Southern Boy Charm | ✓

Chapter 11

When we finally arrive at the bonfire, it's dark outside. The location that they chose is close to the train tracks. So close that when a train passes by I can feel the wind whip my hair and it gets so loud that I can barely think. They spend no time getting set-up. They move like a well-oiled machine; each person having their own share. Nick and Zach light the fire and Sammy and Blair unload the chairs from Max's truck. I can tell that Bruce is on drink duty by the cases of beer he unloads from his car, throwing a can to each of us.

When he gets to me I shake my head no. Drinking isn't really my forte. I don't like the idea of not being in complete control of my thoughts and actions. I do enough stupid things without something clouding my head.

I tried it once back home, when Jack had successfully broken into Bethany's parents' liquor cabinet and scored an expensive bottle of scotch for us. I was curious about drinking and I didn't want to look like a wuss in front of Jack, so I took a shot with the rest of the group. All I remembered is this fog, clouding my head, clouding my senses, and this feeling of lightness. It was fun and freeing, that is until I spent the other half of the night sprawled out on the floor of Bethany's bathroom, puking my guts out. Nothing says sexy like projectile vomiting in front of your crush.

Nick doesn't seem to give it a second though before nimbly catching the drink from Bruce and downing the can. He doesn't seem to have a single regard on how he is supposed to drive home after. It isn't until then that I notice that I'm the only one without a can in their hands, yet everyone took a separate car. They take large swigs, drinking for the sole purpose of getting drunk, I can feel panic rise in me as I realize that unless they plan to turn the bonfire into a campground, everyone here will be driving home intoxicated.

"Nick," I say, nudging his shoulder. "How do you guys plan to get home?"

He swats me away, his speech slurred. "Stop worrying."

And I try to take his advice but I can't, because I'm a worrier and therefore worrying is what I do best. They each throw their empty cans onto the train tracks as they finish and grab another, and I suddenly realize that I'm the only one here concerned with worrying at all.

The night continues how you would expect any group of sloppily drunk teenagers to act. There is a lot of giggling, most courtesy of Sammy as she presses against Nick, leaning her head on his shoulders. They all share embarrassing stories from high school, their excitement for the upcoming town festival, which is supposed to have some semi-famous country singer perform, and little things like annoying parents and needing a new cell phone. They remind me of my friends back home in a lot of ways, always cracking jokes, usually at someone else's expense, but they're different in a lot of ways too. Here it seems fake, in a way, like everyone has characters that they need to fill, like no on can truly be themselves.

Like for example: Bruce is the group clown. He's always the one cracking the jokes, but when it comes to the serious topics like the future and everyone's dreams, he's silent. Or Sammy and Blair. They fill the stereotypical girl role; their only interests are boys, fashion and gossip. But I can see the interest in Blair's eyes when the boys talk about last nights basketball game, but still she stays radio silent. I don't believe that they can be as one-dimensional as they make themselves appear to be. There's something more to them, there has to be, but it's almost like they're too afraid to show it.

Nick, however, is different. There's not a single one-dimensional thing about him. He's silent most of the time, and it feels like even though he's listening and sitting right there in front of you, he's not truly there. I feel like I could study him for years and still not have a single clue on what's going on in his head.

"What about you Leighton, do you have any special guy back home waiting for you?" Blair's on to her two favorite topics, boys and gossip, and I can tell that she enjoys having someone new here who she can extract for information. I hesitate before answering, which is rookie mistake number one for girls like Blaire. Sammy's interest is suddenly piqued, and instantly they are on me, prying eyes digging into mine.