As the door swings open I'm swallowed by darkness, making it so I'm only able to make out the sounds filling the room. Heavy breathing, sheets crumpling, and...moaning?
As my eyes adjust to the darkness of the room, I manage to make out two people laying on a bed. The one on top is Mason, beneath him lies a girl I don't recognize. His mouth appears to be latched onto her neck, and her fingers are digging into his auburn curls. All I see is bare skin. At the sight, I can't help my breath catching in my throat, the choked sound making the couple finally realize they have company. They both turn to look at me and I freeze, but before they can say anything, I mumble a quick "sorry" and book it out of there, shutting the door behind me.
I spot an open door on the opposite side of the hall and, finally realizing that this is the bathroom, I go in, leaning against the door as it slams shut. Looking up at the ceiling I swallow hard, trying to ease the knot tightening in my throat. Ugh, this is so stupid! I will not cry about this! I refuse. I stare at my reflection in the mirror in front of me, taking deep breaths with my hand over my chest to try to compose myself.
Despite the fraction of attention I get from him occasionally, and the small flirtations here and there that, in retrospect, I may have been reading too much into, I've always known that anything coming of my crush on Mason was a long shot. I know he sleeps around. I knew that keeping my expectations low was probably my best bet at self-preservation. Still, I've let myself hope and being confronted with a hope-pulverizing sight, such as the one I just stumbled into stings. Just a lotta bit.
Once I manage to steady myself, I shake my head to snap out of it and fix my hair in the mirror before I come out. I steal a glance at the room they were in but the door is now wide open, which I'm hoping means they're outside by now.
I head to the kitchen and pour myself another drink before walking to the empty living room and taking a seat on the couch. I need a few more minutes before I can go back out there. With one hand, I take long swigs of my drink, I run the other one through my hair and rest my head on it while I look down at the ground. My eyes are fixed on the hardwood floor when I feel the weight shift on the couch.
"Tough night?" The person sitting next to me asks.
I half-heartedly laugh and shake my head, taking another drink. "You have no idea." When I finally look up I'm met with a pair of piercing green eyes, rimmed by the darkest and thickest lashes I have ever seen. "What about you?" I ask, turning my head towards him, "Shouldn't you be out there...hosting or something?"
"Meh-" Noah shrugs-"Being the host is overrated, you don't even get to enjoy your own party. It's mostly just going around making sure nothing gets broken, stolen, or that no one passes out on my front lawn. And a whole lot of cleaning up other people's puke."
"Please don't talk about vomit," I plead, rubbing at my temples, sensing an oncoming migraine, "I'm feeling sick to my stomach enough as is." I steal a look out the window behind him, spotting Mason not too far away from us. His arm is snaked around that girl's waist, who I now recognize as Brianna, and his fingers are sneaking under the hem of her shirt playfully. Noah looks in the same direction and then back at me.
"Guy trouble?" he asks.
I take a big gulp, "Painfully obvious, isn't it?" I ask, my eyes heavy.
"At our age, most problems revolve around guys, girls, or both," He shrugs, clasping his hands together and resting his elbows on his knees, "Just an educated guess."
"A correct one, too," I confess, averting my eyes back to the floor. The corners of my vision are starting to get a little fuzzy and I swirl the contents of my cup around debating whether or not I should quit drinking while I'm ahead. Though considering my emotional state, I decide against it and raise the cup back to my lips.
"You want to tell me about it?" Noah asks.
I stop mid-swig and address him with furrowed eyebrows. "Why would I do that?"
He shrugs "I don't know. Maybe relaying some of the weight onto someone else could help."
"I doubt it," I scoff.
"Give it a try anyway." Noah shifts in his seat, now facing me with one foot on the floor and the other on the couch, his arms wrapped around his raised knee.
"I've already tried. My friend's ears are probably raw by now with how much I talk about it."
"You're friends with Tyler right?" he tilts his head curiously, his chin resting on his knee. "I saw you come in with him."
Tyler. Where is Tyler? I wonder how long it's been since I left him to fend for himself. I nod, looking over Noah's shoulder and out the window, trying to spot the one person with icy white hair in a sea of brunettes. It should be an easy task, given his height and the fact that no matter where he goes he always stands out, but scanning over the crowd I still can't see him.
"Is he the one who's got you wound up?" Noah asks and my attention snaps back to him.
"Oh, no. He's the one with the raw ears."
"Are you going to tell me what's wrong or do I have to keep playing this very one-sided game of twenty questions?"
This, I realize, is a terrible idea. One I'm sure to regret soon. But everything about this night has been a bad idea, so what's one more to add to the list?
I sigh "So...There's this guy." I start, fidgeting with my hands
"We've established that."
"Do you want me to tell you or not?" I scold.
"Yes, sorry. Carry on." His cheek is pressed against his knee, making his mouth look like he's pouting.
"I've been hung up on him for a while now, probably way too long. He clearly knows about it, and I...I don't know, I'm kind of starting to feel like he just keeps me around as a means to stroke his ego."
"How do you figure?"
"He ignores me until I start to lose interest and right at that moment he comes back in with the right thing to say or do to rope me back in."
"Ah, the quintessential fuck boy move," he nods in understanding, "I'm familiar."
I raise a brow, "You mean you've used it?"
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, "You calling me a fuck boy?"
"I thought you were admitting to being one."
"Let's circle back to your problem," he not-so-subtly deflects, "You want my opinion?"
"I have a feeling you're going to give it to me either way."
"I am, so pay attention, because this may come as a bit of a shock to you," He scoots closer, before dramatically looking sideways as if checking for eavesdroppers, and the next time he speaks it sounds like a stage whisper. "I don't think you actually like him. I know, I know-" he rushedly assures me, as if he was expecting me to interrupt, gesturing with his palms flat towards me- "Crazy thought, but hear me out. Listening to you talk about this, sounds more like attraction or infatuation to me. But it doesn't sound like you like him that much as a person, as a whole. You sound exhausted. And this might just be my juvenile opinion but liking someone shouldn't be an arduous task. Right?"
I study him in silence for a moment, his soft expression contrasting with my confused one. What the hell is happening? I want to ask, but instead opt for: "How many drinks have you had?"
His brows knit together. Not the answer he was expecting. He absentmindedly scratches the back of his head. "I don't know. Maybe two?"
"You're not nearly drunk enough for us to be having this conversation." I raise my cup but he takes it from my hand before I can touch it to my lips. He knocks the contents back and downs what's left of my drink in one gulp before handing me back the cup, his fingertips feather-light as they brush mine.
"Better?" He smiles crookedly and it's such a captivating sight I'm almost tempted to mirror it.
"Not quite."
Without another word he stands and disappears into the kitchen. For a moment, there's quiet. Then, the distant sound of a clock ticking, the muffled bass of the music playing in sync with my heartbeat, footsteps heading my way. When I look up I see Noah with a half-full bottle of clear liquid in hand. He sits back down next to me and raises the bottle to his mouth taking a big swig, his face unflinching. He studies me for a moment and then tilts the bottle towards me in offering. I grab it by the neck and take a shot. I very visibly flinch and he lets out a small laugh as he wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. We pass the bottle back and forth in silence for a while. Whether mere minutes or hours have passed, I can't tell.
I wonder if my friends are looking for me, or if they've seen me through the window and decided not to interrupt whatever this is. The thought feels distant, like my brain is working at a too-slow pace to catch up with my train of thought.
"So about this thing," Noah's voice breaks the silence, a little lower than it was before and with a slight drag to it. "What are you going to do about it?"
"I don't think there is anything to do," I say, sounding more dramatic than I intend to.
"There always is," he replies.
"That's some pretty positive thinking you've got going on," I tease.
"How about you just let it out?" he offers, ignoring my comment.
"What do you mean? Is that not what I've been doing sitting here talking to you?"
"No, you're holding something back. I can tell. Clearly, you're mad. Frustrated at least. So just let it out. You got me drunk, and while I can't promise I won't remember about this tomorrow, at least the memory of what you say will be a little fuzzy."
"I don't know..." I say, skeptical.
"Come on, it's a win-win. You're in need of an outlet, and you'd be easing my curiosity. So what's the damage?"
"I'm just-" Is he really that persuasive or am I just that drunk?- "Tired."
"And...?" he motions with his hand for me to keep going.
"And...maybe a little mad."
"Because...?" he looks at me expectantly.
I sigh heavily and when I speak my voice comes out hoarse and sounding like a shameful whisper. "Because I'm fucking sick of feeling invisible."
"Okay," Noah says, his tone unusually bright for the turn this conversation has taken. "We're getting there. Keep going." He encourages and I have to admit it's a little bit adorable.
"I'm mad because I can't help but get nervous, and be awkward, and make everything uncomfortable for myself and everyone involved. All. The. Time."
"You're not being awkward right now." He offers as a consolation. "And I'm not uncomfortable in the slightest."
"I'm heavily intoxicated," I state, "You are heavily intoxicated."
"Don't get sidetracked," he points an accusatory finger at me, and in my drunken stupor, the thought of biting it crosses my mind. I decide not to act on it. "What's really bothering you? What do you want?"
I push off the couch with a huff and start pacing. What do I want? Why am I even having this conversation with him? I should leave. Right now. Before I say something stupid and make a fool out of myself again. But there's a burning sensation spreading in my chest, clawing its way up my throat, and I can't stop it. Word vomit.
"I just want to be seen, you know? For once. Even if it's just for a moment." The connection between my mouth and my brain has been severed, and the words are spilling out of me before I can stop them. "That's all I want. Just for one moment, I want to feel like the pretty one, like I'm hot and like I'm worth something. Is that stupid? Is that too much to ask?" I turn to him as he stands up, I'm guessing to leave because I probably look even crazier than I sound.
Instead, he stands opposite me, his eyes soft and a little red. "I don't think it's stupid," he says, putting his hands in his pockets. "The thing is, you could very easily get all of that if you'd let yourself have it. You're underestimating yourself quite a bit, it appears," I'm guessing I must look puzzled because he explains himself. "I told you I noticed when you came in, did I not?"
"I-Uhm." Here is the awkwardness quota I haven't yet filled in the course of this conversation. I was almost starting to miss the familiarity of it. Regardless, he laughs. It's a breathy thing and it smells like mint. It makes me aware of how close he's standing.
"It was a compliment," he offers me a soft smile, "I take it you don't know how to take one?"
"Not really, no. They're a rare occurrence," I admit.
"That's a shame," he says, tucking a piece of my hair back. His fingers graze my ear as he does and I almost shiver at the touch. "But an issue that can be fixed quite easily." I once again struggle to find my words but there's no need since he speaks again. "You keep distracting me. Let's get back to what you want," He takes a step closer, his eyes looking out the window behind me before focusing back on my face a beat later. "Is it his attention?"
I look down, ashamed to admit it. "Yes," I say, defeated. "I just don't know wha-" he cuts me off before I can finish my sentence, using a finger to tilt my chin up and pressing his mouth to mine.
As our lips collide the air around us is still, as am I, and all the noise from the party seems to be drowned out. His hands cup my face as he kisses me slowly, and when I finally snap out of my shock mine tentatively travel up to his soft hair. His thumb brushes over the skin on my cheek and the world seems to stop as if to allow me to bask in the pleasure of his touch. My skin burns in the places that it meets with his and he pulls me closer as he, ever so gently, bites my lower lip.
"This okay?" he asks against my mouth. I can't form a coherent sentence at the moment, so what leaves my mouth is a sound of encouragement that's a cross between a hum and a moan. For further confirmation that this is, in fact, very much okay, I open my mouth slightly and push my tongue past his parted lips. I tug at his hair and he sighs deeply before picking me up and starting towards the couch. I instinctively wrap my legs around him as he sits down, and I find myself straddling his lap. I push his shoulders back so that his back lays against the couch and I deepen the kiss, feeling like I can't get him close enough. His hands mess up my hair before sliding down to rest on my hips, making me shiver as he chuckles lowly. I'm lost in him when I suddenly realize we're right next to a window, in full view of everyone outside, so I slowly, and reluctantly, pull away from him. We stay in place, breathing heavily with our faces inches apart from each other as he continues to stroke my cheek with his thumb.
"Feel hot now?" He rasps, holding my gaze for a beat before looking out the window. Before I can try to figure out a reply, his lips are brushing against my ear and he adds in a spine-tingling whisper, "You're welcome, by the way."
I turn to see Mason staring at us through the glass. I open my mouth, still trying to figure out how to react, but before I can say anything I hear the sliding door that leads to the backyard open. Hurriedly getting off Noah's lap, I turn just in time to see Sydney stumbling into the house in a fit of giggles.
"Maddieeee!" she slurs, "There you are, I've been looking everywhere for you! I came in to take a piss, but I'm so glad I finally found you!" She glances between Noah and me, still sitting close to each other, and her eyes widen. "Ohhhh, I see what's going on here." She says with a wide grin, and with that, I stand up and rush to drag her away before this gets even more awkward. "Good for you girl, he's HOT!" She thinks she's whispering but I can hear Noah's rumbling laugh coming from behind us.
Hurriedly, I push her towards the bathroom, and before I go in I steal one last glance at him, still sitting in place with a pleased smirk plastered on his face. I'd love to say that I returned his energy with something like a sultry smile, or a daring wink. But, yeah. That didn't happen. I panicked. And I shut the door in his face.
While Syd does her thing, I rant about the night's events, and despite being highly intoxicated she listens attentively. After washing her hands she grabs me by the shoulders looking me dead in the eyes.
"Listen to me Mads, and pay very close attention because I'm only going to say this once, okay?" She seems to have quickly sobered up because she has her serious face on and is speaking with long pauses, which means she's in lecture mode. I nod my head and she goes on, "Mason is not worth it. I know you can't see it because you really like him, but from what I've gathered over the years, he doesn't seem like a good guy to me. He's cocky, attention-seeking, and all he seems to really care about is being seen as the top dog, and getting into as many girls' pants as he can. If he can't see how amazing and ridiculously beautiful you are, then it's his loss, because there are many other guys out there who will. Don't let him get you down or make you doubt your worth. That guy does not deserve your tears."
I nod slowly as she speaks and when she's done I sigh shaking my head as she brings me into a tight hug "How is it you always know exactly what to say?" I ask, my voice muffled as my cheek presses flat against her chest.
"Being an expert in all things Maddison Sterling is just one of my many talents," she boasts, running her delicate fingers through my hair.
"Thank you, I really needed that." I say, "I love you."
"I love you too, Mads," She nuzzles her head into my shoulder and rubs my back.
We pull away from each other and come out of the bathroom. "I think I've had about enough partying for an entire millennium, can we go home? You guys can stay at my place." I offer.
"Sure, I'll go get Ty," she says, starting towards the back door.
"Meet me in the kitchen when you find him, I think I left his jacket in there."
"Okay!" she replies as she heads out.
I shuffle through empty bottles, tossed around cups, and questionable stains on the kitchen counter, searching for Ty's jacket but I can't find it anywhere.
"Looking for something?" I hear a deep voice say from behind me.
"Yeah, I can't find my jacket. I swear I left it right here!" I say exasperatedly as I turn around, coming face to face with Mason.
"Let me help you then," His eyes are heavy and bloodshot, and his speech is slow and dragged. He's clearly wasted.
"That's okay, I think I might've left it in the living room. Let me just-" I try to squeeze past him, but he grabs my wrist and pulls me back, caging me against the counter with his arms at my sides in one swift move.
He smirks, leaning into me, "I think you should let me help you," his boozy breath is fanning my face and suddenly his hand is sliding up my thigh and inching up the hem of my dress.
"What the fuck?" I forcefully push him away from me, which doesn't require much effort since he seems barely capable of keeping himself upright.
"Sorry princess," he staggers backward with his hand raised his in surrender, "I just thought-"
"Hey, Mads?" I look past Mason to see Noah heading towards me with Tyler's jacket in hand, his dimpled smile so contagious it manages to spread onto my own expression. Mason backs out of my personal space but doesn't leave the kitchen, as Noah comes up to me and hands me the jacket. "I put it in my room so it wouldn't get stained in here," he says with a crooked smile.
"Oh, thank you," I reply, surprised, "That was...oddly considerate of you."
"Host duties." he shrugs, and I swear the faintest blush coats his cheeks a lovely shade of pink that I think might just be my new favorite color. "Anyway, I hope you had fun," he says, bending down to kiss my cheek. As he's pulling back he stops at my ear to whisper "Worked like a charm," in a voice that sends shivers down my spine. I can feel my cheeks heating up as he starts backing away "I'll see you on Monday," he winks, smirking at me with his perfect white teeth. "You too man," he directs that to Mason.
"Yeah, see you," Mason says, bitterness taking over his tone as he watches Noah leave the room.
I must admit seeing him affected feels pretty good at the moment. Sure, I've made my feelings for him pretty apparent, and under other circumstances, I probably wouldn't have minded his advances. But drunkenly trying to reach your hands up my dress is not the way to make a move. Not to mention the fact that I just had my tongue in his friend's mouth.
Also, consent dude. I mentally go over our exchange looking for anything I might have said or done that could have conveyed the message "please feel me up in this dirty kitchen." I come up with nothing.
Sydney comes into the kitchen with Tyler trailing behind her. "Ready?"
"Yeah," I put the jacket on and push past Mason, ever so lightly bumping against his shoulder. "Later Mason." I look back at him with a smile and wave my fingers, feeling pretty pleased with myself. I ride that wave of self-satisfaction all the way to the passenger's seat of Ty's car.
"So? Did you girls have fun?" he asks, looking back with his arm resting on the back of my seat as he pulls out of the driveway.
"The most," Syd replies.
"Yeah, strangely, I did," I say, surprising even myself. I could've done without that last part of the night, though.
"See? I told you. Who was right?" he holds his hand up to his right ear, leaning towards me.
I roll my eyes. "You."
"Who?"
"You, Tyler."
"Tyler who?"
I sigh "Tyler, the best guy on the planet, who is always right and whom I love the most in the entire world."
"That's right." he boasts.
"Are you happy now?" I laugh at his antics.
He eyes me with a smile before turning his gaze back toward the road, "Very."