Page 12 of What Is Love
Brandon was now on his fourth beer, while I was still holding my untouched first. With each drink he chugged down, the more he touched me. First it was the stroking of his thumb just above my buttcheek. Then his hand curved more around my hip until his fingers were caressing my hipbone. Now it was fully on my ass. I tried to shift my weight from one foot to the other, thinking he might realize where he was touching me or pick up on the fact that I was uncomfortable. His hand didn’t move. Instead, he pulled me closer to him. His cologne filled my nose. It didn’t matter if I turned my head away, I couldn’t escape the smell.
I felt like I couldn’t breathe. The longer I stood there, the warmer the room got. I needed a break. I needed space.
I leaned close to his ear so only he would hear me. “I'm going to the restroom.” I didn’t wait for a response. My feet moved me away and out of reach.
There was a restroom in the basement. Thankfully, it looked occupied, which gave me an excuse to go upstairs.
I abandoned my beer on the first flat surface I came across. The only thing left in my hand was my purse, which I was clutching tightly. The farther away I got, the better the air felt. It wasn’t enough, though. I needed more or I was going to collapse in a full-blown panic.
I headed out the back door as soon as I saw it. There were a lot of people outside hanging out around and in the giant pool. With the weather still being a little chilly, it was surprising seeing people in the water.
I didn’t know where I was going. I just kept moving. I’d go hide behind a tree or a bush if I had to.
Weaving around people felt never-ending. It made me want to start running.
Trapped.
I was feeling trapped.
When I spotted a stone path that led toward the side of the house and away from the pool area, away from people, I took it without thought to where it would end. The farther I walked, the quieter and darker it got. Not completely dark, though; little solar lanterns lined my path and each of the trees around the property had bright lights in the ground at its base, pointing up to illuminate its trunk and branches.
As soon as I rounded the corner of the house, I stopped. Out of view, I put a hand on my chest and began pacing back and forth, each time walking just a few feet along the wall, staring at my dimly lit shoes. I rubbed at my chest, gasping with each breath as I tried to calm down. The music was not as loud, the sound of people talking and laughing was distant, but my heart still drummed in my ears.
What am I going to do?
I didn’t want to go back.
Calm down.
It was hard. I was too overwhelmed. I needed an outlet. Not having one pissed me off.
I breathed out a curse. “Fuck.”
It helped. Getting angry helped.
I cursed again and again, my voice getting a little louder each time.
My phone began ringing in my purse. What if it was Mother? What if it was Brandon looking for me? Something inside me just snapped. I stopped pacing and threw my purse as hard as I could at the side of Tristen’s house. My bag hit with a loud thunk. The impact made it pop open, and as it fell to the ground, almost everything inside spilled out onto the stone path. My wallet, makeup, a just-in-case tampon, and my phone clattered and slid near my feet. My phone finished ringing and the screen showed that I had a missed call from Evie. She rarely ever called me. I could only assume it was to interrogate me about my relationship with Brandon.
Feeling ridiculous, I squatted with the intent to pick up my things, but my arms felt too heavy to move. I let out a defeated, loud sigh as I stared at the mess.
“You okay, Lottie?” a familiar male voice asked.
I turned my head slowly in the direction of the voice. Monroe and two guys I didn’t recognize were standing about fifteen feet away, off the path, under a brightly lit tree. All three of them were stunned still as they stared at me. I should have been embarrassed by what they had just witnessed. Maybe deep down I was just a little, but I was too stressed out to care.
Monroe had a joint in his hand—freshly lit, by the look of it. I stood, abandoning my stuff still on the ground, and made my way over to them. As soon as I was off the stone path, my heels sank into the grass. I let out another curse, stepped out of my pumps, and continued barefoot.
The three of them watched me approach. I could tell from a quick glance that Monroe’s friends were not from the north side of the bridge, not that I cared. It was their ripped jeans, faded graphic tees, tattoos, and piercings that gave them away. One of them was blond. Or maybe he wasn’t. His roots were dark. The other stood between Monroe and the blond. He was the tallest of the three and had short, brown hair styled to look messy. Fromwhat I could see, he had the most tattoos out of the three. Where Monroe and his blond friend had tattoos scattered in different places on their arms, the brunette had full sleeves.
I met Monroe’s blue eyes, which looked dark without the sun to show off their color, before I plucked the joint from his fingers.
His brows rose, but he didn’t say anything as I brought the joint to my lips. I wasn’t that freshman waiting on the curb for her ride. I had smoked many times since then. So when I took a puff, I didn’t cough.
I had this ridiculous hope that getting high would immediately take away my troubles. It didn’t. As I exhaled, though, I did feel my body relax a little.
I found myself staring at the brunette’s T-shirt. It was black with a faded whiskey company logo on it. I didn’t really like whiskey. It burned too much going down. I supposed all alcohol did. Maybe that was why I didn’t like to drink that often. No, I definitely had a better reason for not liking alcohol.
“Lottie?” Monroe said, pulling me from my daze.
