Page 24 of The Weekend Getaway

Mia

Mia didn’t want to go to the party, but Alex insisted.

They had to be there. It promised to be an epic bash people would be talking about for weeks. ThePhiltastic Philapalooza. Mia thought it was cringe and corny, creating a name for your party like it was a music festival or something. Like it was some sought-after, once-in-a-lifetime event people were clamoring to attend.

Everyone was coming.

Everyone meaning, to Alex, at least, the people who mattered—rich, privileged kids from powerful families. Usually, they ignored Alex, refusing to allow him into their circles and confidence, but at the party, he’d have access and proximity to guys he wanted to be like, guys he wished hewas, guys who didn’t think he was good enough and wouldn’t accept him. Assholes like the party’s organizer and host, the “Phil” inPhiltastic Philapalooza—Phillip Richart.

Alex had been invited to the party, which in his own estimation was important, setting him apart from the commoners, or the hoi polloi, he normally found himself part of. The invitation made Alex feel special, and he took the opportunity to act as though he’d expected the invite, which couldn’t be further from the truth. Their friends, specifically Alex’s best friends Jason and Chris, thought Alex and Phil were friends. The truth, which Mia had been threatened not to divulge, was that Alex had been invited because he wrote term papers for Phil, who couldn’t be bothered and wasn’t interested in the classes he took at Western Baptist University, or as it was unofficially called, with a smirk and an eye roll,Western Billionaires University.

Now that they were at the party, Mia supposed she had to make the most of it. Had to pretend, for Alex’s sake, to be a good sport. Have a good time. Which she was trying to do, dancing and drinking in a little circle with Grace and Sarah, who she’d invited. If Alex could have his sycophants, Jason and Chris, then Mia could have her support system, Grace and Sarah.

“Here!” Alex yelled in Mia’s face, shoving a shot glass filled with something that looked like piss.

Warning herself not to make a face, Mia took it, kissed Alex, then downed the shot. As expected, it was vile. Of course, she’d never tasted urine but had a feeling it tasted like what she’d just drunk. Grace and Sarah, who’d also taken theshots of piss, didn’t seem too fazed, so Mia knew she couldn’t make a big deal about not liking the drink. Alex would point out that Grace and Sarah liked the shot, and then accuse her of being a wet blanket.

Mia felt like a turd in the punchbowl, but she kept dancing, singing along with the lyrics, shouting, and cheering as though she was having the time of her life. The truth was she hated every second of her existence at the moment. Alex knew she wasn’t a big partier. But Phil’s party was important, and since he’d secured the invitation, and the permission to invite friends, he had to go.

“But why do we have to go?” Mia had asked, hating the whine in her voice. “You don’t even like Phil Richart. You said he’s a rich asshole.”

“He’s worse than that,” Alex had said, pulling her closer to him. They were in bed, still sweaty and breathing hard from a second round of aggressive lovemaking, which was what Alex preferred.

“Then why do we have to go to his stupid party?” Mia asked.

“Because rich assholes have connections,” Alex said. “They have power. And if I’m going to give us the life we deserve, then I need access to those connections and that power. This party is an opportunity. I have to take advantage.”

Mia had smiled, and closed her eyes, cuddling next to him. She didn’t really know what he meant by opportunities and advantages, but it didn’t matter. She’d heard what she wanted to hear. What she needed to hear. Alex was working onmaking a life for them. Going to Phil’s party would help him do that, so she had to do her part.

Even though she hated it.

Mia would endure the chaotic revelry, the loud music, and crazy lighting that made her feel dizzy and sick, the sharp smell of weed, and the damp frenetic bodies pulsating around her, pushing and pulling her in all different directions. She could deal with all that.

But she was having a difficult time ignoring the stares and whispers and laughter of sneering, preening wealthy girls laughing and dancing in clusters around her.

Mia hated feeling self-conscious, but it was impossible, going to a school like Western Baptist University where people didn’t think she belonged because she’d been awarded an academic scholarship. A school full of entitled, cruel wealthy kids who maligned and ignored her. The girls were especially harsh. Mia had tried to make friends, tried to rush a sorority, tried everything she could to fit in, to belong, but even though she was pretty and thin, she was constantly shown that she was not wanted. She would never be good enough.

Even now, the girls gave her evil side eyes and vicious smirks. Whispering about what she was wearing. A black bodycon minidress that she’d picked up from a discount store in the mall. It was plain and inexpensive, but it hugged her slender frame in an enticing and appealing way. Alex had thought it looked great on her and had whispered in her ear that he couldn’t wait to rip it off her.

Mia had figured it would be fine to wear tothe party because a little black dress was always in style, right? Yeah, except the rich girls at WBU could probably tell it was off the rack. And the fabric was cheap and the quality was poor. Most of the girls around her were dressed in outfits that cost thousands of dollars, accentuated by jewelry from Cartier, Harry Winston, and Tiffany’s. Their diamond bracelets and necklaces glittered in the strobing multicolored lights. Other than costume jewelry, Mia had her school class ring and a fake jade bracelet that belonged to her grandmother, neither of which would complement her dress. So she’d decided to wear a silver chain with an infinity pendant around her neck. But it wasn’t good enough.

Somehow, the black dress and the necklace marked her as undesirable. Lower class. And, for some weird reason, Mia felt that her outfit exposed her as a girl who’d grown up in a trailer park to an unwed mother who’d given birth in a Texaco gas station.

“I’ll be back!” Alex yelled toward her, already starting to walk away as she grabbed his arm.

“Where are you going?”

“Get more drinks!” Alex said, yanking free of her desperate grasp.

The main reason Mia hadn’t wanted to go to Phil’s stupid party was because of Alex. Because whenever they went out, someway, somehow, he managed to escape her. Abandon her. He pulled away and disappeared, sometimes for an hour, or so. And where did he go? Mia didn’t want to know.

Except she did.

Alex went hunting for other girls to hook up with.

CHAPTER 20

Fifteen Years Ago

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