Chapter 92 (1/2)

“Shit, sorry,” a drunk girl stutters.

“It’s fine, really,” I respond. Her black hair is so shiny that it literally makes me squint. How is that even possible? I must be more intoxicated than I thought.

“Come sit down before you get trampled over,” Steph teases, and I laugh before taking a seat on the edge of the couch.

“So did you hear about Jace?” Tristan asks.

“No, what about him?” The mention of his name makes my stomach turn.

“He got arrested, then just got out of jail yesterday,” he explains.

“What? Really? What did he do?” I ask.

“He killed someone,” the redhead answers.

“Oh my God!” I gasp, and everyone begins to laugh. My voice is much louder now that I’m on the verge of being intoxicated.

“He’s just fucking with you; he got pulled over and had some pot on him.” Tristan laughs.

“You are such a dick, Ed,” Steph says, and swats the guy’s arm, but I can’t help but laugh at how quickly I believed him.

“You should have seen your face.” Tristan laughs again.

Another thirty minutes go by with no sign of Hardin. I’m getting slightly annoyed by his absence, but the more I drink, the less I care. Some of that is due to the fact that Molly is within eyeshot, and I can see she’s found herself a blond plaything for the night. His hand keeps snaking up her thighs, and they’re both so drunk they look sloppy and ridiculous. Still, better him than Hardin.

“Who’s up now? Kyle has obviously had enough,” a guy with glasses says, gesturing to his drunken friend who is lying in the fetal position on the carpet.

I look over at the table lined with cups and put two and two together.

“I’ll play!” Tristan shouts, gently pushing Steph off his lap.

“Me, too!” she chimes in.

“You know you aren’t very good,” Tristan teases her.

“I am, too. You’re actually just mad that I’m better at it than you. But I’m on your team now, so there’s no need to be intimidated.” She bats her lashes playfully, and he shakes his head.

“Tess, you should play!” she yells over the music.

“Um . . . no, I’m okay.” I have no idea what they’re playing, but I know I would be terrible at it.

“Oh, come on! It’ll be fun.” She brings her hands into a praying motion to beg.

“What is it?”

“Beer pong, duh.” She shrugs dramatically before bursting into drunken laughter. “You’ve never played, huh?” she adds.

“No, I don’t like beer.”