HE PASSED OFF on taking any other mind-altering substances, but it didn't take long for the coke to take effect, leaving his skin tingly as he clenched his jaw and caught his first in-person Gossip Girlesque glimpse of a world of youth, glamour, and decadence. It felt like heaven to Wyatt.
They spoke, the easy ambience of the evening lending a sense of intimacy to their words so that it was like he had always been a part of this coveted little clique.
Wyatt knew now, for example, that Harlan was taking some time away from school for some mysterious reason that he refused to delve into (though going from the fact that he had just flown in from LA, Wyatt was willing to bet his left testicle that it had something to do with an audition)âjust as he knew that Elina, Hassan and Bella were on midterm break from the prestigious prep school they went to in DC.
In return, he'd told them about the incident at Rashad's house, a story that by the time he was finished telling, had them all wheezing with laughter, and in Bella's case, crying.
He chose to take that as further testament to the fact that he was not, in fact, crazy.
Someone had suggested they join the rest of the party, and so now Wyatt stood, doing an awkward half-dance half-shuffle alone by the edge of the backyard pool, and not too far away from him stood Bella.
She had her hands thrown of the shoulders of a thin slip of a girl that he hadn't really noticed until that moment, who had pulled her hair from its messy bun so that it trailed down her back in a curtain of magnificent auburn as they kissed like they had just one moment longer to live.
"Get a room!" Elina's voice came crowing over the music, and Bella flipped the finger, continuing on business as usual.
It was hard to look away from, this display evident hunger, but finally Wyatt pulled his eyes away from the pair and turned them to his ever rippling reflection in the lit up waters of the pool.
He forced a smile and watched the reflection mirror the movement of his mouth, tried to convince himself that he was happy, content and entirely in his element, but the drugs in his system instead of pushing him completely beyond a point past reason were making him entirely too self-aware.
For a second he considered jumping in fully clothed to distract himself and escape from the feeling, but then a different song came on and he stiffened when he felt arms rope in around his stomach.
When he turned to find it was Harlan, Wyatt wondered if this wasn't an episode of lucid dreaming. He'd heard that coke caused nightmares, but if anything this was far from one, and after a moment he let himself relax.
The older boy had given in at one point, taking a pastel pink pill that Bella pressed into his palm, and now with his dark mussed hair and twinkling eyes, he appeared like some kind of wicked fae creature come to lead Wyatt to his ruination.
"Dance with me," Wyatt said, turning so they faced themselves after a short while had passed.
His voice felt disembodied from him, and he wondered if this was what it felt like to have an out-of-body experience. Harlan gave a low chuckle.
"You don't want that," he said, leaning over so he whispered into Wyatt's ear. "I'm terrible at dancing."
His brief flirt with melancholy forgotten, Wyatt shrugged, letting a small smile tug at the corners of his lips. He lowered his lashes flirtatiously.
"Then it's a good thing I'm good enough for the both of us."
Harlan may have been a boy with hundreds of thousands of adoring followers at his beck and call, but at the end of the day he was just a boyâand there was no language, absolutely none, that Wyatt had mastered more.
He began with small movements, the awkward shuffle from earlier falling away as he gave himself over to the music like he was an entirely different person. This was dance, he reminded himself, and from whatever angle you considered it he came from a culture defined by its love of the art form among many other things.
Wyatt may have spoken hardly a lick of Spanish, but on the dance floor he became a different sort of beast entirely. He knew this.
"Just one song," he whispered, taking a bold step forward as he pulled his fingers through the loops of Harlan Petrova's jeans and drew him closer.
He felt the other boy shiver slightly, and knew he had won.
Another thing that pop culture did not prepare you for was what to do if you found yourself dancing with your idol. It taught dating and drunk-texting, yes, but never dancing.
It was an easy thing to get a reluctant partner to dance with you, but as the evening wore on Wyatt felt himself begin to lose all sense of coordination till everything seemed scrambled around the edges and at one point it became a matter of simply letting go and trusting that he wouldn't fuck himself over.
He leaned into the taller boy when the beat dropped; the singer's falsetto artfully weaving itself through the both of them as Wyatt let his fingers play around the nape of Harlan's neck and they pressed up fully against themselves.
Wyatt would've liked to disappear into him, and not for one second did it cross his mind to consider that he'd come with Canyon.
At one point if felt like they were the only two people in the world, and things would've gone on like this were it not for Elina, who appeared like an appropriation beside them, snapping her fingers with a look of faint amusement.
They jumped apart, and she smiled sweetly at her brother.
"Don't stop on my account, brother dearest," she said without a trace of irony. "I insist."
Wyatt blushed, and Harlan cleared his throat, blinking blearily down at his sister.
"You're a menace," he managed, but Elina had already turned her attention away from him and was now looking at Wyatt.
A moment passed before he realized that she was holding out a red solo cup to him. Tentatively he took it, sniffing at its contents.
"It's just water," the youngest Petrova explained, "thought you might need it after the high intensity workout session I and everyone here witnessed."
Harlan swore under his breath, but Wyatt's eyes darted away from hers as he took a big swallow. He hadn't realized he was so thirsty, and it took two more swallows for him to start feeling like himself again.
"Thanks," he sighed gratefully, still refusing to meet her eyes.
"No problem," she said, taking the cup out of his grasp as she took hold of his wrist with her other hand and led him away, completely ignoring Harlan, who gave a disbelieving scoff behind them.
"We're going to play a game," she said, and Wyatt arched a brow.
"A game?" he inquired just to be sure, and Elina nodded.
That was when he realized that she was leading him into the house. Behind them, a bunch of stragglers, including Harlan, strolled leisurely.
Briefly, he wondered how much time had passed and considered asking Canyon to drive him back home, but like sand filtering through a basket this line of thought escaped him and he trod obediently after the hostess.
Moving up a grand flight of stairs with his palms ran smoothly over the polished Oakwood banister, Wyatt found himself vaguely in awe of how Elina managed to totter about in her heels despite being as wasted as he was, if not more.
This was a true testament of her party girl prowess, he decided. Practice made perfect, and no one was touching her it appeared.
When they finally arrived at their destinationâa large room Which Wyatt could've sworn his entire apartment would fit in; with hand painted tiles that not only decorated the floors but the walls too, and chaise lounges scattered aroundâhe found that most of the group from earlier, were already waiting.
Elina stopped him by the doorway, and waited till the group behind them had passed through before turning so they faced themselves.
The look on her face changed from one of warmth to faint disdain in seconds flat as she stared down at him like he were a piece of discarded gum which had found its way down the soles of her Manolos.
"Now listen up you little social climber," she began conversationally, "I really like you, but I can't read your angle and that's a problem. So I'll let the little scene I watched play out earlier slide. Still, if it's anything to do with trying to make Canyon jealous then don't get my brother involved, because crossing me is social suicide and I promise, I will not hesitate to decimate you. Are we clear?"
Wyatt was still blinking, the words not even fully registered, when Elina once more fixed on her amiable smile. It was a transformation which occurred so fast it made him wonder if he had imagined the entire exchange, and when her eyes flickered briefly over his shoulder and he turned to find Canyon leaned against the doorpost, he felt even more unmoored than he had throughout the evening.
What had just happened?
"I hope she isn't scaring you off too much," Canyon teased playfully, through a hard edge lined his usually easy tone.
Scratch that: What was still happening?
"Of course not," Elina cut in easily, entwining her arm through Wyatt's and leading him into the room. "I was just telling him how much fun it was I think we'll have." She turned to him, an expectant tilt to her head. "Wasn't I?"
Wyatt gulped.
Elina announced to cheers that they would be starting off with a game of spin the bottle.
"Of course we won't be using a bottle," she clarified from her place beside Canyon, who Wyatt had caught on more than one occasion since he arrived studying him. "This isn't middle school."
"Okay, so what is it?"
This came from a reed thin brunette who sat an arm's length away from him. It took Wyatt a moment to place herâBlake Montgomery, a senior he followed on Instagram who went to Trinity.
"Well my darlings," Elina said, moving from her sofa and coming to stand in the middle of the room so that every eye was on her. "I wasn't exactly honestâthis will be a game of spin the bottle meets truth or dare, so everyone takes turns either kissing, getting dared, or telling the truth."
She went on to explain that there were a limited number of truths (two per person) and whoever refused their dare had to hand over fifteen hundred dollars to their challenger.
Wyatt's eyes bugged and his jaw went slack. Fifteen hundred what? That would be enough to purchase the pair of Stage Derby Louboutins he had been eyeing for a while now. It was atrocious.
Was this what rich kids spent their time doing, looking for ways to spend their money? Did they just walk around with a thousand bucks in hand just in case?
More importantly: Where the hell was he supposed to cough up fifteen hundred dollars from?
As if she could read his thoughts, Elina's eyes found his and a sly smile settled over her lips.
"Let's begin," she said, and with collective effort they all pulled the couches closer together.
Wyatt hadn't fully grasped the rules of the game by the time he received his first dare. He was the third to go. Going by all indications, getting asked to kiss the stranger (a girl with wide-set green eyes and freckles who'd introduced herself to him as Erica) was pretty tame when you considered the alternative of $1500.
When he mentioned as a disclaimer that he was gay so she wouldn't get the wrong idea, Erica shrugged.
"I'm not trying to fall in love or go to bed with you." Her speech carried slight hints of the Bronx. "We're just gonna make out."
Her lips felt surprisingly soft and she tasted of something sweet with undertones of alcohol.
To his surprise Wyatt found that he didn't at all mind kissing her, and in fact may have continued to do so the others didn't burst into a thunderous round of applause, wolf whistles, and catcalls, reminding him of the fact that they had an audience.
They pulled away and Erica smiled, shooting Wyatt a mischief-filled wink as she returned to her seat and he dazedly returned to his.
After that the game sped up, faces blurring as people kissed themselves, sometimes going even farther; told unvarnished truths (apparently a lot of Upper East Side kids slept with their parents secretaries), and jumped into dares.
Wyatt managed to steer clear of the more sever dares like stripping completely naked, but he didn't go unscathed either, seeing as he'd had to give a lap danceâand things continued on like this until Bella spoke for the first time, daring Canyon to do anything he wanted to her with a wicked glint in her eyes, right then and there, in front of everyone.
The mood turned sober, almost reverential and for a moment he locked gazes with the other boy and felt a surety deep in his bones that nothing would come of this. Canyon would laugh; play off Bella's dare with a chaste kiss since her statement could've meant anything.
He should've known better. After all, this was a group of drop-dead rich teenagers bored out of their minds on a weekend.
Wyatt watched the boy he'd arrived with get out of his chair in slow, sinuous movements which could only have been described as seductive. One minute he stood standing, and in the next he had Bella pinned to the chair, a knee bent over the chair of the sofa to steady himself as he kissed her, delicately at first, and then shit hit the fan.
There were hands under blouses and some straddlingâvirtually the beginnings of a soft-core amateur porno with a title that ran along the lines of 'Teen redhead with big tits gets railed.'
It was a lot to take in, and Wyatt beat back the urge to dip his head into his hands while staring into space as he imagined a series of complex imaginary formulas begin to float around him.
For the third time that evening he found himself asking what the hell was going on.
Wyatt was so deep in his head that he took no notice of when they finally stopped, unaware even of the fact that his name was being called, and startled slightly when Erica leaned forward to rest a hand over his arm.
He blinked, and was surprised to find that every eye was now on himâincluding Canyon, who for the most part appeared slightly flustered and apprehensive.
"Elina dared you to kiss Canyon," the girl explained kindly, and Wyatt's first thought as his head whipped to the direction of his gorgeous challenger, whose face wore a smug smirk, was: This bitch.
"Dude," Canyon said to his best friend after a beat had passed. "It's not even your turn yet."
"It's not that deep, just a little bit of fun," Elina replied, moving to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. There is was again, that word fun, which she wielded like a weapon. "Don't read too much into itâI mean, you're bros, right?"
Wyatt would've liked to tell her to stop flapping her gums, but before he got a chance to Canyon gave a heavy sigh, looking skyward. He was still sat beside Bella, and got up, closing the distance between the both of them in two short strides.
His movements were aggressive, blundering, but when he leaned over and pressed his lips against his, Wyatt felt his eyes automatically.
In the next moment, strong, semi-calloused fingers caressed his face, and he surrendered to a world of sensationâa chapped, soft mouth, a warm tongue, the velveteen feel of smooth skin pulled taunt over powerful muscles which flexed under his hands, and the heady Old Spice scent of Canyon, mixed in the bit of sweat that he'd worked up that evening.
Briefly, Wyatt wondered if this meant he was indirectly kissing Bella, and by extension, the girl he'd watched her make out with earlier, but these thoughts flew out of his mind and he surmised that this was what falling in love felt like: Free-fall.
It was transfiguration, as if with just one kiss and a touch, Canyon Gomez had molded him and sat back to watch Wyatt take shape. But he was seventeen, and things like these often felt like small disasters designed to spin the world out of its axis.
Or maybe that was just the drugs.
The next time Wyatt came to, he found that the room had fallen so silent you could hear a pin drop.
He smiled, sighed and tried to go in for another kiss when he felt a shove so powerful it made his head snap back into the plush leather sofa he was sat in and bounce off it.
The shock of it made a small cry escape from him, and when he looked to find that Canyon's face had gone slightly red with embarrassment, Wyatt knew what would happen next.
"You've got a grip, bro," Canyon said, shooting him a wobbly grin before returning to the seat he'd occupied with Bella. "I kept trying to pull away but you latched on, hard. You could be a pro wrestler or somethingâI'd tap out."
It was a lie of course, he'd given as well as he got, but everyone except him cracked up at Canyon's words, the last comment especially, and Wyatt managed a smile even as he felt the sharp sting of tears rise up unbidden in his eyes.
Elina said something he didn't catch, and the laughter around him turned more uproarious. He looked up to find that Erica had on a slightly pitying expression as she looked at him, and bit down on his lips, taking shallow breaths to center himself in case he decided to lash out and do something stupid now that he'd been made the butt of the joke.
"I'm going out to get some air," he announced to no one in particular once the game picked up again, running his hands over his denims as he stood up. "It's getting kind of stuffy in here."
In truth, he wanted to scream.
"Oh, really," Elina murmured, pausing to give him an opportunity to look at her. She and Hassan alone sat sprawled on a couch like a queen and king presiding over court.
Lazily, her fingers trailed over the arm of her boyfriend, who for the most part ignored this, seemingly more interested in whatever it was on his phone.
"I could turn on the air conditioner if you want," she continued, tilting her head up. "Things were just getting good."
Wyatt said nothing, offering her what he hoped passed for a look of gratitude.
"I also need to use the restroom," he excused, and an expression of genuine sympathy settled over her face.
"Second corridor, third door on your leftâyou can't miss it," Elina said.
"Make it back in one piece."
"Oh," Wyatt said with a forced grin. "I'll do my best."
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n o t e
quick disclaimer: virtually all of this super long update follows a bunch of privileged kids under the influence, which should explain some of the more mercurial turns it took.
with my exams done i found myself in the mood for something gay and came out of my hiatus to work on (and post) this edit + rewrite of the book before nano next month, when i plan to be neck deep in a new manuscript.
while writing i felt this chapter, more than any of the others that have been put up so far, set the tone for wyatt as an unreliable narrator, but that could be just me. let me know what you think, if you've found yourself in a similar situation, and how you handled it.