Page 75 of The Order

“Still trying to get with that?” Josh questions back to Max, watching the blonde’s face grow red at the comment.

“Do you plan on standing here like a jackass all night or…?”

“Where’s your brother?” Josh questions, leaning into the doorframe. “He is an absolute party killer.”

“That's probably why I left him at home,” I say, not telling Josh that Rae and Kai already had their own plans for the night. “So can I come in, or should I fuck off?” I question, watching the smirk develop on Josh’s face.

“Colton,” Josh says, pointing to his shadow, “Go get her a cup of what Vega’s drinking.”

Colton nods at him, disappearing from the entryway with a look of determination. Josh steps away from the doorway, extending his arm into the space, finally allowing me to pass. Moments later, Colton returns with a cup, placing it in my hand with a smile.

“I don’t drink-”

“If you’re going to come to my party, you might as well do it the right way,” Josh says, silencing my long list of reasons why I trust nothing in a cup from him. Still, with sealed lips, I nod, watching him look me over before finally working his way back into his living room to continue his conversation with the group of women he’d left behind.

Max waits back, still flush in the cheeks from Josh’s earlier comment to him.

“A small get-together to make more friends,” I say, throwing out the description he’d given me to convince me to come here in the first place.

“Josh said it would only be a few people.”

“Clearly,” I say, looking around at the drunken mob of students running around the space.

A girl bumps into me, sending a good portion of my drink down the front of my hoodie in large splotches. I curse as I set down the drink, pulling my hoodie off of me, not thinking of the smaller shirt Rae urged me to wear for the night, showing off some of my stomach and enunciating the breasts I didn’t realize I had. Our regulated hormones had hit us all like a train over the summer, leaving us with less room in our clothes and more things to look at. I stare at the splotch on my hoodie, lowering it to see Max’s eyes plastered on me, specifically my body.

“Max!” I snap, watching his dilated pupils adjust as his attention drifts back to my face.

“Hm?” he questions, clearly distracted.

“Hey, Vega!” Josh yells, widening his eyes at me before returning to Max. “Come over here. These are the guys I was telling you about,” Josh beckons, speaking to the fourth and fifth years in the activity-based classes at the Academy. Playing at the higher levels is by invite only, and I’ve watched reluctantly as Josh and Max have grown closer, helping each other secure their placements for more advanced sports come their fifth year.

“I’m sorry,” Max begins, looking at me apologetically as he backs away.

“Don’t let me stop you,” I say, watching him give me a frown as he turns to join the group of overly assertive teenage jocks. I could practically smell the testosterone oozing from them, which was an affront to my senses as I took in a whiff of the vile concoction of alcohol in my cup, smelling more of mouthwash than anything I would have a desire to drink.

I watch the roar of the flames grow through the back door. I look down at my wet hoodie, needing a way to dry it quickly so the smell doesn’t linger later.

“Might as well try and enjoy my night without you,” I whisper, giving Max one last look before slipping outside.

No one remained seated by the fire. After everyone had eaten and someone had announced that a makeshift dancefloor was the place to be, pretty much everyone hurried to go inside, clearly unable to pass up an opportunity to touch and grope one another. Given how rarely touch is allowed before marriage or exclusive relationships that are most of the time entirely forced on us by our families for common interest or gain, a few stolen moments like that are more than enough for most.

I sat on one of the farthest logs from the house that surrounds the bonfire, tossing my cup into the grass and freeing both hands to hold up my hoodie. Its material grows warm, slowly drying once I lay it across the log beside me. I watch the fire eat away at the wood, dwindling in size with each ember it flicks into the air.

“Not big on parties?” a male voice questions from next to me, now visible since the flames have died down. The figure is in a black hoodie, hiding their face behind a mask you’d generally see attached to an Official. All I can see is his eyes and the bright blue irises that seemed to glow through the flickers of firelight.

“More like I’m not big on dealing with any of the assholes in there,” I say, raising my hands to warm by the fire. The man lets out a small laugh, fidgeting with a metal flask.

“Don’t trust Josh’s surprise in the punchbowl?” I question, watching the man’s eyes move down to my cup.

“As much as you do, apparently,” he says, lowering his mask just enough to take a swig of whatever’s inside the flask. The bottom half of his face is just as lovely to look at as the top half. But I don’t recognize him from the Academy.

“What's with the getup?” I question, motioning to his outfit as he drags the mask back up.

“There are some people here I don’t want to see me,” he starts, noticing my quick glances at his flask. He looks around the space, hesitantly deciding to get up. I see now how tall he is, making it harder to swallow once he chooses to sit at the end of my log. A few feet are between us, both legs out in front of him. His scent is inviting, smelling of cinnamon and oak. His hand reaches toward me, holding the flask out, his eyes still toward the fire.

I take it in my hand, letting our fingers brush only for a moment.

“What is it?” I question, raising the drink to my nose.

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