A Midsummer's Nightmare

CHAPTER 11

Nathan had to park his Honda a whole block from the party, which was a good thing for two reasons. First, it gave Bailey and me the chance to ditch him before we even got to the house. I don’t know about her, but I didn’t want to be seen with the guy wearing a shirt that said, MAY THE MASS TIMES ACCELERATION BE WITH YOU. Second, it meant there were tons of people at this party. And hopefully tons of alcohol, too.

So, while Nathan locked up the car, Bailey and I made a run for it. Only we didn’t really run, since we were both wearing less-than-abiding shoes (mine: platform slingbacks; hers: wedge heels), but we did manage to walk really, really fast. By the time we reached the front door of the party house—a total mansion, like Harrison had said—Nathan was far behind us. Well, he’d promised to stay out of our hair.

“Wow,” I heard Bailey gasp as the front door swung open for us, though I wasn’t sure if that was her reaction to the freakishly large house or to the drop-dead-gorgeous guy standing in front of us.

“Good evening, ladies,” he said, stepping aside to let us enter.

Automatically, I found myself standing up taller and sliding my shoulder blades back for optimum cleavage exposure. It was like a flirting reflex. I just wished I wasn’t all sunburned. “Hello to you.”

He grinned at me. A cocky, sexy grin. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said. He glanced at Bailey then. “Any of us. I’m sure I’d remember those pretty faces.”

I swear, Bailey was blushing so hard I could feel the heat radiating from her body.

“Oh, you’d remember,” I agreed, tossing back my hair and putting a hand on my hip. “I’m Whi—”

“Whitley!”

I jumped and spun around involuntarily. Harrison was standing beside me, looking thoroughly delighted. “Hello again, darling. You look gorgeous—and the lack of flip-flops is making my day. Those slingbacks are perfect!”

I nodded, glancing over my shoulder at the hot guy, but he’d already moved on and was chatting with a group of kids a few feet away. Goddamn it.

“Wesley is just so busy,” Harrison said, following my gaze. “You have to give him credit for being a great host. He talks to everyone. Seems like way too much work to me.”

“Yeah.” I wasn’t really listening. I decided I’d have to catch up with the guy later. He was my ticket to a good time. I’d just have to be careful not to drink so much I actually slept with him. Last time I let that happen, it hadn’t exactly ended well.

Next to me, Bailey cleared her throat.

“Oh, um, Harrison,” I said, snapping back to attention. “This is Bailey… my, uh, future stepsister or something.”

Harrison’s eyes lit up. “Nathan’s baby sister? Oh, that’s so sweet. Did your brother come with you?” he asked Bailey.

“Yeah. He drove.”

“Oh, goody.”

I rolled my eyes.

Harrison shrugged and smiled at Bailey again. “Great dress, by the way. Summer colors look amazing with your skin tone. So lucky you can pull off yellow.”

“Oh… thanks,” she said. “I got it on sale.”

“Nice job,” he said. “Okay, so… drinks?”

“Oh, Christ, yes,” I said.

Bailey followed behind as Harrison and I made our way through the crowd toward the dining room. The place was packed with teenagers, and there didn’t seem to be an adult in sight.

Harrison poured me a shot of tequila when we reached the kitchen. It was expensive tequila, much better than the stuff in my bedroom. I knocked it back in a heartbeat and set my glass on the counter, gesturing for Harrison to pour me another.

“Can I have one?” Bailey asked.

Harrison looked at me questioningly, and I shrugged.

“Here you go,” Harrison said, handing a shot glass to her before pouring my second round.

I watched her bring the glass to her lips, sipping at the liquor a little at a time.

“Not like that,” I told her. “You have to drink it all at once. Sipping at it like that will just make you miserable because it tastes like shit.” Harrison held out my glass and I took it from him. “Like this.” I downed it, the way I had the first, and put my glass back on the counter.

“Okay,” she said. She took a deep breath and lifted the glass to her lips. I could almost hear her thoughts, counting down. Three, two, one… And then she drank it all. She sputtered a little, her face contorting at the taste, but she recovered pretty fast.

“There you go,” I said, taking her glass.

“I… Can I have another one?”

“Don’t overdo it just yet,” I said. I thought for a moment, then picked up a glass, pouring her a little more tequila. This time, I half filled the cup, then mixed the alcohol with some fruit juice that had been left out. “Here. It won’t taste wonderful, but you can sip on this for a while.”

“Thanks,” she said, taking the cup from me.

“Bailey,” Harrison said. “You know, I have some friends who’d just adore you. Are you about to start high school? Freshman?”

She nodded.

“Fabulous.” He winked at me and took Bailey by the elbow. “Follow me, darling. There is a whole posse of sophomore boys who would just eat up a cutie-pie like you.”

She looked over her shoulder at me, grinning from ear to ear, as Harrison led her away.

“I’ll catch up with you in a little bit,” I told her. “Have fun.”

I downed my third shot before mixing the juice and tequila for myself. Then I carried my glass back into the huge living room. The stereo was playing loud music—actually, it was pretty cool. Normally at this kind of party you heard the same rap shit. But this one seemed to be a little more upscale. Some really interesting piano rock boomed through the speakers, giving the place a more relaxed vibe. Of course, that meant no one was dancing. Honestly, though, that was probably a good thing.

With me, tequila combined with dancing often led to public stripteases.

I circled the room for a while, scanning the crowd that had congregated in the mansion. I recognized some faces from the Nest. Others were complete strangers. But it seemed like every type of person was at this party. Punks, emos, jocks, preps, geeks, and stoners. I wondered if every teenager in Hamilton was in this house.

About halfway through my third trip around the room, just as the tequila started to kick in, I spotted Wesley, the hot host. He was sitting on one of the couches, talking to some blond girl with a ponytail. When she stood up and walked away, I took my chance and dropped into the seat she’d abandoned.

“Hey,” I said, crossing my legs and leaning a little toward him. “Nice party.”

“Thank you. It took me forever to convince my parents to leave long enough for me to have something like this. But I figured a year away at college deserves a big welcome-home party.”

“I think it does, too,” I agreed. “Where do you go to college?”

“Columbia. I’m a business major.”

“Wow. Smart and ambitious. That’s a pretty big turn-on for girls, you know.”

“That’s what I’m told,” he said. “Anyway, I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to talk earlier, and even sorrier I didn’t get your name.”

“Whitley.” I didn’t mention my surname. Last time I’d done that, the guy had totally admitted to crushing on my dad. No way was I letting that happen again. “And let me guess—you’re Wesley, right?”

“That’s right. Good guess.”

“It was, huh?” I said, rubbing my lips together. “Hmm… In that case, I think I deserve a prize.”

“A prize?” He laughed.

“Of course,” I told him. “I totally deserve to be rewarded. On TV, when people guess the right answer, they get a prize. I want a prize, too.” I scooted a little closer, my leg brushing his. “But I’d be glad to share. I’m not greedy.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but before the words came out, a girl collapsed onto the cushion on his other side.

“I hate parties,” she growled.

Wesley turned his head to face her. She was short, with wavy auburn hair and a horrific sense of style. Her red Converse tennis shoes looked about six years old, and her T-shirt was so faded it looked like it would be a prime choice for a detergent commercial. Not the cool, store-bought faded, either. She needed a severe wardrobe check. Harrison would have had a field day with this girl.

“Hello there,” Wesley said. To my surprise, he slipped an arm around her shoulders. “I see that it’s working, then?”

“What is?” she asked.

“My strategy. The bigger the party gets, the sooner you’ll retreat upstairs to my room, and then my victory can be secured.”

She rolled her eyes as he placed a kiss at the junction between her shoulder and neck. “Perv.”

He laughed. “Plus, you’re hotter when you’re annoyed.” He looked back at me. “Whitley, this is my girlfriend, Bianca. Bianca, this is Whitley, the amazing name guesser.”

Wait. His girlfriend? Seriously? In my experience, boys this hot rarely committed to anyone less than a supermodel. He was way out of this girl’s league. Hell, Wesley was way out of my league.

“Well,” she said, glancing at me, “it won’t be long before I retreat if every girl here is going to insist on flirting with you.”

“Can you blame them?” he asked.

“Of course I can. A smart girl would find your egomania repulsive.”

“You know you like it.”

“Maybe,” she said. “But it took me a while. Your first impression? Not exactly charming.”

“Hello to you, too,” I muttered, even though I’d already been forgotten.

This was the second time I’d been shot down since arriving in Hamilton. Once because the boy was more interested in my dad, and now I’d been rejected for a girl in saggy jeans.

He kept his arm around her, and they started having a whole conversation that I was clearly not a part of. Names I didn’t know. Places I’d never been. After a while, I stood up and left them on the couch. I wasn’t drunk enough yet to think this was funny.

I didn’t see Bailey when I pushed through the crowd. I thought about looking for her, since I’d promised Nathan I’d keep an eye on her, but after a second I decided against it. Nathan was being ridiculous and uptight. Bailey was probably having a great time, meeting kids from her school. She would hate me if I interrupted her fun or embarrassed her by checking in on her. Bailey was smart; she could handle herself. Smarter than I was at her age, anyway.

I poured myself another shot. Two more shots. Within ten minutes, I was smiling from ear to ear. Tequila made everything better.

“Hi.”

I turned around and found a guy—kind of cute, nothing special, but I wasn’t picky—smiling at me. I grinned, putting my glass on the counter and leaning back against the cabinets. “Hey.” I giggled. He had a nose like a pug’s, and his hair was all spiky—it reminded me of a porcupine. “How are you?”

“Better now that I’ve met you.”

Wow. That was lame. I snorted with laughter.

“So, what’s your name?” he asked.

“Whitley.”

“That’s a sexy name.”

“You bet your ass it is.”

He smirked.

Five minutes later, the guy and I were going at it in a downstairs bedroom. Around the time his hand slid under my top, I realized I was really, really bad about getting boys’ names.

I needed to work on that.