Catch Twenty-Two (Westover Prep 2)

The guys, loving the show, whoop and holler for them to begin stripping, and even though one girl seems hesitant, she doesn’t stop her dance partner from lifting her shirt high enough to reveal her lace bra.

The sight does nothing for me. Yeah, I’m a guy, and I imagine I’d be drooling on myself like all the other guys around me if I could concentrate on what’s going on right in front of my face, but my thoughts are a million miles away, or just a couple miles away with Frankie who is no doubt at Piper’s house for the night.

If she were home, this wouldn’t even have happened. If she were in her room when Linc knocked on the door, I would’ve turned him away, liquor, friends, and all, before he could even step foot in the house, but she’s ignoring me, and I stupidly thought the party would help keep her off of my mind. Man, was I wrong.

As the two girls begin kissing, I stand from the sofa and wander around the house. Even with the party raging, everyone seems to be respectful of the décor. There are a few empty cups littering the flat surfaces around the house, but nothing seems broken or ruined.

“Dude!” Linc hisses in my ear, clearly drunk and having a good time. “Did you see what Heather and Drea are doing in the living room?”

He points over his shoulder with a huge grin on his face. He’s a complete idiot, but he’s a happy idiot, and I can’t fault the guy for having a good time. Hell, I’d be him if I didn’t have so many other things on my mind. If I hadn’t lost my dad. If I hadn’t pushed Frankie away so much that she can’t even stand the sight of me.

“They’re about two minutes away from eating each other out!”

He shoves off of me and heads back into the living room to stand beside Graham and Bennett as they all watch the two girls making out. Seconds ago Linc was jovial, but now as he watches them, a sour look has taken over his face. Graham looks like he’s seconds away from lowering his zipper and joining them. Bennett looks disinterested, but his gaze never pulls from the two girls.

I feel bad for those two girls because I know how guys are, especially after hearing the descriptive conversations they have in the locker room. Even with the encouragement of every guy in the room tonight to keep doing what they’re doing, they will be faced with insults and shame come Monday morning at school.

And I did the same to Frankie, didn’t I? I was so pleased, so thankful she let me touch her in that haunted house, I could’ve kneeled at her feet and worshipped her, but when it was over I treated her like trash, calling her a slut and suggesting she opened her legs for everyone when she was so tight on my fingers I knew she’d never been touched before.

Guys are complete assholes, teenage guys especially, and I’m no different.

That night in the barn… God, that night in the barn. It’s burned in my brain, playing on repeat constantly.

Two virgins coming together like that, creating a life. I scrape my hand down my face and look around the room. The two girls that were making out are no longer standing but wrapped around each other in a hot and heavy make-out session right in the middle of the floor. Several people stand around, using the cameras on their phones to make sure the night is never forgotten.

I don’t want this. I don’t want any part of this, but instead of telling everyone to grab their shit and leave, I hit the stairs and head to my room. A sense of grotesque unease washes over me when I see Frankie’s bedroom door cracked. I made sure to close her bedroom door earlier. I even went as far as putting notes on both our doors to let people know that they were off-limits, but apparently it didn’t work. Feeling murderous at the thought of finding people fucking in her bed, I kick the door open with the toe of my boot, but I don’t find a couple teenagers in the throes of passion. Instead, Bronwyn and two of her minions are standing in the middle of the room.

“What the hell are you doing in here?”

All three of them turn in my direction, but instead of even looking a little bit guilty for invading Frankie’s space, Bronwyn turns to look at me, a saccharine sweet smile on her lips.

“Hey, baby.” I cringe at the nickname and instantly regret even pretending to be interested in her to make Frankie jealous.

“You need to leave,” I spit.

“You know,” Bronwyn says as she turns in a full circle looking around the room, “I honestly expected this room to be filled with Barbies and My Little Pony posters.”