Page 30 of Bad Kind of Love

CHAPTER EIGHT

Becca

I decided to leave my car at the school and after the party, Josie would drop me off. Riding shotgun, Wes is stuck in the back, but is sitting in the middle. Every now and then I glance up at the rearview mirror, observing him. His legs were spread wide, while his arms were resting behind each headrest. He looked to be deep in thought, never straying his eyes from the window. Whatever it was seemed to be bugging him.

The rest of the ride was quiet, until we pulled up to a house that had cars lined up and down the block.

“Holy shit.” Josie mumbles, staring in awe at all the cars. As we passed the house, you could see people scattered throughout his yard. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Wes lean forward peering out the windshield. “Why are there so many people?” She groans.

The sick feeling in my stomach was already starting and we weren’t even inside the house yet…

“You ever been to a party before?” Wes chuckles.

“Of course!” She says like she’s offended he would even ask. “Becca and I are like total party people.”

Rolling my eyes, I can’t help but giggle at her lie.

“Quit laughing and help me find a parking spot!” She barks.

About ten minutes later, we’re pulling ourselves out of the car and onto the sidewalk across from Nate’s house.

“Thanks for parking.” Josie smiles embarrassed while grabbing her keys from Wes.

Josie was a shitty driver plain and simple. Or should I say, shitty at parking. She’s hit four parked cars since she got her driver’s license and she didn’t want to chance it again with parallel parking. Luckily Wes was with us and offered to help.

“No problem.” He smiles back, but catches my eyes.

Remembering the little deal we made about only being friends at work, I avert my eyes and start walking towards the house. Josie catches up with me while Wes trails from behind.

Crossing the street, we start marching up the sidewalk that leads up to Nate’s house and all you can hear is music blaring.

Drake, if I’m correct.

His house reminded me of Josie’s. Large, extravagant, and worth more than my life.

The loud thumping of the bass vibrates the ground, sending shockwaves up my legs and through my back. “You sure you want to go in there?” I ask, secretly hoping she changes her mind so we can go back home and be hermits.

It takes her a moment to respond, but she confidently nods her head. “Yea, let’s go.”

Sighing, I follow her up the front porch that’s covered in people standing around with solo cups in their hands. They didn't take notice of us but the minute we step foot inside the house, there was no turning back.

The words of Drake flowed throughout the house, making it nearly impossible to hear your own thoughts, much less people talking. Feeling a body lightly brush up against my back has me tense, but when I twist my head, I notice it's Wes and feel somewhat relieved that it’s him and not some perv. He peers down at me, nodding his head towards the inside of the house. Confused, I finally realize I'd stopped just in front of the door and was blocking it. Taking a few more steps into the house, I stand beside Josie who’s taking it all in with wide eyes.

“You guys want anything to drink?” Wes shouts pointing to the kitchen. Glancing over, I see an array of choices on the table. Vodka, beer, wine, whiskey, rum, literally anything you could imagine, it was there.

“Beer’s fine.” Josie answers while I shake my head.

Wes saunters away catching the eyes of girls who were leaned up against the wall chatting. By their grins and over the top giggles, they liked what they saw.

“I wonder where Nate is.” Josie leans in close to my ear.

We both peer around the room, checking for familiar faces. It would be almost impossible to make him out with all these people around.

Wes comes back with two beers in hand and gives one to Josie. We stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to do or where to go and for some reason, Wes stays beside us.

“You don’t have to stand here.” I try to get his attention.

“I don’t mind.” He shrugs, knocking back his can of bud light. My gaze is fixated on his neck, watching his throat muscles contract as he swallows the liquid.

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