Page 41 of Wanted You More

“That was last year,” I counter, finishing my drink too and putting it next to hers. Hooking our arms together, I lead us toward the crowd playing beer pong in the middle of the living room and nudge her. “Want to play next round?”

Her expression brightens. “Hell yeah! We’re going to show these bitches up.”

And we do.

Two intense rounds later, everyone playing is fairly wasted. Marybelle has some skinny boy attached to her waist, and I’ve had a few guys’ eyes burning holes into my ass, and my limbs have a very welcoming buzz to them.

I tug on Marybelle’s arm and lean in so she can hear me say, “I need to pee! Are you going to be okay?”

Her eyes go from me to the boy paying her special attention. The grin she offers me tells me she’ll be fine before she replies, “I’m in good hands. Come back so we can smoke more people.”

I elbow my way through the thick crowd and toward the back hallway, where I know one of the bathrooms is. I’m not shocked when I see a line already, but I have no intention of waiting. I’ve been to this house enough to know there are two different bathrooms upstairs. The girl who usually hosts parties likes keeping upstairs off-limits, but it doesn’t stop many people from venturing up there.

Usually, it’s for hookups, but my bladder is in no mood for that right now.

After slipping into the master bathroom of the much quieter second level of the home, I pull my phone out of my pocket.

Me:Guess whaaaaaaaaaaaat

I giggle at my message before finishing my business and washing my hands. Looking at myself in the mirror, I fluff my curled hair and touch up my makeup that’s smudged from how hot it is downstairs.

When my phonedings, I grab it and smile at the text reply.

Noah:What?

Me:I’m a littttle bit drunk right now

Me:But don’t worry I’m safe

I set the phone down and watch the bubbles move on the bottom of the screen as he texts me back. Making myself comfortable on the counter, I wait until I see the message pop up.

Noah:You wouldn’t happen to be on Grand Street, would you?

Gasping, I ask, “How did he know that?”

Blinking, I reread the text before sending him another one.

Me:Are you here too? You hate parties!

Noah:A noise complaint was called on the residence. Where are you?

How does he know that? Did one of his buddies on the police force tell him? Why would he be with them on Valentine’s Day? Shouldn’t he be spending time with Bailey? I bet she’s upset he didn’t make plans.

When I see him calling, I hesitate to answer because I don’t know what he’s going to say. But it’s Noah. So, I pick up.

“Where are you right now?” he asks again, voice firm.

I look around the room and whisper, “I’m in the bathroom.”

“Why are you talking so quietly?” There’s a pause. Then his voice becomes harder when he asks, “Is someone in there with you?”

Another drunken giggle comes out of me as I swing my legs over the side of the countertop I’m sitting on. “No, silly. I’m wearing black. That means nobody can touch me. I had to pee really bad because Marybelle and I have been playing beer bong. No, wait. Beer pong. Yeah, that.”

He curses. “Come outside. I’m coming to get you before they break up the party. Your dad doesn’t need to get a call about you being there.”

Sometimes when he’s on duty, they have him at the fire station with an on-call officer. He used to talk about pancake breakfasts that some of the firefighters would put on at any time of day. “Are you working tonight? I thought you’d have plans with your giiiiirlfriend. Don’t you know that’s what you do on this holiday?”

All Noah says is, “Get downstairs, Austen. I’m not talking about Bailey to you.”

---