Page 83 of Aria

Um… babysitter?

Outrage burned me. I couldn’t help the queasy flutter in my stomach, or the rush of anger that made my skin flush.

Responding with a tight-lipped smile, I looked sharply at Noah. “Right. I feel honored to be his… babysitter.”

Noah’s face flashed with guilt as he turned and guided Beth out of the kitchen. My heart was racing, fists clenched at my sides.

“She is muy bonita.” Rosa glanced over to where Noah and Beth had been standing. “Very pretty.”

I shrugged, feigning indifference, before changing the subject. “Do you think these will be enough brownies?”

Rosa smiled. “Si. Now, go enjoy the party. You help too much.”

“Chelsie?”

My head shot up at the familiar sound of my name.

Devon.

“Pardon me, Rosa.” I darted out of the kitchen and into the living room, coming face-to-face with Tad and Devon. “Devon, you look…”

Awful. Terrible.

Drunk?

When I approached him, I didn’t smell any remnants of alcohol.Was he sick?

“I made it,” Devon grinned, his eyes glazed and bloodshot. He raised a victorious arm in the air, his balance teetering, and his hair looking like it hadn’t been combed in a week.

“Devon, what happened? Where were you? We were worried…”

“Just having a little fun, eh, Tad?” he fidgeted.

Tad stuffed his hands into his pockets, rocking back and forth between both feet. He also looked disheveled.

I stepped closer to the two men, my stance guarded. “Are you… on drugs?”

Devon burst out laughing. “You’re the only drug I need, baby,” he said, bending down and scooping me up. He spun me in a clumsy circle as I pushed back at his chest.

“Devon, put me down. You’re making a scene.”

Noah and Beth appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “You’re alive.” Noah’s irritated tone morphed into anger as he moved forward, squinting at Devon. “Whoa, are you strung out?”

Devon set me down, almost dropping me to the floor. I smoothed out my blouse and crossed my arms over my chest, shocked by the display. I had never known Devon to abuse drugs. I’d been concerned about his increased drinking habits, but drugs had never crossed my mind.

Devon stepped over to one of the food tables and grabbed a large handful of potato chips. He shoved them into his mouth, dispersing crumbs all over the floor. Guests began to quiet their conversations to take in the scene.

“You’ve got to go,” Noah ordered, grabbing his front man by the arm. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Devon yanked himself free with a dismissive huff. “I’m here for the party, bro. You invited me, remember?”

“Go home and fucking sleep it off. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Tad nodded his head, signaling Devon to follow.

Devon sniffed. “Whatever, dude. Fuck this shit.”

“Devon, what is going on?” I intervened, equally stunned and hurt.

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