Intertwined

Eleven

Cassidy

After every town celebration, there would be a moment when every teenager or young adult in the town would raid their parent's liquor cabinets, use their fake IDs,  or find any other means to throw a big party. As someone who grew up in the town all my life, I never seemed to shy away from the event before; it was one of the only times I could actually spend time with friends.

Tonight was different, though. Instead of catching up with long-lost friends and getting too drunk that Beckett had to drive me home, I still felt lonely and I found myself searching the plains for his red F-250. I was silly for wishing he would show up out of the blue, and save me from watching every high school couple I knew - including Avery and Josh - make out for the foreseeable future. 

If Houston were here at this party, he would make incredibly dumb dad jokes, mocking the party, and also make me laugh at every single one.

I downed the shot of tequila as I watched my best friend fight once again with her boyfriend, the bonfire flames illuminating their faces. As I watched the heated fight, I pondered the thought of pouring myself another shot from the tequila Brett Miller raided from his extravagantly rich parents.

Before I could ponder the thought any longer, Avery fell into the camp chair next to me, heaving a big sigh and her curled blonde hair now tousled from the stress of the fight. Avery sighed, "Men are so stupid and immature. Cassidy, please tell me: are men always this immature?"

"Why are you asking me?" I asked, pointing daggers directly at Josh who was now sulking in the shadows of the fire. "I only dated one person, and the relationship only lasted my first semester of college."

"You know who I'm talking about," Avery replied as she drank out of the beer that she snagged from the cooler. "Houston. It looks like you've wanted him at this party since you got here."

I didn't want to answer her questions. Instead, I rolled my eyes and asked, "Can we go home?"

Avery countered, "Is Houston mature?"

"Mature?" I scoffed, forcing myself not to imagine Houston as a mature, sensible person who wore a suit and talked like your average lawyer. "The only mature thing about him is that he hates parties, but somehow he makes the most of whatever the situation is. He makes stupid dad jokes that are corny and makes me laugh. He's always grumpy, spends all his money at the bar, and talks like your average oil field worker."

Despite all his faults, I would never change a damn thing about him.

"So men don't mature at all?" Avery questioned with a raised eyebrow, aiming her icy gaze at Josh sipping on his beer.

I nodded in reply, then continued, "Houston is not mature at all, but I don't think any of that really matters anyway. I hate to say this, but I really like him and I want him - bad."

All Avery did was scowl at me, and then finally added, "And? Are you going to do anything about it?"

"I don't know," I said dejectedly, sighing at the flames of the fire now billowing into the late-night sky. "We never seemed to get the best time. Every time something happens between us, something inevitably goes wrong, and then we pretend that what we experienced didn't even happen."

In reply, she smacked me in the arm with an empty beer bottle, and a look on her face that I knew all too well that she knew something. I exclaimed, "Ow, that hurt. What do you know?"

"I know that Houston likes you, and you like him, Cass," Avery said as if she foresaw the whole scene before me. "I know y'all are being extremely dumb to the point, that I might have to lock you into a room until you both give in."