No matter how much she runs, Laura is stuck in an endless loop of her past. With a transfer of school and a curly-haired boy who seems to be wherever she goes, it's a matter of time she realizes that her universe ceases at the sight of him-and runni...
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I HATED THE AFTERMATHOF DRINKING.
It wasn't just the gross puking and the headaches. Matter of fact, the last and the only time I had gotten drunk was by mistake, and I had ended up taking it commendably well. Headaches were annoying, yes, but my body never decided to throw up. It was with Seb and Liza, of course—and the picture was clear like day: we were sprawled all around her patio in the late summer breeze, and it was her idea in general, to get drunk.
She never said it, but it was one of the early last times we hung out before I moved—and she was just looking for ways to make it special for me. She never said most of the things, but it was all on her face.
The golden memory didn't end there and then. Once we were clearly inebriated and out of our minds, I had hit Sebastian with the baseball I found lying across her garden so hard that he was unconscious for a good minute.
All these memories were gold and silver, dipped in honey—only until I got involved. Adding me to the picture was like rubbing salt to an open wound, and it stung.
It stung mercilessly, and made me want to erase every thought that could fill my brain until I could no longer breathe. In a way, it was poison clogging up my veins—and I could only last so long before falling apart in a ghastly form.
And when partying was mentioned on the table during lunch, I declined before things could go further. Almost everybody's eyes shot up, curiosity evident unanimously. Only Evan's eyes stayed exactly where they were, on his phone screen. He didn't move a millimeter.
Xavier saw his expressions, which were both a mixture of disgust and boredom. "You're coming and have no excuse, Evan."
He continued to look pissed, but didn't utter a word. When I met his eye, he just sighed. Xavier motioned towards me, before grabbing fries from Stella's plate. At this point, it was just for annoying her—I could get paid and still wouldn't consume something that tasted like that.
"And what about you, Laura?"
"I'm not interested, sorry," I gave him a look, but he just smiled before messing his hair all over. "Can't stand alcohol?"
"That's not the case."
"Don't force her," Evan said sharply, before dropping his gaze to the floor. "If you do want to come, Edwards, I'll be there."
I rolled my eyes. That is all I had been wanting to hear, and more. How did that help in any way? "That's really reassuring, but I would rather stay home and do other things."
He could see through my sarcasm right away, no matter how dry it seemed to get at times. He proceeded to give me a side-eye, and then glare. "I'm not being funny—I dislike them as well, we could keep each other entertained. Besides, what are the things you have to do?"
Entertained? In what sense, exactly?
Don't force her, he had said. I scoffed. "Study, idiot. I cannot study in a room full of people and loud music."
