Page 77 of Reckless at Westbrook High

He shakes his head at me and I smirk, passing him the half empty bottle of vodka while I move my eyes over the huge crowd of wasted teenagers surrounding us. We’re sat back on the couch at some college party in Sainte Haven, a small town run by three fifteen year old assholes a few miles south of Westbrook. The guys are mostly shirtless and the girls are mostly half naked by this point, walking around this big ass mansion in nothing but their underwear. Freaks Like Us by Sleeping Wolf blares through the speakers set up in the corner and I tip my head back on Levi’s arm, enjoying the way the room spins while I watch the dark red lights dancing on the ceiling.

Fuck, I love this feeling.

Just as my eyes start to close, my phone vibrates against my thigh and I pull it out to check it, squinting a bit to read the messages displayed on the screen.

Freya: I’m so sorry.

Freya: Please don’t do this to me.

Freya: I love you, Wren.

I laugh despite the pathetic crack in my heart and switch it off, shoving it back into the pocket of my jeans.

I hate you, Freya.

“Wren, right?” some guy asks, dropping down on the coffee table in front of me with three solo cups in his hands. “You boys wanna drink?”

I grin and move to take one from him, frowning when Levi snatches it first and tosses it at the guy’s chest, shoving his ass away from me with a lot more force than necessary. “Get the fuck outta here, Donovan.”

“The fuck, Lev?” I complain, smacking his abs with the back of my hand. “I wanted that.”

“You don’t take shit from this guy unless you wanna get spiked,” he tells me, handing me a freshly rolled joint to compensate. “He likes roofies and high school virgins.”

I lock my jaw and look at Donovan, as he was called, pulling my fist back to punch the scrawny little fucker between the eyes. His ass hits the floor and Levi laughs, lifting his lighter to my mouth to burn the tip for me.

“You know your hand’s already fucked, yeah?”

“I forgot,” I mutter, dropping back with a groan while he takes my wrist to check it.

Fucking Derek.

“Alright, stay here, imma go get you some ice.”

I nod and smoke the joint he gave me, watching him move while he walks for the fancy kitchen to grab a handful of ice cubes. He wraps them up in a hand towel and dodges the hot girl running her hands all over his chest, coming back a minute later to retake his seat beside me. He takes my hand to pour a little vodka over the bleeding split between my knuckles and I hiss, surprised I can still feel the burn considering I’ve swallowed fuck knows how many drinks tonight.

I stopped counting about seven hours ago.

“You alright?” he asks, side eyeing me while he presses the makeshift ice pack to my hand.

“Not really,” I force a grin, dropping my forehead down on his shoulder. “I’m so fuckin’ high, Lev.”

“You don’t say.”

“Feels so fuckin’ good, though,” I laugh, swaying to the slow beat of the music pounding through my ears. “Like I’m flying.”

He shakes his head at me and lifts my chin with his forefinger, staring at me while he takes an ice cube out to slide it over the vein in my neck. He moves it down to my collarbone and I shiver, tipping my head back for him with my mouth parted because fuck me, this feels good.

“What are you doing?” I rasp, fisting my good hand on my thigh when he moves the ice up to my jaw and over my bottom lip.

“Tryna sober you up a little bit,” he informs me, hiding a grin when he catches me glaring at him.

I don’t wanna sober up – what I want is to get fucked up until I can’t think or see straight – but I don’t feel like stopping him, either.

Not sure why.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“You wanna suck my dick?”

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