Scandal by Jay Mirano (e book reader pc .txt) 📖

   It felt like the whole room was throbbing. I could barely hear myself think over the monotonous drone of the music―Super Bass, it sounded like, good God I don't think I can handle Nicki Minaj right now―not to mention the pounding in my head wasn't helping much. Why had I agreed to come to this thing? I squeezed my eyes shut, leaning my head against the wall to try and block out the sounds of laughing and screaming and shouting coming from all around. What's that old trick? Click your heels three times and you'll be home? Hm, wouldn't hurt to try it, I suppose―

   "Lighten up, you've got the face of a horse."
   I opened one eye and peered at Sahara through mascara-choked lashes. Sahara Bell, a.k.a 'The Bitch', a.k.a my best friend, was giving me her patented I hate you glare. Usually it was reserved for people who tried to take her seat in class, or maybe someone who just breathed in her direction too much. She flipped her ombre hair over her shoulder and curled one of her perfectly glossed lips at me.

   "Why did I agree to come to this lame ass party? So not in the mood."
   "Oh boo, you Nana. Here, have some of this."
   She thrust a Fanta bottle at me, but the liquid inside was anything but soft. It was Sahara's famous blend of orange coolaid, vodka, and whatever else she could find in her Dad's liquor cabinet. I unscrewed the cap and downed as much as I could handle. I screwed up my nose as the burning alcohol clawed its way down my throat, then took another sip. 

   "What the hell is that, 90% vodka?"
   Sahara shrugged, grinning. "I might have been a bit heavy-handed with the Smirnoff."
   I handed her back the bottle, feeling the vodka hit my stomach like a warm wave. She took a swig as well, stamping her feet as she forced the mix down. "Goddamn, that's the stuff."
   "Are you sluts getting your drink on without me?" I looked up to see Taylor leaning against the door frame, arms across her chest, propped up one on hip.

 
   "Tink! Oh my god I've missed you," Sahara went running over, grabbing Taylor by the neck and swaying against her, face buried in her shoulder. We usually called Taylor 'Tink', since she looked so much like the original Tinkerbell―white-blond hair, elfish features, tiny and short but a little firecracker if someone set her off.
   "Jeez, it's only been a day," she said, disentangling herself from Sahara. Sahara was the kind of drunk that got very affectionate, something her boyfriend Jesse was quite appreciative of. 

   Tink walked over to me, slinging an arm over my shoulders and leaning her head against mine. She smelled like Herbal Essences and Marc Jacobs Daisy. Trailing in her wake was the ever-present Tyler, her twin brother who always lingered wherever his sister was. He was basically Tink in boy form, same white-blond hair, slender nose and defined features, but where Tink had sharp, high cheekbones, Tyler had a chiseled, square jaw. Where Tink was short, Tyler was tall. We all knew that if it weren't for Tink, Tyler wouldn't have had a chance with our group. He was always the oddball, always just there like a bad smell. And he always insisted on wearing that damn fedora like it was the 50s or something. I didn't even acknowledge him as he walked over and joined our group, standing a little apart from us, but still close enough to hear our conversation. Ugh, what a buzzkill.

   "Any cute guys at this party?" Tink asked, standing on her tip-toes to scan the crowd. But at 4'11", she didn't have a chance at seeing over the densely packed partiers, but it was worth a try.
   "Haven't really had a chance to look, since someone―" Sahara shot an obvious look in my direction "―came over here and set up camp in this corner the second we got here." 
   Tink gave me a weird look. "I'm disgusted with you."

   I poked my tongue out at her and she pressed her lips together to stop from laughing. "Like you should be checking out cute boys anyway, Sahara. Something that starts with J, ends with E, and has that certain boyish charm you just never could resist," I said, nudging Sahara in the ribs with my elbow.

   "You're such a party pooper, you know that? Where is Jesse, anyway... I haven't seen him for a while." 
   Sahara stalked off to find her lover-boy, and Tink looped her arm through mine and led me away from my quiet, secluded haven. "I don't want to alarm you," she whispered. "But Evan is here and he was checking you out the whole time we were over there."

   I rolled my eyes. Yeah, like Evan would ever be interested in me. Tall, dark and handsome didn't quite cover Evan. He was the certifed badboy of Westerley High; rode a motorcycle to school, seemed to permanently have a cigarette clamped between his lips, and was in detention more than he wasn't. Just to be sure though, I shot him a glance and saw that he was, indeed, looking at me. Our eyes met and I felt a current of electricity shudder through me. I looked away and suppressed a smile.

   "You always were the delusional one, Tink," I said, manoeuvering us over to the drinks table and selecting two semi-cold beers for us. I hated beer, but I'd drink it if it were free. And since Sahara had disappeared with her little cocktail, I didn't have much choice. I was still way too sober to tolerate this party, although the vodka was finally starting to kick in.

   "You're a babe and you know it," he cast a wry look over her shoulder. "Just ask Ty." 
   "Oh would you stop with the whole Tyler thing," I took a swig of my beer to try and cleanse the bad taste out of my mouth that comment had left. "Never, ever, ever going to happen. I know he's your brother and all, but he wears a fedora. And those checkered pants are making me gag."

   She narrowed her eyes at me. "You know, if you gave him a chance you'd see he's really not all that bad," she looked around, lowering her voice conspiratorily. "And if you won't go for Ty, then Evan's got you on his radar."

   Before I could shoot her a cynical reply, she'd slipped into the crowd and disappeared in the dim mass of bodies. I was about to call out to her, until I felt a weight on my shoulder. 
   "And just why haven't you said hello to me tonight?" Evan asked, his chin on my shoulder, hands finding their way to my hips. "You know you look so good in red."
   I spun around, thankful that the lack of reasonable lighting would hide the blush creeping into my cheeks. "You know, you could say hi to me, we are friends after all." 
   "I just did," he was giving me that smile again. Oh god, that crease just beside his mouth was showing. Stop looking at Evan's lips. Look away, look away― "Why don't we hang out more?"
   I took another sip of my beer to give myself time to think. "Usually because you're too buy with your latest conquest to notice me," damn, that wasn't supposed to come out like that. Did I just sound like a bitch? Oh god, where was Sahara when I needed her?
   Evan cocked an eyebrow at me. "And what if I have my sights set on someone new?"
   I gulped. "Someone like who?" Oh man, I hope that came out as the seductive purr I had hoped it did.
   His hands moved from my hips to my waist, pulling me in close. I could feel his breath on my neck, his sky-blue eyes boring into mine. "Someone in a little red dress that would look a lot better on my―"
   "Ahem, am I interrupting something?" Sahara asked, grabbing my elbow and pulling me away from Evan. "I hate to be annoying, but I'm having an MBE and I need Tali immediately." 
   "MBE?" Evan looked thoroughly pissed off.
   "Major bitch emergency," he looked at Evan like he'd just asked her what 1+1 was. "Anyway, nice chatting to you Eddie!"  
   "It's Evan," he grumbled, his voice getting swallowed by the noise and the music.
   Sahara tugged me away, out of the lounge and onto the less crowded staircase. "What was that about?" I asked, snatching my arm away. "Evan was actually hitting on me I think."
   "Exactly, I was saving you from making a huge mistake," she leaned back against the railings, hands on hips. "Plus I still haven't been able to find Jesse and I know he's here." 
   "Have you called him?" 
   "Maybe," he took an over-long glug of her bright orange drink. "Yes. And texted him. Like a million times."
   "He's probably playing beer pong in the basement," I sighed, looking over Sahara's shoulder for Evan. "Have you checked down there?"
   "Duh! Of course I have. I've checked in every room except one."
   "Which one?" 
   "Master bedroom. It's locked."
   "That doesn't mean anything. Besides, do you really think Jesse would hook up with some girl at a party that he knew you'd be at?"
   Sahara blinked at me, a slight frown pulling down at the corners of her mouth. "I guess. But can you come on a stake-out with me, just in case?"
   "Obviously." 

   We made our way up the staircase, trying to look stealthy but probably just looking like a pair of idiots. I could really feel the vodka working now, blurring the edges of my vision and making the ground seem violently unsteady beneath my feet. The stairs seemed to be swaying underneath me, wavering like rippling water. I reached out for Sahara but it was too late; I was falling backward, arms flailing at my sides, desperately grappling for something to grab a hold of. I faintly heard Sahara yell out, "Timberrrrrr!" before I landed in a heap on my ass at the bottom of the stairs.

   Sahara was laughing hysterically, one hand holding onto my elbow and pulling me up, while another unknown force was yanking at my other arm. I looked to my side, realizing Evan was the one with his arm around my waist, hand on my forearm, setting me back on my feet.
   "How much have you had to drink?" He asked, forehead crinkled with concern.
   "Just one... A lot of one," my mind was hazy. What was I saying? "I―I like your face."
   "C'mon, let's get you home," Evan was draping my arm over his shoulder and hoisting me up. "Where do you live?"
   "Nah-uh, you can't just take my girl off someplace in your car," Sahara was tugging on my arm again. "You could be some kind of creep!" 
   "I live on Willowbank," I said, smiling up at Evan. The world still seemed so lopsided, and it felt good to have Evan holding my upright. 
   And then Sahara was shrieking and running back up the staircase. I heard, "You fucker!" and something along the lines of, "Jesse I am going to kill you, you sonofabitch," before Evan was helping me out the door and into the sticky, summer night air.