New project! I guess it wasn’t too bright of me to start something else while I was still in the middle of “Love In Sheet Music” but I couldn’t help myself. I kept getting all of the new ideas and these lines kept popping into my head that were just so completely different from Attie it wouldn’t have made sense that she’d said them. So… here we are! It’s pretty much completely different from LINM but I hope it’s just as good and that you guys like it. Let me know what you think.

Working title: Lapis Armenus

Chapter 1: Green Eyed Prelude

I didn’t feel like waking up, knowing the beginnings of a headache was coming on if I dared to open my eyes. It was the kind of headache you got for no reason other than you’d had a few drinks last night and slept way too late into the afternoon. Still, consciousness was calling me back as I felt a hand slide up my exposed stomach, into the folds of my shirt, and under my unfastened bra, to massage my chest.

I groaned, annoyed at being woken up, and stretched. It wasn’t often that I brought a guy home and having him lay shirtless beside me as he fondled my sleeping form, I knew it meant I’d had more to drink than I remembered.

“Morning,” he breathed into my ear, pulling me close to him as he began to drop sloppy kisses down my neck. I almost pushed him away, grossed out by the trail of saliva he was making on my pale white skin. If there was anything I hated, it was spitball kisses. But as he held me, I felt my body shut down again, still tired, unwilling to move, and left him to drool on my neck at least for a few moments more until my cellphone rang angrily, too loud to be ignored.

I disentangled myself from his arms, though he was reluctant to let go, and walked the drawer that sat across the room from me. It only took me three steps.

“What?” I grumbled, in familiar greeting to who ever it was that was stupid enough to try to wake me up at - I pulled the phone away from my ear to check the time - six thirty in the evening.

“Party. A few hours away. Pick you up at eight. Be ready,” was all the voice said before the dial tone cut in, making my head ache with its droning beep. I clicked the phone shut and looked back at the man on my bed.

He must have been in his early twenties, probably no older than twenty three, if even, with a little too long black hair and chocolate colored eyes, that stared at me curiously, wondering what kind of mischief I‘d just gotten us into. He had a square jaw, a toothy smirk, and a muscular chest, that he scratched lazily as I inspected him. In three words he was perfect eye candy, a good hookup pick, and he knew it. Still, as gorgeous as he was, he’d more than overstayed his welcome. The rules were simple, we made out, maybe fooled around, and then they left, no good byes, no phone numbers, no contact.

Deciding that the best way to get rid of him was to ignore him, I walked over to the wardrobe, pulling some faded blue jeans up under my skirt, before throwing the skirt into my hamper, and switching my top without care. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen me in my bra yesterday during our heavy make out session. It would have been too childish to act suddenly embarrassed.

“Going somewhere?” he drawled wryly, obviously unhappy with the lack of attention he was receiving.

“Yeah. Out.” I answered, closing the drawer. “Leave through the window when you feel like it.” I said, not wanting to give him any ideas about clinging to me. It was the last thing I needed.

I closed the door behind me, stepping over all the crap that was left over the floor, old magazines, clothing we’d taken out but decided not to wear, old cigarette boxes, empty bottles - what ever, as I made my way to the kitchen in search of some food. What I found was a half eaten box of cereal and spoiled milk. Rinsing the only almost-clean bowl in the kitchen, I poured the cereal into the bowl and picked at it with a spoon.

I’d been eating dry cereal for breakfast for the past week.

Most people would have been pissed. Me? I knew it meant Aunt Delma had forgotten to buy groceries off the list I’d made days ago, a list that was probably somewhere on the floor with the rest of the nameless junk in the house. I knew better than to confront her and ask if she’d lost it or if she would look for it so I wouldn’t have to make a new one. Anything once lost to the floor, was gone forever. And as it always went, I’d have to write up a new one next week and get everything myself. It only made sense of course since it would be my week to go food shopping after all.

At first, I’d thought this was just Aunt Delma being Aunt Delma, forgetful and messy. It wasn’t until I was fifteen that I realized she lost things on purpose, leaving me to take care of the house and its expenses while she partied with her much younger friends and her boyfriend of the week.

But that was supposed to be expected of Aunt Delma because as she’d explained to me when I’d first moved in with her: “I don’t cook, I don’t clean, and I don’t take care of children”. She’d said the word with such distaste, it made my skin crawl. What Aunt Delma did do, was smoke, work a few shifts at a local bar when she felt like it, bring her boyfriends over, and leave the house keeping and my life to me, which I couldn’t complain about now that I was old enough to appreciate the freedom.

“Hey there Hun, you stayin’ in tonight?” she asked as she grabbed the cereal box from the table and took a handful, shoving it into her mouth before repeating the steps again.

“Don’t call me that,” I snapped. Then thinking about it asked, “Do you care?” The truth was she didn’t. Either way she would be too busy doing what ever it is she did: going to work, partying with friends, or sleeping with some guy to care.

She shrugged, fluffing up her hair in true Delma fashion, “big hair, big personality” she always said. “You go to school today?”

“Does it matter?” It didn’t. As long as she didn’t have the cops coming over, she could have cared less what I did with my time or who I did it with.

She shrugged again. “Just stop using the window, feelings like someone’s trying to break in. I don’t care when you get home. Use the door.” She took a puff of her almost gone cigarette and blew it towards the ceiling only to have the smell muffle down over us. I ignored her comment, eating the rest of my cereal before walking back to my hopefully empty room.

There were a few reason why I climbed in through the window and thinking she’d be mad at what time I was coming home wasn’t one of them. What did contribute to my sneaking in and out, was the idea of having to face what ever guy she brought home if she was too drunk to get him and herself to the bedroom. Once, I’d walked in on her having sex in the littered floor of our living room. Since then, I’d never walked in late at night through the front door. Also, if I did bring someone home, it was easier and faster to have them in through the window, and saved me from being embarrassed by the state of the rest of the house, which was in shambles in comparison to my compulsively neat room.

The last reason, and probably the best, was my run in with Delma’s latest boyfriend, Denny who smelled like grease oil and three day old sweat. Like most of Delma’s boy friends, he was a complete dead beat who barely had a job and practically lived with us. But it wasn’t the smell or unwelcome presence that made me itch beneath the skin, it was the way he looked at me, eyes scraping against my skin as they roamed my body, probably imagining me naked. I didn’t like the way he looked at me at all, didn’t like the way he sat too close when Delma left the room, or the way he gave that lecherous grin. Thanks to Denny, if I was at home, which was rare, I was either in my room or just leaving the kitchen.

When I opened the door to my room, I was glad to find that the half naked boy had already left, and had used the window like I’d asked him to. I sighed my relief and moved to the small closet that stood beside my only window, flipping through the few pieces of clothing that hung there.

Moving in with Delma, made food a priority and clothing a second thought. I hadn’t bought new clothes since two years ago. I hadn’t really minded. I’d already stopped growing and everything still fit me just fine anyway. Still, this did kind of limit my wardrobe selection on nights like these when looking hot was a necessity.

Without enough energy to really care, I put on a red halter and a pair of fit jeans. I slipped on my only pair of boots, thick, chunky, with heels that made me all that much taller, before inspecting my work.

I looked fine: tall, brown haired, and skinny. Figuring I was anything but ugly, I skipped the make up and went out into the kitchen again to wait, knowing my ride wouldn’t pick me up from the back. As the smoke fog embraced me, I was not surprised to find Delma still smoking the hell out of her cigarette filter.

“You seen my cigarettes?” she asked in her thick chain smoker voice. I shrugged, not feeling like answering as I sat at the table across from her, eyeing the chipping pale green paint on the walls.

The place was a dump. The walls were dotted with different colored paint, chipping away the newest coat to reveal what ever the tenant before us had attempted to put up. The ceiling was cracked, tracing animal shapes and water stains, and the floor which was covered in floor paper was ripped and torn, cheap wood poking out into the surface. People only lived in places like this when they couldn’t afford anything else. We lived in a place like this because Delma couldn’t afford a decent place and liquor with her salary.

“Delma you find the cigarettes?” Denny’s voice sounded the same way he looked, slimy and greasy, as he ambled into kitchen, half naked and without socks. It only made sense he looked so at home in the pig hole.

“Nah. Hunny hasn’t seen them either. Should probably buy a new one,” her words came out slowly, like they always did, like she didn’t have a care in the world. Finally, with a last puff, she crushed her cigarette butt into the kitchen table.

“Hun. Been a while since I’ve seen you. You look good.” Denny complimented though I could feel his eyes scraping against my skin again. I ignored it, shrugging in thanks. “She look nice don’t ya think Delma?” He pressed, eyes giving me a lusty once over.

Delma just shrugged like the comment didn‘t surprise her. “Sure she does. Got her mama’s looks and her daddy’s attitude. Tammy always had the looks. God I hated her.” Delma admitted with a laugh. “Shameful havin’ a little sister prettier and smarter and more popular than you.”

I rolled my eyes, hearing her complain about her younger sister more times than I could count. It wasn’t fair that she’d gotten voted prettiest girl in school when all Delma had gotten was funniest laugh, didn’t make sense she’d been voted prom queen when Delma had been forced to go stag, and hated that she’d gotten married to some rich lawyer while Delma’d been stuck dating dead beat boyfriends all her god damn life. It wasn’t fair at all and Delma made sure everyone knew it.

“Well I think you’re pretty baby,” Denny cooed as his tongue traced the inside of her neck, eyes staring out at me from behind her hair as she sighed blissfully.

I felt my entire body shuddered at the sight. There was nothing more disgusting than two middle aged people necking in front of a teen. Silently I prayed to my agnostic powers that be, that my ride would show up, and save me from the prelude to their romping.

Thankfully I didn’t have to wait much longer to hear the horn blare outside three times. Hastily I threw myself off the chair and out the front door, not caring enough to say a goodbye I knew they weren’t waiting for anyway.

I walked up the graveled path of the broken down house and got into Lacey’s beat up old Chevy, the car her dad had driven before he gave it to her and bought himself something nicer.

“Where the hell’s your make up?” Destiny demanded from the back seat as I shut the door and rolled my eyes.

“Didn’t feel like caking it on,” I shrugged as Lacey started the car and pulled away from the curb.

“It’s not like she needs it Des. I still can’t believe you went home with that guy,” Lacey was all envy and awe as she tucked her hair nervously behind her ears.

“What ever. Could’ve done a lot better if she just shut the hell up and listened,” Des seethed in obvious jealousy. I ignored the comment, knowing that she was just mad she couldn’t have gotten someone as good looking as the guy I’d kicked out of my room that evening on her best day. Though I could tell from all the make up, pink tube top, and jean mini skirt that she was trying. But that was just the way Des was, mean and jealous, and a complete wench when she wanted to be which was almost all the time. Not at all like Lacey who was small and quiet and weak.

We weren’t friends but we needed each other, stuck together out of necessity. When I’d first moved to Oregon, they’d been the only people willing to talk to me, both for their own reasons and we’d been together for the past four years.

“So what did happen between you and that guy yesterday?” Lacey asked coyly, glancing at me before making a left hand turn onto the I-84.

“Stuff.” I evaded, closing my eyes and resting back into the lumpy car seat. It was going to be a long ride. Seeing how much work Des had put into getting ready, we were probably going to Portland where the wealthier kids lived, at least an hour and a half away.

“Like what?” I opened one eye and shot Lacey a look of annoyance.

Lacey never did much. She was small and delicate, quiet and shy. She was the girl who refused to drink and parties and ran away from interested guys. She was way too naïve to ever try to have a life.

“God, you’re drooling over her again Lace. Maybe you should stop living through Hunt,” Des taunted from the darkness of the back before adding “wimp” more spitefully than usual.

Beside me Lacey shrank into her seat, unable to go down any further due to her safety belt and driving. Slightly offended for her, I twisted in my seat, not having to deal with my seatbelt, and cocked an eyebrow at the mumbling drama queen.

“What?! Well it’s true! I brought a guy home too. He was really hot. A shame you guys left early,” she bragged with a haughty laugh that always rubbed me the wrong way. Like Des, her laugh exuded insecurity, anger, and jealousy. “Anyways, if she’d actually talk to someone instead of gluing herself to you maybe she wouldn’t be so pathetic.”

To Des, being the only one not doing something always made you pathetic. It didn’t even matter what it was. In fact, not being pathetic was the reason she’d lost her virginity when she was fifteen. It was the reason she’d been smoking pot for the past two years and never turned down a shot. Because as messed up as she was, at least Destiny Spurken wasn’t pathetic. Des’d been so sure of it, I’d never said anything against it. Besides, it was her life.

“So Lace,” I asked, “what’s up with you and Jeffery?” A lot like Delma’s questions, there was no actual curiosity behind it, just something to say because you though you had to. Even still, the simple question perked her up.

“Jeffery Bonner? Nothing! No way! He’s such a nerd,” she giggled though I could tell she was blushing. And he was, a complete nerd that is, always carrying around a pencil, notepad, and calculator. Captain of the math club, he was also the only boy that hadn’t scared away skittish Lacey Dinggler.

Des groaned from the back, a sure sign that she was annoyed or pissed off.

Lacey had always been the prettiest of the two, cute and sweet, the way most boys liked them. Something about her innocent smile, made you want to corrupt her. But Des had always been average. Average hair, average face, average figure. She’d been born plain and never grew out of it. Her thoughts practically screamed out loud. If she’d looked like Lacey, she’d have done a lot better than Jeffery freaking Bonner.

Knowing Des, she was probably right.

The party in Portland wasn’t much different from the parties farther down state. The only difference was the houses were bigger, the neighborhoods were nicer, and apparently you needed an invite to get in. In rich kid neighborhoods, invitation only parties were necessary if they didn’t want their stuff stolen by some drunk poor kids like Lacey, Des, and I. In our neighborhood it never made a difference, there was nothing worth stealing.

“But we were invited! I told you I just can’t find the freaking invite,” Des yelled at the teenage bouncer. He looked like some jock from the football team who got suckered into pushing off unwanted strangers for ten bucks an hour.

“What ever. No invite. No entry,” he droned back, crossing his arms over his large chest, trying to look authoritative and commanding. I snorted from behind Des and Lacey, thinking we should just skip the damn party and go drink in the student parking lot of Lincoln High, like we always did when we were bored and without anything else to do.

“Des, maybe we should just go back,” Lacey voiced nervously from behind her, looking anxiously between the football linebacker and Des, who still managed to look threatening despite her size.

“No Lacey. We are not going home. This meathead is going to let us in because we were freaking invited and it’s their fault for making the damn invitations so small,” she reasoned through grit teeth.

Probably, we weren’t invited and Des heard about the party from her random hookup last night, got enough information that we would show up and lie ourselves into the exclusive house party. But as much on her game as Des was we didn’t seem to be getting anywhere.

“I already said you’re not getting in,” he repeated, nodding to some guys behind me. Des growled her annoyance, sizing up the steroid footballer as though she planned to push past him. Knowing Des, I wouldn’t be surprised if she‘d tried.

Rolling my eyes, I turned to the guys behind me with a smile.

“Hey.” The four guys turned their eyes on me and checked me out unabashedly, much the same way Denny did. The tallest of the four smiled at me, welcoming but suggestive.

“Hey what’s up?”

I offered them a careless shrug. “We’re trying to get in but my friend over there lost the invitation.”

“Really? Well you guys could sneak in with us if you want,” the shorter of the four offered enthusiastically. The other three looked as if they’d disowned him right then and there. I smiled my appreciation and the tallest, the obvious group leader, put his arm around my shoulders, leading me in.

It had been a long time since I'd pulled this trick, using what Delma always bragged was feminine charm to get what I wanted. But it had been a long drive, I was tired, and in no mood to deal with anything that was going to ruin my future buzz.

Des, who'd grabbed the nearest guy from the group, gave meathead guy an "I told you so look" and walked into the party with new found satisfaction at being somewhere she usually wasn‘t. To Des, parties like this was about the rush of being somewhere you weren't supposed to be. To me it was just something to get me out of the house and away from Delma and Denny. I could only imagine what it was like to be Lacey who looked terrified when the shiest of the boys, the smallest who had invited us in, pushed her into the house.

We were met with a cloud of smoke, the smell of alcohol, and loud pounding music that made my eardrums pop. Des nodded her head along with the song that vibrated through the house, some remix of a remix of a hip hop song she’d heard once on the car radio. Lacey, true to Des’ word, was at my side, looking anxiously from one side of the room to the other, unsure what to do and why she was there. Ignoring the two of them and the boys I‘d conned into getting us in, though I knew Des and Lacey were smart enough to follow, I walked through the house in search of the kitchen where I knew the drinks would be.

“Hey there ladies, what can I get you?” a bartender wannabe asked with a wink. Des, who was beyond excited at the attention, leaned on the counter, and showed him a flash of cleavage. She’d already picked out the first victim of the night.

“Give me a beer. I drink whatever.” Des said with an eye roll, as though her expertise would impress him in some way.

“Smirnoff Red Vodka,” Lacey mumbled, shaking her hair out only to tuck it behind her ears again.

“Pinot Noir for me.” We all ordered, more than comfortable with out liquor.

We’d been drinking since we’d turned fourteen, sneaking into Lacey’s dad’s liquor cabinet for Des’ birthday that year. Lacey’s father had been away on a business trip and her mother had been out grocery shopping with her next door neighbor Mrs. Helton. Either way, completely unsupervised, it had been Des’ idea to break into the stash. Lacey’d been terrified her parents would found out. “We’ll just pour water in afterwards, no one will ever know,” Des had reasoned, crossing her arms and looking to me for the tie breaker. Eventually we did sneak in our first few glasses of bourbon and whiskey. It tasted awful and stung our throats on the way down but we’d felt so grown up doing it, we just had to pour ourselves another glass. Twenty minutes later, we were throwing up Mrs. Dinngler’s cookies up onto their eggshell carpet. We’d been drinking ever since.

“Sure.” He poured us each our drinks, and we held out the glasses with a smirk. After drinking just plain beer from the bottle or those crappy plastic cups in you bought for ninety-nine cents at the Quick Stop, this was glamour. And then like always, we separated, drinks in hand, to find ourselves the escape we’d been looking for whenever we came to a party.

Cammie Polskin, one of the smart girls in school who came from a nice upper middle class family and had good grades, always said that Des and I were users. We were shameful girls that used boys any which way we liked and that it was wrong of us to use ‘em and boot ‘em. Her preaching, had been going on since grade nine when Des had made out with her best friend’s boyfriend. Still, to Des and me, we weren’t users. We wanted to hook up and the guys we did it with definitely weren’t the kind to fall in love at first sight which was fine since we weren’t looking for anything that lasted anyway.

I walked through the packed bodies of the house, trying not to brush up against the drunker boys as I went along, rating them in my head. Bidding my time until something better came along, I saw Des across the living room, flirting with a muscular blonde beach surfer. She winked as me as he looked around the room, focusing her attention back on him and only him when he was watching her. Flattery. She was going all out tonight and I was annoyed that I might have to work harder to out-show her. I guess our little group thrived on competition, something put in place to remind ourselves that our friendships were a thing of convenience and nothing more. Every night we went out, was another chance to see who looked the best, who got the better looking guy, how far we pushed ourselves before we broke. It was a game of reckless abandonment.

After touring the bottom floor of the two floor house three times, I’d found my candidate. Maybe not a built as Des’ surfer, the boy who I followed patiently up the steps to the second floor was very good looking. His curly black hair looked well kept, he was toned but not steroid big, and had a tooth commercial smile. Hands down, this boy would win me my rivalry if all I had to worry about was the scatter brained surfer.

He closed the door behind him, stumbling as he made his way into a random room. A loud crash soon followed and I opened the door, a look of concern on my face, as I helped him to his feet and guided him to the bed. Inside, I was pleased to have any reason to introduce myself. Looking at the groaning boy, I was excited at how easy this would be.

“Hey there. Are you alright?” His only answer was a grunt as he wiped beads of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He looked like he was about to be sick.

“Here let me get you to the bathroom. Just in case,” I suggested gently, half dragging his body into the bathroom that connected to the left of the room through expensive sliding glass doors. Supporting his weight with my shoulders, I laid him down in the bathtub, which was big enough to be a twin bed at least. He laid back comfortably groaning again against the nausea he was obviously fighting.

Turning my head, I searched quickly for the light switch, knowing the lights would probably be too bright for someone fighting an on coming hangover. The large mirrors that hung in the room reflected and bounced the light about the room cheerily, probably didn’t make what I knew was growing headache feel any better either. Finally finding something to dim things down, though not a switch, I brought the lights down, the annoyed image of rich people working on lighting schemes for potent ional hookups coming to mine. Ridiculous.

“Thanks for,” he stopped suddenly, his hand flying to his mouth. It wasn’t until a few seconds later that he tried again. “for help….” he stopped abruptly again, letting his head fall back onto the head rest of the tub. I shrugged, aggravated that he’d probably puke before I got the chance to make out with him and that I probably wouldn’t try afterwards. Then with a last look at the sweating, gurgling boy, I closed the door behind me, walking farther into posh bedroom.

It was big, at least the size of my room, Delma’s room and the kitchen put together. But then again, that was saying much. It also a boy’s room, obvious from the sports posters on the walls and the massive stereo system that sat in the corner of the room, smaller than the ones displayed downstairs but still impressive. The bed sheets, which were the generic one color type, were crisp and clean and looked at though they’d been put in that morning. Looking at how expensive everything seemed, they probably had been by some Hispanic maid who started the day off this way every morning, cleaning up after rich white folks who never gave her a raise.

Feet aching from my boots, I let my body relax on the bed, enjoying how the memory foam conformed to the contours of my body. The comfortable firmness was heaven on my usually abused back. This was how the other half lived.

And then the door opened. My body jerked in recognition of an intruder and then relaxed again. The memory foam had been too wonderful to really care who it was. The person cleared their throat. I mentally rolled my eyes, deciding to ignore them.

“Hey, I’m looking for my friend Jake…” the boy offered. He seemed worried enough and without looking up I nodded and pointed towards the direction of the bathroom.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, closing to door to the bathroom and leaving me alone in the large room again.

What a waste of a night. It’d been such a bust for the hour and a half drive it took just to get there. There were apparently no rewards, no beating Des, no more alcohol - just the glass of Pinot Noir I’d started off with and finished before meeting bathroom boy.

Des had probably made out with at least four different people by now, the next better looking than the last, in hopes that she would beat me by the time she finished climbing up the hookup later. Lacey, I smiled to myself, was probably freaking out at not being able to find me, fighting off interested drunkards who didn’t know enough by looking at her that “she wasn’t that kind of girl”. Maybe I could lie to Des, tell her I’d made out with the boy before he’d gotten sick, or that I’d found another better candidate all together. Still, if Des brought a better looking guy home, she’d have won, and I’d wouldn’t hear the end of it for weeks. I grimaced, she was bad enough as it was.

Then the bathroom door clicked again. I was still too comfortable to move. I wasn’t until I heard the boy clear his throat again, too close to my head, that I opened a lazy eye lid to glare at him.

“Hey. I just wanted to say thanks for my friend in there. He’s pretty sick. Missed the bowl a few times. Not very pretty,” he admitted with an apologetic smile. He was seated on the edge of the bed, inches away from my head and he was cute. Very cute. “You’re probably sick too huh? You need anything?” He was sober… too sober. He probably wasn’t a drinker and was way too nice to be doing the things I imagined doing with him as I stared at the twenty-something year old actor slash model.

“I’m fine. Just one glass of wine,” I said though the words still sounded thick and slurred. I was tired now but knew he’d jump to the other conclusion.

“Not good with alcohol?”

I almost laughed at the question, imagining how much Des would have bitched if she’d known I’d let one glass of wine get me drunk. She’d practically ostracize me right then and there. Lacey would’ve had no choice but to follow.

“Just tired.” As though to prove my point, I stifled a yawn. He gave a short laugh and then twisted to lie down next to me at what Cammie and Lacey would have agreed was a safe distance.

Laying there, everything seemed quiet. The boy that might or might not have been throwing up in the bathroom couldn’t be heard and the music that had been so loud downstairs was a muffled hum that buzzed absently through the room. It was too funny to imagine the rich people sound proofing their walls.

“So what’s your name?” he asked after the long pause. I smiled to myself but didn’t answer. This was a complicated question. A rule of random hookups was to always lie when and if the question came. Something about this room and this boy made me too tired to lie. “Not much of a talker,“ He said and then after another pause, “don‘t tell me you‘re the kinda girl that holds her friends‘ hair while they puke?”

“Hardly.” My voice was drained of all of the sarcasm I’d heard in my head. Had it been Des or Lacey throwing up in front of me, I would have watched, probably giving them a “you’re an idiot” stare but then said nothing, not mean enough to make it sting the way Des would have. I opened my mouth in reply and couldn’t find my voice.

When had I become this tired? So tired that my voice droned obnoxiously and my tongue felt numb? I could feel my mouth open and close ineffectively, like a fish. The only think that came out were odd short sounds I didn’t understand. I wrinkled my forehead in confusion. The boy seemed to notice my confusion too.

“Hey you okay? You don’t looked so good.“ The bed barely shook as he moved me, my body limp from the sudden tiredness, onto his lap. He opened my eyelids gently and slowly, his frame a blurred outline in the blinding light. He sighed and hugged me closer to his body, before tilting my head up and running his fingers over my lips. My mouth parted instantly.

I vaguely wondered if he would use this to his advantage and kiss me. I wondered if this kind of hookup would count.

“Hey don’t worry, I promise I won’t do anything to ya. I just want to make sure you can breathe. Someone must’ve slipped you a roofie,” he explained as though the silence was a way of asking for an answer. The truth was, I’d been unable to speak since before he’d moved me. Not being able to speak made me confused, like I didn’t know why I couldn’t even though I did. The disorientation only made me want to look at him but my eyelids were suddenly too heavy to force open. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he whispered before I was completely out. It hadn’t been the first time this had happened but the hysteria I felt before fainting was the same.

It must’ve been after noon when I’d woken up, groggy and achy. My tongue felt slimy against the roof of my mouth and reminded me of the metallic taste of blood. My mind, though foggy, was at least working now, different from the long hours that it had spent turning itself on and off, letting me drift in and out of unconsciousness. All of my senses were on overload, colors sharper, smells stronger, sounds louder, my body tingling. My system was rebooting way too fast. It was all too much at once and my head went reeling, everything spinning.

“Hey now, don’t try to do too much too fast. You’ve only been out for twelve hours. Try to sleep,” yesterday’s voice cooed lightly in my ear, it’s breath making me shiver. It’s owner kept playing with my hair, running his fingers through it rhythmically, taming it, pushing it out of my face. It felt familiar. I nearly purred as I faded again slowly.

My second time waking up was easier than the first, starting the brain and then the body. My mind replayed the night over, registering the irony of my bad luck on what was supposed to be a fun night. It then lunged ahead, asking endless questions. How long had I been out? Where were Des and Lacey? Had cute boy kept his promises? What would Delma say? It wasn’t often I didn’t come home. Then the awareness pooled over, my senses coming back slowly from their numb sleep.

“You awake?” he asked softly, caressing my face as though to sooth me. An affirmative noise sounded in the back of my throat, unable to get the words out. “I’ll be right back.” The bathroom door opened and closed twice before he came back, pulling me up against him and pressing a cup to my lips. The water ran down my throat slowly, the way it would through rusty pipes. “Better?” I nodded, finally finding enough strength to open my eyes.

I gasped. I hadn’t expected him to be that close. His brown eyes looked down at me with worry. He offered me a reassuring smile.

“What’s your name?”

“Hunter.” Later I would have told myself that it was the sluggishness of my mind that kept me from lying. But at the moment, he was much too close for me to think of anything clearly.

“Hunter,” he repeated. I liked the way it rolled of his tongue, “it suits you.”

“Yours?”

“Cain. It’s nice to meet you Hunter.”

I smiled at him, enjoying how close we were. There was something about him and his niceness that was almost protective. I thought again about the images that had some to mind yesterday when I’d seen him the first time, and threw them away all together. He was way too nice. It was against the rules, my rules, and he seemed like the type that would definitely cling. Still, there was an odd sense of satisfaction to being in his arms where I felt small and wanted. Being five seven, it wasn’t a feeling I had often.

I inwardly rolled my eyes at my happily-ever-after moment, telling myself to wake up. Rich boys from Portland didn’t like girls like me, not when it isn’t for hooking up anyways. And besides, I didn’t want a relationship. I’d more than seen what relationships could lead to, living with Delma. No. I had to leave and get out fast, before this dreams-can-come-true feeling set in.

“How long was I out?” My voice came out raspier than I’d liked as I tried to pull myself together. Seeing that I was fine to sit up on my own, Cain shifted me onto the bed and off his lap. I ignored the way I immediately missed his arms.

“Eighteen or so hours,” he said. Then seeing my face, “it usually take a full twenty four for the effects to wear off so consider yourself lucky.”

“Crap. What about the owners?” I pushed myself off the bed, fighting off a brief moment of dizziness before going off to look for my boots, which had been taken off sometime during my sleep.

“It’s next to the stereo,” he answered, as he watched me warily, body tensed as though he was ready to catch me in case I buckled. His overly careful behavior only made me want to get out faster. I could take care of myself. I wasn’t made of glass. “Seb doesn’t care if people crash at his house for the next day or two. Most people are too wasted to drive home anyways. His parents are never home.”

I nodded, zipping up my boots noisily. I hadn’t brought a bag and I was beginning to regret it. We didn’t need money, we had boys buy us drinks, didn’t need a cell phone, we were always together, and now that I was pretty sure they’d stranded me, I needed it, all of it.

“My friends… I don’t know how to get back.”

“I think they came in here last night looking for you. Two girls right? One real short and the other one a blond with skimpy clothes? They came to take you home.” I opened my mouth to yell at him. It was because of him that I was now broke and ride-less but he beat me to it. “They looked trashed okay? Like they could barely drive and I promised you that I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Besides, they wouldn’t have been able to take care of you. Date rape drugs are pretty serious okay? I can drive you wherever you need to go now but sorry for wanting to make sure you didn’t die.” I didn’t like the way his baritone voice sounded when he was defensive.

I sighed, I wasn’t used to not fighting. Between Delma, Denny, and Des, every word was a fight waiting to ensue, another laugh at my expense. Taking a breath I tried again.

“How’s your friend?” I asked, not knowing what else to say in order to appease him.

“He’s fine. He’s been sleeping like a baby next to the toilet bowl,” he answered with a reluctant smile. “Listen, I meant it about giving you a ride. You need me to take you anywhere?”

I offered him a smirk and shook my head. “I’m a big girl, I can find my own way home. I’ll see you around Cain.” And then, before I could stop myself, I kissed him. It was quick, only a second or two but it was enough to know his lips were soft and warm. I offered him a smile and then walked towards the door, ignoring him like I would anyone after a hook up.

“Hunter wait.” I forced my legs to keep walking away instead of giving in to the images that kept looping through my head. Yummy images of dirty snogging sessions. I refused to look back.

“Wow drinking sucks,” the familiar voice of bathtub boy called as I opened the door. “Wait, was that the girl that helped me yesterday?”

“Yup.”

“Hey! Thanks!” he yelled after me as I closed the door shut. Maybe the night hadn’t been such a waste after all.

I made my way down the stairs avoiding wine glasses and Styrofoam cups. The house that had seemed so amazing yesterday, today looked like a complete mess, not much different from my house, just much bigger. But there was no faking the quiet suburban neighborhood. Walking down the empty streets at night, there was nothing to be afraid of, only the mostly Caucasian families, eating dinner with their two point five children, discussing how football practice and cheerleading went while the dog - Sparky - barked outside for attention.

It must’ve been so easy to live in a place like this. All the houses were the same ivory color. All the people had the same life experiences. Where was the danger in that? I shrugged off the comfort of the burbs, annoyed at its ridiculous ease. What was the fun in being sheltered? Girls like me didn’t belong in places like this and I didn’t intend to stay much longer.

I crossed the street again, fruitlessly trying to find a pay phone in the middle of suburbia. Finally ending up in front of an elementary school, where an old and almost broken down pay phone stood, I dialed the house collect, hoping Delma would leave Denny’s oily skin alone long enough to pick up the phone. Knowing Delma’s physical needs, the odds were more than against me. Then, after the fifth ring, the phone was answered. I sighed my relief.

“Who’s this?” asked Denny’s breathless voice.

“Denny put Delma on the phone.”

“She’s not here. She’s buying cigs,” he said, huffing between every few words.

“Denny I’m serious. Put Delma on the phone.”

He moaned and I pulled the phone away from my ear in disgust.

“God damn it Denny! Put Delma on the phone now or I’ll go the police and report you for sexual harassment,” I bluffed. If I put Denny in jail, Delma would throw me out. Putting up with the leech was better than being homeless.

“I… oh god,” he moaned again, “I barely touched you.” He breathed.

It wasn’t hard to imagine what Denny and Delma were doing while I was trying to get myself home.

“I’m pretty sure the cops won’t care how much you touched a sixteen year old girl. Only that you did,” I reasoned, seething on the inside at the image of waking up with Denny on top of my before kneeing him, throwing him out of my room, and locking the door.

“Fuck,” I could tell he wasn’t swearing because of Delma this time. “Delma, Hunter.” He handed the phone off quickly. I could hear the changing of hands as she pulled the phone cord closer and put the phone to her ear.

“What the hell you want?”

“I’m stranded. Pick me up.”

“Tell your friends to get you.” I sighed. I didn’t know their numbers. They always called me. Not the other way around. I shifted from one foot to the other, hoping the call wouldn’t disconnect before she finally conceded.

“I can’t. Come get me.”

“Do I look like a fucking car service to you?”

“Come get me and I’ll clean the apartment,” I bargained. There was a pause as she thought it over,

“Where are you?”

“Portland.”

“What the hell are you doing in Portland?”

“Does it matter? Come get me.”

“Fine. Portland mall.” Was all she said before she hung up. I sighed, the Portland mall was at least an hour walk from Southeast Portland. In my boots, I probably wouldn’t make it in the hour and a half drive it took to get there. Still, I’d made it there in an hour and forty five minutes, my feet killing me so much I sat on the curb and took off my boots. It left me with an entire hour of waiting until Delma parked Denny’s rusty red pickup at the curb. I didn’t bother to yell at her for finishing up with Denny before coming to pick me up.

“Get in,” she commanded, completely furious. I opened the door to the passenger seat and slammed it behind me. If anyone had the right to be furious, it was me. I buckled myself in and stared out the window, knowing the worst part hadn’t even begun. “What the hell is the matter you? I was freaking busy! I told you when you moved in not to piss me off when I was busy didn’t I? Dumb kid. I never should’ve taken you in. Should’ve just let you rot I the streets after your stupid parents died. God I hate you and that stupid mother of yours. You even looking the same. Same brown hair. Same green eyes. Think you’re the shit don’t ya kid? You’re nothing. You’re worthless. You wouldn’t even be breathing if it wasn’t for me.”

I grit my teeth together as hard as I could, refusing to let her get to me. I could almost see the same satisfied smile she wore when she know she’d gotten a rise out of me. Delma was vicious, and went for the kill when she smelled blood. I ordered my muscles to relax. Delma was glaring at me with the beginnings of a smile, waiting for me to break.

“That’s right worthless. A complete waste of air. You’re annoying. If you didn’t do the house crap and pay the bills I wouldn’t even keep you around. You remember that. I’m only keeping you as long as I need you around.” Then she threw her head back and laughed, her chain smoker voice making it more like a cackle.

“Shut it Delma.” I muttered tonelessly.

“What’s the matter princess? Want a hug? Want your mommy?” She taunted, barely looking at the road as she narrowed her sinister stare at me.

I glared at her at the mention of my mom. “I said shut it Delma. What’s got you so mad? The fact that I’m prettier and you’re than you or that Denny keeps trying to sneak into my room when you’re sleeping,“ I spat back, knowing she’d probably kick me out as soon as the truck was parked outside the house. If she didn’t throw me out in the middle of the road that is. My mind immediately looked for places I could stay. School basement, one if my old make out partners who’d been dumb enough to leave their numbers, even though I’d never called them back. I knew better than to expect anything from Lacey and Des.

“Fuck you little girl. You’re screwed just like me and you’ll never be anything. Trash just like me Hunny,‘ she crowed, the car zigzagging jerkily as she drove.

She was drunk, I then realized. She only ever bitched this long if she was wasted. She wasn’t even looking at the road anymore.

“Watch the road,” I warned, my adrenaline kicking in. The conversation we’d been having completely vanishing as the car continued to swerve below me.

“Don’t freaking tell me what to do. You bratty kid.” I could feel the car jerk from left to right and she started laughing at me again, stopping only when a hiccup shook her body. She let go of the wheel, then took it back again after each one.

“Let me drive,” I suggested nervously, my voice not my own.

“No! This is my car! I’m gonna freaking drive it!”

Feeling the car jerk too far into the left lane, I reached for the wheel. Delma yelled at me but I was too distracted to really listen.

I pulled the car back to the right. “Get off my car!” And then as suddenly as I’d corrected the car, she’d pulled the wheel back and we were sailing into the front bumpers of a blue Toyota. I only saw the surprised face of the man behind the wheel a second before impact. I closed my eyes as the car began to spin, the motion made me sick and it was then that my head hit the glass. Hard. The last thought I had was if Des really had beat me that night. And then I was knocked out again for the third time - that I remembered - in the last twenty four hours.

Thanks for reading! Please review and let me know what you thought of it! I’d really appreciate it. Till next time.