Page 4 of Beautiful Delusions

"Nope, no thanks." I back out. Regardless of what's brought me to be here, that's too many people in too small a space. Staggering back into the lobby, my stomach rolls. For the second time tonight, I can’t believe I’ve allowed myself to enter a viper’s nest. Desperation to rid myself of this anxious itch is pushing me into even more triggering situations, and so the spiral continues.

“You have to play the part,” Jazzie chastises me, appearing at my side. Her leather dress is tight-fitting and dips far too low into her sternum. I look down at my own outfit–a baggy sweater, short skirt and one muddy foot which will definitely need some medical attention later. “You can’t waltz into a party and start demanding for a drug dealer. Smile, flutter your lashes. It’ll get you further, trust me.” I twist behind a huge central staircase, stealing a moment to myself. She’s right, I need to be discrete but appealing.

Straightening my sweater, kicking off my other sneaker, and flicking my straight, blue hair over my shoulder, I re-emerge to throw flirty smiles and winks out like hooks amongst the fishes. Never mind that I’m still panting from my midnight sprint, or reeling over the need to curl up in a ball and cry. Confidence is key, and that’s what begins drawing a pack of hot guys towards me. I don’t let them get too close, slipping through a set of French sliding doors to the back patio before I start to hyperventilate.

It’s much less crowded and easier to breathe out here, the rounded patio a much-needed solid base beneath my feet. Beside an oval swimming pool, a table is covered in a black cloth and all kinds of spirits and drinks. I’m not supposed to drink on my meds, but I’m also not going to survive this night sober. A bartender in a slick shirt rolled up to the elbows is spinningglasses and bottles around him in an impressive display, drawing us closer.

“What can I get you?” he asks, handing a bright pink cocktail to another guest, complete with cherry and umbrella.

“One of those would do the trick.” I nod assertively. I watch the bartender repeat his juggling act, his eyes flicking to me curiously every few seconds. I know what he’s thinking; I’ve heard it before. ‘Why’s a pretty girl like you by herself?’ People assume my fuller lips and pale blue eyes, my long legs, and lithe shape should be enough to gain me popularity. But I can’t keep long-term friends from the habit of shutting everyone out. Accepting my drink, I sip it gingerly. I haven’t eaten much today to justify knocking it back and grabbing for another.

Suddenly, arms grip me from behind, dragging me sideways. A scream is torn from my throat as air whooshes past my ears, the glass flying from my hand. Colliding with the pool, the iron grip clinging onto my mid-section doesn’t loosen, holding me beneath the water. Bubbles escape my mouth as I cry out, writhing in the banded arms. As my lungs begin to ache, a slice of dread takes over, forcing my elbow to connect with a strong jaw. Releasing me at last, I frantically kick upwards, making sure to hit my attacker once more along the way.

Breaching the surface, laughter rings out all around the pool’s edge. I swim to a metal ladder, pulling my weight up whilst ignoring the multiple smartphones being shoved in my face. The crowd automatically departs, allowing my gaze to settle on a guy reclining in a sun lounger with sunglasses on, despite the moon being directly overhead. What a douche.

“I’m glad you seem amused,” I seethe when he does nothing but smirk at me. I tug on my left sleeve, awkward beneath the weight of his, and everyone else’s, attention.

“That’s what happens to uninvited guests, I’m afraid,” he says before downing the contents of his whiskey glass. A goldenchain hangs over his white t-shirt beneath an open leather jacket, dark jeans hugging his legs above a pair of unlaced timberlands. Girls are fawning over him, massaging different areas of his body.

A figure bursting upwards from the water makes me flinch, an unnecessary amount of water being splashed over my legs. His legs move back and forth, keeping him afloat as I notice the basketball jersey floating around his muscled arms. A mop of dark blond hair is plastered to his head, his eyes boring into mine with more than a little hatred. It’s him, from the library.Ezra.

Of all the stupid reasons, for the love of unbroken opinions, my first thought upon seeing him is…he didn’t bring my damn shoe. He’s halfway up the ladder when a white flash of rage comes over me, striking my heel into his chest. He slips, caught off guard and splashes back beneath the surface. Some people cheer, most gasp, and that’s when I know, I’ve really fucked up. A hand slips through the crowd, grabbing my wrist and dragging me away. I sense the douche watching me leave from beneath his sunglasses, although he makes no move to stop me. Why would he?

The hand doesn’t stop tugging until we’re back in the manor, rounding the stairs. A head of strawberry blonde hair bobs ahead, a sickly-sweet voice muttering to herself. Reaching a bedroom, she orders the threesome currently taking place on the ottoman to get lost. Strangely enough, they obey, leaving just the two of us alone.

“I don’t know what you did to piss Ezra off, but a word to the wise, don’t do it again,” she raises a single brow at me before breaking into a huge smile. “I’m Letty.” Her hand slips into mine, giving it an involuntary shake.

“Um, hi. I’m Sophia,” I lower my head as if I’m ashamed of my own name. Somehow, despite the crowds which were justsurrounding me, it’s Letty’s closeness which unnerves me the most. Her energy is expansive, drawing any I had left directly from my soul.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. You look like shit,” she giggles. Leaving me against the closed door, Letty rummages through some drawers, then a wardrobe and lastly, looks under the bed. “Here you go,” she deposits a heap of material into my arms, topped with glittering chunky heels.

After being directed to a bathroom, any debate I had dies on my tongue as I see the mirror. Damn, I do look like shit. My makeup is smudged, my hair is a tangled mess, and there are bruises forming on my arms from the struggle in the pool. My eyes drop to the glittery dress I’ve been supplied, already knowing I can’t wear that. It’s too…exposed. But that’s a future me problem.

Stripping out of my wet clothes, I shiver as the cold air hits my skin before stepping into the shower. I should be in more of a rush, but once the heated water touches my skin, I lose all sense of place and time. Letting the warmth wash away the chlorine, I wait out the fear still lingering in my psyche. Outside this spray, there are hordes of students waiting. Watching for what I might do next. There's an asshole who called me out for being a stranger and another who threw me into the pool. My legs shake, threatening to give out. I'm trapped. In the middle of a nightmare with no way to escape.

Breathe, Sophia.Jazzie sounds in my mind. She doesn't appear in the bathroom or when I'm at my most vulnerable, but she's still there in the back of my head.Stop thinking and breathe.

"I c-c-can't. I can't, I-I can't," my voice tremors. My chest spasms, causing the rest of my limbs to shake. I know these signs. I need to reel myself in because there's no stopping the avalanche once it tips over the edge of the mountain. In themidst of my labored breathing, the bathroom walls start to close in on me. The once soothing water now feels suffocating, as if it's trying to drown me instead of washing away my fears. I claw at the tiled walls, desperately trying to find an anchor, something to ground me and pull me back from the abyss. But the panic engulfs me, swallowing me whole. My vision blurs and the sound of rushing water transforms into a deafening roar. I'm drowning, not in a pool of chlorine, but in the sea of my own turmoil.

"The fuck?" a voice cuts through the void. I vaguely realize the shower door is opening, but there's no time or strength to cover myself. The water abruptly halts. Strong arms gather me up from the crumbled position on the floor I didn't realize I was in. My skin is raw and tender from where I've unknowingly scrubbed myself too hard, unable to shake off the image of Ezra's furious eyes. He's not going to forgive any of my actions from tonight, and as far as social suicide goes, I reckon I've just signed my own death warrant.

"You're safe," a deep voice grumbles, the vibration rolling beneath my cheek. I think he meant to be kind, but aided by a fierce kick to slam the door closed, the valiant rescue comes off as a huge inconvenience. I cower, naked and vulnerable, against his chest. The vulnerability is overwhelming, but there's also a strange sense of comfort in his embrace. His touch is gentle as if he understands the fragile state of my being. Keeping the lights dimmed and wrapping me in a fluffy towel, he places me on the bed. I resist looking up at his towering outline. My panic attack subsides straight back into a state of fear. I've been in some awkward situations in my life; naked and wet on a bed with a stranger isn't one of them.

Whatever the fuck you do,Jazzie comments in my ears,do not proposition him.I could scowl at her. She's the reason I'm in this mess.

"You must think I'm really stupid." I take a shaky breath, steadying myself as I meet his gaze. His eyes, too dark to discern a color, hold a glimmer of something too akin to understanding. I shrink into myself. It's as if he can see through my carefully constructed facade, stripping me bare of the layers of deflection I've spent years putting in place. I'm the pretty girl that hides in books; that's my personality. But the way he's lingering over me now, I wish I seemed like more. That I was more.

"Not stupid. Disorientated," he finally speaks. I wish I could say the rumbling sound cutting through the air didn't make me flinch. Today is a bad day for me, and the entire school has witnessed the extent of my weakness. "I suppose this is what you came here for." Pulling a small plastic bag from his pocket, the glint of the moon highlights a singular small, rounded pill. I gasp, trying to snatch it.

"How did you–" He flicks the bag just out of my reach.

"When my lab partner missed our study session, I found her cowering in a lecture hall. Apparently, some new girl with blue hair attacked her for a Valium. The same girl with blue hair who tried to seduce Ezra in the library. I must say, if you want to be more discreet, I'd consider a different dye job."

I don't comment further as I slum back against the headboard. A part of me wants to walk out of here and never look back, but that part never shouts loud enough. My eyes track the small pill, my throat too tight to swallow. After everything I've been through today, I can't leave without it all being for a reason.

"This is my room," he raises a singular brow, "and like I said, you're safe here. I'll man the door while you do whatever it is you need to do." Tossing the small packet at me, he strides to the door with long, graceful footsteps. His jeans are fitted to perfection, his dark t-shirt a snug fit. I already knew he was muscular from the way he carried me like I weighed nothing.

"I hope you find the fix you're looking for, Sophia." He gives me a last spearing look before slipping out the door. The click between us is final, ringing out throughout the darkened room. The sound of the party is still going in full swing beyond the window; singing, laughing, and splashing. I wish I could say I didn't grab that plastic bag as soon as I'm convinced I've been left utterly alone, but I'd be lying. More than ever, I need the release. To escape the cage of my mind. To forget all the stupid shit I've done. My fingers shake as I place the pill onto my tongue and swallow without the need for water. Call it the placebo effect, but my limbs instantly melt, my chest rising fully for the first time. I manage to grab the hem of the cover, rolling myself over like a sausage roll, towel, and all.

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