it is. The room so quiet, I can hear my footsteps.
Now this is the kind of party I could get used to.