One-Eighty (Westover Prep 1)

“No.”

My short answer doesn’t seem to bother her. Whatever you want to call this situation between Bronwyn and me is past its expiration date. It has been for a while, but at the same time, pickings are slim to begin with in Westover, and I had a really wild time sophomore year. Cocky as it may seem, I can take my pick of the girls in school and many from the nearby college, but I’m not really one to revisit.

“Did you see who’s here?” Kyle asks as he leans in closer when Bronwyn climbs off my lap and mumbles something about getting another beer.

Hopefully, she’ll get several more and won't be interested in coming back over here.

“Who?” I ask even though I know he’s spotted the same petite girl I just did moments ago.

“Bloody Mary is here.”

I allow my eyes to drift to her when he nods his head in her direction. She doesn’t look our way, but I’d be a fool to think she didn’t locate us the second she stepped inside. She knows she’s safest when she can locate her predators and keep away from them.

“So?” Pretending to be uninterested, I turn my head, so it looks like I’m paying attention to the people dancing in the center of the room.

She’s back to her old self in jeans and a t-shirt that’s two sizes too big for her, but even seeing her like she is now doesn’t make the memories of what she looked like earlier fade from my mind. Her hair is not as frizzy as it normally is, but the curls are gone as well as the sultry makeup she was able to hypnotize me with earlier.

Her friend, Frankie, points toward the kitchen, miming getting a drink, and I watch as Mary shakes her head when Frankie holds up two fingers, clearly asking her if she wants one as well. Smart girl not planning to drink tonight.

Mary stands alone only halfway through the foyer, looking lost and out of her element. Her lips turn down in a frown when she looks down at her phone.

“This is going to be so much fun,” Kyle says, rubbing his hands together mischievously as he stands from the couch. “Catch ya later.”

I don’t bother speaking as he crosses the room, giving Mary a wide berth before shooting up the stairs. Someone else takes Kyle’s spot on the sofa, but I don’t acknowledge them. Thankfully, they don’t try to engage me in conversation either.

For what seems like forever, I stare at Mary as she stares down at her phone. She types something on it several times like she’s texting, but they must not be responding because she’s growing increasingly agitated. The irritation doesn’t fade when Frankie shows up at her side and offers her a red Solo cup. Her head shakes back and forth as her thumb hitches over her shoulder, indicating that she’s going to leave.

“Here, man.” One of the incoming JV baseball players offers me a shot glass, and I turn it up, slamming it in one go just to get him out of my hair. Like he’s never tasted alcohol before, the boy refills my shot glass before I can pass it off.

That shot goes down easy, too, but most of my drinks have for the last two hours. I feel heavy and somehow detached from what’s going on around me. In the soft light from the overhead chandelier hanging in the entryway, Mary actually looks ethereal. I know if we weren’t in Westover, if I’d seen her walk into a party, never having met her before, I would try to talk to her. I’d do my best to persuade her to follow me upstairs so we could talk where it wasn’t so noisy.

But we are in Westover, and as petty as holding a grudge over not getting picked to play with in recess so many years ago is, I’ve dedicated my free time and reputation on tormenting her. There’s no way I can change any of that now.

When I blink, I realize Mary is no longer standing in the middle of the room, frowning at her phone. My body moves before my mind can tell it where to go, but the house isn’t so big that I lose track of her for long. By the time I make it across the room, I see her tucking her phone into her back pocket as she climbs the staircase.

Needing to watch her humiliation, I follow behind her, my drunken thoughts needing the reminder of who this girl is to get back on track.

Softly, she taps her knuckles against the first door on the right. Kyle’s little brother isn’t home tonight, but that doesn’t stop someone on the other side of the door verbally granting her entrance, but as soon as she opens the door, her feet freeze before she can step a single foot inside.