Chapter Twelve (Part 4)

I hate this.

My eyes swerved around awkwardly as I sat there on the couch, trying to block out the sound of the speakers behind me which boomed pop music loudly enough that I thought my head might implode. Teenagers were scattered all over the place: talking, laughing, dancing, making out, getting high on booze. So this is what real parties are made of; groups of incorrigible idiots gathered to make a mess of what they had left of their precious lives.

“Hey, how you holding up?”I grabbed hold of Nancy and Drew, pulling them onto the couch. They’d gone to get themselves a few cokes, and one for me as well but all they’d returned with was empty hands. I guess all this party sported was alcohol.

“You two don’t ever leave me again till the end of the night,” I murmured. Drew laughed and pulled me close into a comforting hug.

“You’ll be fine.”

“I feel nauseous. This place is too crowded for my liking.”

I guess what I’d said had activated a little piece of information in their brains as both Nancy and Drew looked at each other in worry.

“Do you need some air?”

Realizing what they were thinking, I shook my head. “It’s not as bad as before guys. I’m fine now. It’s just…” My voice broke away when I saw a bunch of guys eyeing me from across the room. This made me cross my legs together tighter. “I didn’t realize this is what a party would be like.” Annoyance sluiced through me and I snapped, “Where the heck is Jensen anyways?”

“Why do you ask?” Drew’s voice held hints of amusement in it.

“So I could kick his sorry butt for inviting me,” I grumbled.

“Speak of the devil…”

I followed Nancy’s gaze and saw Jensen weaving his way through the place towards us. He actually looked pretty good himself. Ironically enough, his outfit was matching to mine – black jeans, and a silver full sleeve shirt which he’d folded up to make it look more fashionable. His hair was untidy, strands of it falling over his eyes which glinted happily upon seeing me.

“Hey, you came,” he said, that familiar grin lighting up his face. If he had any thoughts about my outfit, he decided not to show it. He didn’t even look me up and down which most of the guys had done when I’d stepped into the house. Why did that bother me?

The End

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