Chapter 8: It's official, I hate parties

Chapter 8

“Stay here, I’m going to get us something to drink. And please don't go near anyone; the majority of these people are all drunken creeps.” Cyrus ordered as I nodded my head, swaying to the music.

His eyes raked over my dancing body before he smiled. I rolled my eyes at his discreet staring. I saw him escape through the crowd; no one made room for him like they would at school and for some reason that made him all the more… real.

“Hey, there.” A deep voice said from beside me. I glanced over to see a guy standing there, smiling. He was blond and had dark green eyes, a muscular build and chiseled cheekbones.

“Hey.” I replied, grinning. Cyrus never said not to talk to anyone.

“I’m Noah. What’s your name?” He asked me, keeping his eyes on my face.

“I’m Maverly.” I responded, trying to talk louder than the music. It was easy for him to do.

“What’s up?” He asked, smiling, still keeping his eyes on mine. I respected that.

“Nothing, I’m just waiting for my friend to return with drinks, and yourself?” I asked, nodding towards him.

“Nothing, I just want to dance.” He said, nodding. I nodded stupidly.

“So… do you want to dance?” He asked me catching me off guard.

“S-sure!” I said, shocked. He grabbed my hand, it didn't give me sparks, but it was enough to make me grin. He placed his hands on my hips and I placed mine on his shoulders, swaying along with him. The song ‘Best Song Ever’ by The Ready Set boomed through the stereos as we swayed together.

__

Cyrus’s Point of View

I returned to the spot where I left Maverly. I was slightly worried that a guy came and picked her up to get her to an empty bedroom, but then I remember that it’s Maverly- the most stubborn girl ever. You expected me to say because she’s ugly right? Well, she’s not.

What a plot twist; the big mean guy actually calling a girl gorgeous- not that I said that or anything but it’s the truth. She’s stubborn, though and probably would kick a guy in the junk before walking to a bed with him. But some of the guys here have charm that it takes years to attain, and no one can resist. Not that I’m gay- it’s just, you get the idea.

I stopped in my tracks, glancing around nervously. Where is she? She isn’t here, did she wander off? Is she with a guy? That thought sent my muscles into a tense state, I have no idea why.

I looked around until I spotted her familiar hair, curled and brown, but beaut- pretend that didn’t happen. I don’t need another embarrassing moment where I announce her beauty again. I’d already had one too many. You’ll forget about that right? Right.

I looked around her and saw the back of an unfamiliar guy with his hands on her waist. My muscles tensed further. I felt a liquid in my hand and a cracking sound- I broke one of the glasses. I dropped it onto the floor, wiping the soda that happened to be on my hand, on a napkin that I used to carry the sweating cups.

I began ripping through the crowd as I saw his face. I knew who he was and what he does and Maverly isn’t going to be another pawn in his game.

__

Maverly’s Point of View

I laughed as he told a joke and he laughed with me. His smile was magnificent. I found him cute… but friend cute, and maybe a few dates cute- but not boyfriend material. He seemed too… clingy.

“So who are you here with?” He asked, overpowering the sound of the music.

“A friend!” I shouted with a smirk on my face.

“Who?” He asked, glancing over my shoulder every two seconds.

“His name is Cyrus. I don’t know if you know him.” I spoke, dancing along with him.

“Angelo?” He asked, gulping.

“Yeah.” I said, confused.

“I uh, I got to go. I don't feel so well. Bye!” He announced abruptly, backing away.

I turned around to the direction he was looking in prior to his escape. Cyrus stood there, looking ticked off, surrounded by broken glass and a spilled drink. He had a napkin in his hand.  I walked back over to him.

"It looks like someone broke a bottle on your head.” I told him, crinkling my nose as he glared at me.

“What happened to staying right here?” He asked, crossing his arms.

"He asked me to dance, what was I supposed to say? ‘No, a friend of mine demanded I stand right here the whole time he was gone.’” I mocked his voice terribly. His eyes softened at the word friend, but then he continued glaring at the rest of my sentence.

“I was going to get a nonalcoholic drink for the both of us!” He said, pointing to the cup on the floor. He sounded like a concerned parent.

“How’d you break that?” I asked, staring at the broken glass on the floor, my finger pointing at it. My eyes trailed up to his bloody hand.

“Did you- did you crack the cup in your hand? That’s glass!” I said, reaching for his hand. He sighed as I grabbed it and inspected it.

"I didn't realize that." He retorted sarcastically. I ignored him.

“Did you smash the glass in your hand?” I asked again, opening his palm as he winced slightly.

“Yes.” He answered, wincing again.

“Come on, we need to get this cleaned out.” I sighed, grabbing his forearm as I led him to the nearest bathroom.

I flicked the light on, sitting him on the toilet. I opened the cabinets searching for anything that I could use in a situation like this. I found gauze, ace bandages, tweezers, surgical scissors, medical wipes and medical tape. I lay his hand on the counter and saw how upset he looked. I removed the bloody napkin and disposed of it in the trash can.

“I don’t have a pillow that you could bite, sorry.” I said, grinning. He rolled his eyes but let out a small laugh that instantly lifted my mood. I began picking out the visible shards of glass with the tweezers.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” He asked, watching my intricate pattern: pluck, drop into trash, and wipe the tweezers on medical wipe, repeat.

“Yeah, my aunt was a doctor- she often had to take out me and my cousin’s splinters. Plus, my dad and I used to watch ‘ER’.” I admitted, smiling at the old memories. I felt my eyes glaze over and I blinked a few times, dismissing whatever tears that threatened to fall. He let out a sigh of relief.

After I’d gotten all of the glass out, I threw out the dirty wipe and opened a new one.

“This might sting just a bit.” I lied, biting the inside of my cheek nervously. It was going to hurt a lot.

“I’m ready.” He spoke as I held his wrist down. I slowly but gently wiped the bloody area with the medical wipe. He hissed in pain a bit before calming down. “What happened to it hurting ‘just a bit’?” He mocked me and I snorted at his terrible impersonation.

When it was all cleaned, I placed gauze atop of it, and gently wrapped it in ace bandages and when I had enough; I cut it with the scissors, holding it together with the medical tape. I disposed of the used objects and placed the others in the cabinets where I’d found them.

“Thanks, Doc.” Cyrus said, wriggling his fingers, brushing them against mine that rested against the counter. I quickly moved them.

“It was no problem, just don’t break anymore glass. Besides, it shouldn’t leave a scar- so you won’t have anything to remember me by,” I teased. He groaned, annoyed.

"Can I ask you something?” I shifted on my feet.

“You just did.” He said, smirking.

“Another thing.” I repeated. He nodded, washing his other hand off in the sink.

“Why’d you break the glass? And why did that guy run away when I told him I was with you? Not with you in a relationship way. I mean in you, I mean with you, I totally didn't mean in you, that's gross-.” I stuttered, sitting on the sink counter. He looked at me amused before he let out a sigh.

“Maybe because you were in me, I’m kidding. I don’t know, but promise me one thing.” He told me with a smirk before he turned, facing me. I sighed.

“I already did and so far, it’s not going good.” I said, crossing my arms playfully.

“This one will be much more pleasant.” He joked like a pervert. I scowled.

“What is it?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Stick by me all night. And if someone asks you to dance,” He gritted his teeth. “Tell me who they are and don’t run off with them, and if they try to drag you… just yell my name, okay?” He spoke.

I smirked at the obvious innuendo at the end. He realized this and looked somewhat shocked at how I realized it before him. And to answer his question, I nodded.

"You're such a pervert." He scolded with a smile.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah; well it depends on what you do all night, because if you go into a room with some blonde bimbo I’m not going to stick around to hear you guys-.” I began.

“I’m not going to go into a room with a ‘blonde bimbo.’ If anything it’ll be a brown bimbo.” He said, flicking my hair. I scowled at him.

“Yeah right.” I said sarcastically, jumping down from the counter.

“Yeah, right.” He said mimicking my sarcasm.

“You’re not funny.” I stated, following him as he began walking towards the door.

“You seem to laugh at my jokes a lot.” He said, grabbing my hand, leading me from the bathroom.

__

Any onlooker would have the wrong idea, but Cyrus didn’t care. He only grabbed my hand tighter, as he led me to a garage like area.

“Where are we going?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows.

“To play a game.” He replied, not even looking back at me as he made way through the crowds of people. His answer reminded me of Triple H's theme song.

“What game?” I asked, suddenly suspicious and scared. He tightened his grip on my hand as we passed a crowd of drunken teenage boys.

“A game.” He said, irritated as he looked at the boys with a glare.

“Calm down.” I assured, snorting lightly.

___

“Cyrus!” A guy who looked around 18 or 19 spoke, grinning as he shook hands with Cyrus.

"Adrian.” Cyrus said, shaking hands with, I’m guessing, Adrian. I looked towards the floor, awkwardly.

“Oh, Adrian, this is Maverly.” He said, motioning to me. Adrian looked at me, making me feel uncomfortable. I’m guessing Cyrus sensed this, as he stepped in front of Adrian- who was now staring awkwardly at Cyrus’s legs- which happened to be in the same place mine were previously.

“When is the next game?” Cyrus asked, still holding onto my hand. The guy glanced at his watch, which was tightly wrapped onto his wrist.

“About 10 minutes. You might want to tell her the instructions; we wouldn’t want someone who can’t play to end up getting hurt. Besides, she looks like a lightweight.” Adrian spoke. Cyrus nodded, rolling his eyes at Adrian, who walked off to a large couch where several people sat.

“Don’t mind him, he’s not always nice.” Cyrus said, smirking. I shrugged. I knew I didn’t like that guy but I didn’t care. I just needed to know what this game was.

“Yeah, I've noticed. Anyway, what's the game?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. Cyrus chuckled at my impatience.

“The game has no name directly, but someone says something, like a statement, and you have to tell a story that has something to do with that statement.” He said, terribly explaining it.

“You’re terrible at explanations.” I informed him.

“Okay, so, for example.  Say the person said: ‘My dog died.’ And you reply with ‘When I was 8, my grandmother went out to her bingo game and came back in an angry state, and lashed out, running over my dog In the process. She then placed him into a plastic bag and put him on the side of the rode.’ You see? It has to be amusing, embarrassing, funny, weird…” He spoke, making a sideways tornado with his hands. I nodded my head. He still looked nervous.

“What’s the catch?” I asked, crossing my arms. He shouldn’t look surprised that I figured it out so soon.

“If they don’t find it funny, amusing, embarrassing, or weird… you have to take a shot.” He said, sighing.

“Of?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows together. I wasn’t exactly a drinker.

“Whatever strong product they have.” He said, biting his lip nervously.

“What do they have today?” I asked, tightening my arms across my chest.

“Tequila, Jack Daniels, Rum…” He trailed, I stared at him horrified.

“I don’t want to play, then.” I said, shaking my head nervously. Why would he sign me up for this! I don’t even lift!

“Too late, I’ve already told them you’re playing and you can’t just drop out.” He educated me.

“But If you haven’t noticed I’m not any of the things I need to be in order to stay sober! I’m also not a heavy drinker.” I told him.

“Trust me, you’re plenty funny. You amuse me all the time. You tend to embarrass yourself and you’re weird in the process.” He said, pushing me towards the gathered people.

___

The bottle was spinning in the middle of us, because no one wanted to go first by choice… punks.

Whoever the bottom of the bottle points to, they say the statement, and whoever has the mouth of the bottle pointed at them, tells the story. Adrian was telling the story. The sentence was ‘I got detention.’ Pretty clean, so far.

“So I was in the parking lot, drinking a beer, and some stupid teacher comes out and sees me. She walked over to me and tells me to throw it out and that I’m getting a detention. So you know what I did? I broke the bottle on her head when she turned back to walk into the school. Then I showed up for detention, which she was teaching with a busted lip, and a swollen eye.” Adrian bragged.

The laughter that was sounded was more nervous laughter than ‘that’s funny’ laughter. I know I was afraid I’d get hit in the head with a bottle if I turn away. He winked at me and I scowled at him automatically. It was a reflex I had from Cyrus! I didn’t really mean it. He didn’t seem to like that and he glared at me.

Adrian spun the bottle after saying the next statement: The person on my left is. So this time, we had to tell a story about a time we spent with the person on our left. Luckily, the person on my left is Adrian so I’d just talk about tonight or something. The bottle landed on Adrian, and the girl to his left was a brunette who was now smirking. He glanced at me and swallowed. Why was he nervous? I caught sight of Adrian who was smirked at me.

“I was at a party, I wasn’t drinking but she was. She wasn’t so drunk, but drunk enough to crash a car if she tried to drive. I didn’t know her that well; I’d met her a week before. I decided that I’d drive her home; at least she’d get home safely. At her house, she invited me in because her parents weren’t home.” He started, glancing at me before continuing. I knew where this story was going. I glanced at the girl, who was watching me with a smug look on her face. Did she want to hurt me?

“And when we woke up after, her parents cars were in the drive way and I had to jump out the window in nothing but my boxers, drive home, and then sneak in my window without being seen by my parents.” He finished, glancing at me as he continued. I’d kept my face emotionless, like my usual look, uncaring when in all reality- my insides felt like they’d been smashed with bricks.

‘I’d been hurt by someone who I care about.’ The bottle landed on me, with this statement. How coincidental? I thought about a time that would’ve classified as funny, embarrassing, amusing, or weird. I came up with nothing, and the few that I did come up with had ended in me crying or being emotionless, or running away from my problems.

“You can pass y’know.” A blonde girl said, with an irritated expression.

“She can always talk about how she got hurt just now!” The brunette girl to the left of Cyrus said and he glared at her.

“If you pass, you’d have to drink two shots.” Adrian piped in, with an amused expression. So that’s what I did. I passed and was handed a shot glass that they excitedly filled.

Cyrus had a nervous expression laced with pain on his face. I gulped it down quickly, as it burned my throat. They filled it again, and I drank it- my throat burning once more. A few moments later, I’d felt numb…and it felt good. I never did drink before, and I don’t know why. It was amazing. My vision began to blur. The bottle landed on me again. ‘A terrible ex.’ Humph, how perfect?

“I never went to parties, like ever. I would just sit at home and chill out. But this one time, my friends dragged me to an out of town party, they said there would be hot guys there who had abs- and boy, do I love abs?” I drunkenly slurred. A few people laughed and some girls nodded in agreement.

“But my boyfriend was there; he loved parties but usually stayed close. He told me he was having an outing with family,” I laughed dryly. “I wasn’t looking to cheat on my boyfriend, no I wasn’t, and I loved him, a lot. I just wanted to dance and get out of the house, and this was an opportunity. So, I walked into the party, and it was terrible. There were drunken people everywhere, girls running around in little triangles of clothing. It smelled gross, too; like, like vomit and stale liquor. I was trying to find a place to go and be alone, so I wouldn’t have to deal with guys walking up to me every five seconds asking ‘how much I charge for a round?’.” I mused, snorting stupidly. I heard Adrian make a slick comment and I glared at him.

“So I slipped upstairs, and it was still loud, but not as loud. People kept looking at me like I was crazy and they were avoiding me like the plague. I noticed a few guilty expressions, too. I opened a door, and the room was dark. So I flipped on the lights, and whoop-di-doo. What do you know? There was my boyfriend, making out with a girl, at least I tell myself he was only making out with her. Heck, they were nearly mauling each other, one was on top of the other. I don’t know what they could’ve been doing. But the worst part? They’d been doing that for months, behind my back, and even worse? He told me he hated me. Not once, but twice. And the worst part of it all? One of my best friends knew and was sitting right there, laughing.” I ended.

I felt myself struggle to breath and a lump form in my throat. A few guys laughed, Adrian being one of them and a few girls looked at me sympathetically. But what was a word in sympathetically? Pathetic. I didn’t want their understanding and kindness.

“I have to uh… use the ladies room.” I announced, standing up, and walking surprisingly straight and steady to the door that led to the hallway. I’m surprised Adrian didn’t throw a bottle at the back of my head. I ignored the footsteps that sounded dully behind me.

I found my way, through the crowd, to the bathroom. I slipped inside, slumping against the door and breathing heavily. I gulped audibly. I felt the lump in my throat rising. I bit my bottom lip to stop from crying. Is that the only reason that Cyrus stuck around? Because he just wanted to sleep with me? He only knew me for a week, he brought me to a game that required you to be funny, which he knows I’m not, and he’s my ride home. Someone pounded their fist on the door, startling me.

“OCUPADO!” I shouted, with my back to the door. I heard a light laugh from outside of the door. They knocked again.

“Do you not watch Dora or are you just stupid? This bathroom is occupied.” I sniffled, pressing my back against the door.

“I know, let me in.” A familiar voice sounded from the outside.

“No!” I replied, loudly. The word came out, partly slurred as he chuckled again. I felt a sob rising in my throat. I tried to muffle it, but it was too late. I sobbed, and it was loud.

“Are you crying?” He asked, knocking lightly.Deja Vu.

“Don’t pretend like you care.” I replied wiping my eyes with my arm.

“I’m not pretending.” He said.

“If you cared you wouldn’t have dragged me to this party.” I replied.

“I wanted you to have fun. I didn’t expect Adrian to be that much of a jerk to you. I didn’t expect getting that statement to reply to. I didn’t expect Noah to hit on you. I just didn’t want the night to end after dinner.” He explained. But my drunken brain only heard one thing.

“Oh, so what? Now you’re calling me ugly?” I slurred.

“No I’m not! I meant that I didn’t know he was going to be here.” He replied quickly.

“Then why didn’t you say that?” I inquired, leaning my head against the cold hardwood of the cabinets.

“I don’t know! I just… I don’t know.” He replied.

“Where are we?” I asked, taking out my phone.

“Why?” He asked, concern filling his voice.

‘Cabn you comr pivl ne ip?’ I sent, my fingers sliding crazily across the screen of my phone. I wanted to know if Christy can come pick me up.

‘Can I pick you up?’ She sent back, almost immediately.

‘Yed.’ I replied, stupidly.

“Because I’m having my friend come get me.” I retorted to Cyrus.

“I’ll bring you home.” He told me.

“So you could come into my house and try and get with me? No thank you.” I slurred.

“Is that what this is about? If it is, I swear- it’s not like that! It’s not like that!” He replied.

‘Where are you?’ Christy replied.

“Just tell me where I am!” I yelled at him.

“No. I need to explain.” He told me.

“Fine, I’m about to Google Maps this b-.” I started to say.

“9854 Reverends Avenue.” He said, defeated.

‘9854 Revwnds Amevue.’ I sent to Christy, hoping she got the idea.

‘9854 Reverends Avenue?’ She asked, replying back quickly.

‘Yup.’ I sent actual English.

I felt my stomach lurch and I immediately was thankful that I was in the bathroom. I crawled over to the toilet and dumped my guts into the porcelain beauty. I vomited twice in the matter of 5 minutes. My stomach felt empty so I stood up and washed my hands.

"Are you okay?" His voice was concerned.

“Now leave, so I can leave.” I demanded.

“No.” Cyrus stated.

"Did you just say no?” I asked angrily.

“Yes.” He replied.

“I swear to gosh Cyrus; if you don’t leave I will cut you.” I threatened.

“Will you now?” He snorted, sounding amused at my threat.

“I’ll jump out of this window then.” I said, standing up, my heels causing me to lose my balance slightly.

“But it’s on the third floor.” He warned.

“You think that’s stopping me? I’m partially drunk and stupid, and angry.” I said, crossing my arms.

“You’re just naturally stupid. I’m kidding, but it doesn’t make you suicidal.” He stated.

“You don’t know me; I could be cutting myself this very moment.” I said, glancing at my fading scars. It was a long travel to get away from that, to actually stop. It took a lot of counseling as well.

“You’re not though, right?” He asked, sounding panicked.

"No, nobody makes me bleed my own blood! But in all seriousness, can you leave though?” I asked, laying my head on the floor as I sat down. I quoted some stupid movie. I was getting loopy. He laughed lightly before he replied.

“No, someone will take advantage of your drunken state.” He confirmed. I snorted.

“I may not be that drunk. Why do you use such big words?” I asked, closing my eyes.

‘I’m here.’ Christy texted me and I sighed thankfully, my savior.

“They aren’t big words; you know them when you’re sober.” He said, laughing.

“Can you please just leave? She’s here.” I spoke softly.

“How about I walk beside you, but I won’t talk?” He offered. I weighed my options. I unlocked the door, standing up. I stepped out of the bathroom, fixing my hair.

We walked through the house, walking down the stairs, where I clung to the railing for dear life, refusing help from Cyrus. When I reached the exit, I waved him off when Christy’s car came into view, but he continued following me.

“Get in the car.” She said, stepping out of the car. I followed her directions, not because she told me to- because I wanted to. I saw Christy talking to Cyrus, who was bouncing up and down on the heels of his feet. His back was to me as Christy’s face was red in anger. She pointed towards me and then raised her hands and dropped them, flustered. Cyrus bowed his head; I wonder what they were talking about. When Cyrus finally was dismissed, Christy stomped towards the car.

“What were you talking about?” I asked Christy.

“Nothing, go to sleep. Your mom is expecting you home now.” Christy said, and I did what she said, because I wanted to and needed to.