“Uh… Louib—who?” I laughed. “You’re beautiful in pajamas. Just wear something you feel confident in.” I didn’t miss that she changed the subject, but I decided maybe it was best if I didn’t know all of the happenings of their family.
Monroe began pulling clothes from her closet and tossing them onto the floor. Finally, she chose a purple dress with a plunging front and back. Only it was covered with some sheer material so technically it could not be defined as slutty.
I did say technically.
“Your turn.”
“Um, I have a lot of homework and—”
“—Nope, you’re going. Nixon said you could.”
“Oh well, if the great and powerful OZ said I could go….”
Monroe threw her head back and laughed. “Can we please call him Oz from now on?”
“Sure, he’d love that.” I smirked. “He’d probably threaten me again.”
“Whatever.” Monroe rummaged on the floor and grabbed a tight t-shirt and short jean skirt. “Here.” She tossed them at my face.
I caught them. Both pieces of clothing were smaller than the tank top I wore to bed. How was that supposed to work?
“Um, Monroe, this outfit is kind of—”
She rolled her eyes. “Wear flip flops so you don’t look as tall, and we’ll give you a leather jacket. It will look awesome. Trust me.”
I wasn’t sure I could trust anything coming from her mouth, considering she was the one wearing a purple get up that would make the Jersey Shore blush.
“Are you sure I should go? I don’t know, Nixon and I got in a fight and—”
“I need you!” She stood to her full height and stomped her foot. “I need a wing person.”
“For Tex? You’re kidding right?”
“Please?” She jutted out her bottom lip.
I glared, but she kept giving me that pitiful stare of hers. “Fine, I’ll go.” I had a really bad feeling about this party.
Chapter Eight
Note to self — if you have a bad feeling about something… If your gut is twisting at the idea of following through with a bad choice… Just say no. Do not be a yes person. I closed my eyes and opened them again. Maybe if I closed my eyes I’d become invisible. I tried it again. Nope. No such luck. Crap.
“Monroe, I should go,” I yelled above the music.
“No! Stay!” She was dancing with Tex. I mean, I guess you could call it dancing. His hands were everywhere, and honestly I was waiting in anticipation for Nixon to punch him in the nose for holding his sister that close.
But Nixon was nowhere to be found.
Not that I was looking for him.
And even if I was looking for him, it was only out of self-preservation and survival. Like on the Discovery channel, when the antelope see a lion. They don’t just hang out and give the lion a chance. No, they run like hell.
“Okay, five more minutes,” I chanted to Monroe, but she was too busy making out with Tex. Hmm, I’d never really found red heads attractive, but he was kinda cute. When his tongue was in his mouth and he wasn’t completely drunk and humping my roommate.
So basically he was cute this afternoon. Tonight? Not so much.
“Hey, New Girl,” a male voice said from behind me.
I turned.
Phoenix stood there two drinks in hand. His Harvard good looks would get him far. His sandy blonde hair was slicked to the side, but it totally worked for him because it made his thick black eyelashes stand out against his chocolate eyes.
“Drink?” He held out the red plastic cup.
“Did you put a roofie in it?” I asked nicely.
“If I did I wouldn’t tell you,” he said with a deadpan expression.
And there goes that sick feeling again in my stomach.
He smiled warmly and tilted his head. “Take the drink, Trace. I promise I didn’t drug it…” I grasped the cup and took a tentative sip. “This time,” he finished.
“Good to know.”
He put his free arm around me and guided me to the outside. I hadn’t realized how stuffy it was in that tiny room until now. It was some sort of party house located on campus. One that security literally guarded so that kids could get wasted without having to worry about driving or doing something stupid.
Were there really no rules here?
“Rule number six…” Phoenix folded his arms across the banister of the balcony and sighed. “Never accept drinks from a stranger.”
“Do you qualify as a stranger?” I asked, taking another sip.
“No. We’re…” He seemed to think about it for a few seconds. “Friends.”
“Wow, that must have been hard to say out loud.”
“You should be more careful.” He sighed into his hands. “Look, I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. If Nixon finds out, he’ll kick my ass, but he’s just trying to protect you. You don’t know what the people are like here. I mean, you’re from a farm for crying out loud.”
“You sound just like him.” I played with the plastic cup in my hands and then set it on the balcony. “Everyone here is under the age of twenty-one, right?”
He shrugged. “Some are, some aren’t.”
“And they’re so bad that you guys have your own mafia to keep everyone in check? I don’t believe it. Sorry, but what about the security, what about the adults, the teachers?”