Page 58 of My Debacle with De Lorenzo

I nod, pretending to believe it. “And how’s that working out for you?”

“It’s exhausting and unrewarding...but I keep trying and that’s what counts.” He says it in the same playful tone, but something about the way he says it makes me think he might be serious.

Peter takes his car keys out of his pocket. “Can we get going?”

We say goodbye to my parents, then head to the front door and as I open it, my mom yells, “Make good choices.”

That word of advice is meant for Scott and Peter because my parents have already given me the talk about being “responsible”. I promised them I would never touch drugs and I would only try alcohol when I was the legal age to do so. They have enough stress without me adding on more worries.

We decide to go in separate cars because Peter has no intention of leaving alone and I’m probably going to leave early. Queues of cars are lined up on both sides of the street when we get there, and I’m forced to park about four houses away from Sean’s house. I walk across the road to meet Peter and Scott, and we follow the sound of the loud music until we enter the gates of Sean’s estate.

It’s already a madhouse. Red solo cups litter the front lawn, leaving a trail to the foyer inside. Getting through the front door is a mission on its own. We squeeze through the crowd, making our way to the entertainment area that overlooks a crystal-clear pool. Drunken guys bump into me as they run through the house. Between the music and the rowdy drinking games, my ears are already beginning to zing.

The entertainment room looks like a high-end bar and is about the size of one, too. Shiny wooden flooring, matte black 3D wall panels, and blue ambient lighting add to the elegance. Glass double sliding doors lead to the patio and the pool area. The party seems to be wilder outside, with people howling with laughter and dive-bombing into the water fully clothed. Inside is furnished with a pool table and a foosball table with a bar in front of it. It’s a self-serving bar because two kegs and bottles of alcohol are haphazardly strewn across the counter. Semi-circular black leather sofas are set up all across the large room, probably enough to seat fifty to sixty people.

As the party outside becomes more raucous, more people head to the pool, and the crowd inside thins out.

“Let’s get something to drink,” Peter suggests.

I follow behind him and as we get closer to the pool tables; I spot Bella. Her friends are gathered around her on the couch, and she’s sitting on David’s lap with her arms looped around his neck. The reaction is instant. My heart rate goes up, my temperature rises, and I feel the burn beneath my skin as anger spreads through me like wildfire. I can’t believe that she came here with that sleazebag after I asked her not to, and the fact that she’s doing it just to spite me makes it ten times worse.

Like me, it looks like she just found random things in her closet and threw it together to make a costume. The horns on her head and the discarded plastic pitchfork on the floor show that she wanted a devil look. She’s coupled these props with a black dress that is way too short. David has one hand on her upper thigh and the other firmly cupping her ass.

Our eyes lock as I pass her and I fully expect a look of smug satisfaction, but that’s not what I get. Even in the dim blue hue, I can make out her vacant expression. I would prefer smug satisfaction because that at least means she feels something, but that look tells me she’s probably piss-drunk and devoid of any emotion.

I don’t know if I’m mad at her or me right now. I messed up and said the wrong thing, which then sparked this cataclysmic chain reaction. That’s on me. But her behavior is completely over-the-top and unnecessary, given the circumstances.

I’m watching this prick with his fucking hands all over her, and it’s driving me crazy knowing that she’s doing all this to get back at me. This is why guys like me need to stay in our lane. Level eight is more than I can handle. It takes the supernatural force of some higher power for me to ignore both of them and continue to the bar.

“I think there are some college girls here tonight,” Peter comments, filling two cups with beer. “That brunette in the corner is giving me serious fuck-me eyes.”

I look to the opposite side of the room and spot the girl he’s referring to. “Nah, that’s just a severe case of glaucoma.”

He lightly pushes my shoulder. “Don’t be a hater.” He picks up both cups, then nudges me with his elbow. “Looks like she has a friend. C’mon, let’s go talk to them. If you strategically hide your entire personality, she’ll be fooled into thinking you’re cool, and you might get your dick sucked tonight.”

Maybe it’s because I’m already pissed off, but that comment aggravates me even more. “You know, Peter, women aren’t just sex toys to be used for a man’s pleasure.”

“Of course, I know that.” He smirks at me. “They can make sandwiches, too.”

“Fuck you!”

“I’m kidding! Geez, calm down. I’m just kidding.”

I shove past him and walk toward the pool table. “Dick!”

“Aw, c’mon, Dyl. I didn’t mean it.”

Peter is still chuckling behind me when Scott comes after me. “It’s just a joke, Dylan,” he says, trying to suppress a laugh.

“Yeah, well, it’s not funny.”

“You’re so sensitive. Don’t you think you’re overreacting a little? I don’t understand how a silly comment like that got your panties twisted so tight.”

“You wouldn’t understand because you’re an only child, but I have a younger sister and when I think about her meeting guys like that...it just makes me so mad.” To keep my hands busy, I rack up the balls on the pool table. “He has no respect for women. And I don’t know why you’re just brushing it off. Did you forget that he almost hit Catalina in the cafeteria the other day? Youhateher, but even you defended her that day because it’s not okay, Scott.”

His expression hardens. “I didn’t forget about that. She insulted him and he’s still angry about it, so he’s not seeing the gravity of what he did...but he will. And when he does, he’ll realize how badly he messed up.” He lets out a heavy breath. “And the thing is, I’m partly to blame because I created this culture where everyone thinks it’s okay to disrespect her. I never should’ve treated her the way I did or said the things I said to her because it escalated to a point where she almost gothit. Steven did the same thing with Isabella. To be nasty with words is one thing, but for them to physically take their anger out on a girl...Shit, Dyl, it eats me to know I indirectly had a hand in that.”

The look of genuine remorse on his face stuns me, and my eyes narrow as I scrutinize him. “Are you okay? You almost sound like a decent person. This is the first time I’ve heard you speak like you might actually have an empathetic bone in your body.”

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