Chapter 5 THE PARTY

ASHER

Music thudded through the walls of Hayden's house, bass vibrating beneath my feet and straight to my ribs. It was a song I barely recognized but one that people apparently enjoyed as bodies pressed together on the dance floor, gyrating to the music. Or maybe they just wanted to dance to anything.

Laughter and shouted conversations overlapped. Someone pressed a red plastic cup into my hand without asking. It smelled like a mixture of cheap beer and something sweet.

The air was thick with perfume, sweat and the sharp bite of alcohol.

The entire thing felt claustrophobic rather than fun. Do people really do this every weekend? Willingly?

I took a sip of the contents in my cup and winced, the burn familiar, grounding. Somewhere down the hall, a door slammed and cheers erupted. I pretended not to know what was happening behind it.

I leaned back against the chair in the corner I was sitting in, cup warm in my hand. I couldn't help but feel that strange mix of belonging and distance-surrounded by everyone, yet oddly alone.

Without meaning to, my gaze flew to the corner of the living room.

Where Elliot was standing with his friends.

He was leaning against the opposite wall, half-shadowed, half-lit by the flickering party lights. A drink hung loose in his hand, untouched. His friends were talking around him but he stayed silent. Not contributing.

When his eyes flicked up-out of habit, instinct, whatever it was-I met his gaze.

He looked away.

He'd been doing that all night.

Every time our gazes almost met, he turned his head. Looked at the floor. The wall. Anything but me. Like the memory of that night, the memory of me seeing him break, was something he wanted to forget. Or something he wanted me to forget.

Unfortunately for him, it was ingrained in my head.

Embarrassment, I realized.

He was embarrassed.

I hadn't expected that. I'd expected defiance. Hatred. Anger. Another challenge.

Not this quiet avoidance.

"Hey," Sofia said, tugging lightly on my sleeve as she settled in beside me.

I looked down at her. She smiled up at me, bright and easy, like nothing in the world weighed on her shoulders.

"You okay?" she asked. "You've been staring into space for, like, five minutes."

"Yeah," I said automatically. "It's just... really loud in here."

She laughed. "That's kind of the point."

She leaned in to kiss me, her lips warm, familiar. The scent of her perfume, sweet and floral, wrapped around me. I returned her kiss because that was what I was supposed to do. Because this was normal. Safe.

Sofia talked about the party she wanted us to go to next weekend, about midterms, about a professor she hated. I nodded at the right moments, laughed when she laughed. I was there, but part of me wasn't.

I was wildly aware of Elliot's presence across the room.

I didn't let myself look at him again.

After a while, Sofia frowned. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom before the line gets insane. Don't disappear on me."

"I won't," I said.

She pecked me on the lips before slipping into the crowd.

I watched her go.

Then, as if my eyes had a mind of their own, I glanced at the corner.

His friends were still there, laughing and drinking, but Elliot himself wasn't.

I told myself I didn't care where he had gone off to.

I was here with one person only. Sofia. That was who my attention needed to be focused on.

Not Elliot and his sad eyes.

Fifteen minutes passed. Then twenty.

I waited for Sofia to come back, getting more and more bored every second that passed. Surely, the line at the bathroom wasn't that long?

I debated leaving but I'd promised Sofia I wasn't going to disappear and so, I was going to stay. Even if it felt like the music was killing off my brain cells every second.

The music shifted. People came and went. Someone spilled a drink near my shoes. Another vomited half a foot away from me.

I moved to the side, checked my phone.

No message.

I waited another ten minutes before unease settled in properly, curling low in my gut.

I called Sofia.

It rang. And rang.

No answer.

I frowned, pulling the phone away from my ear.

I tried again. Nothing.

I gritted my teeth, starting to get irritated. Where the hell was she? And why did she abandon me at this party she forced me to come to?

I decided to look for her.

"I swear to god, if she's getting high with her friends..." I muttered to myself.

I moved through the house, pushing past bodies, scanning faces. I finally found one of Sofia's friends near the kitchen.

"Hey," I said, raising my voice over the music. "Have you seen Sofia?"

She blinked at me, clearly drunk, then shook her head. Even that move looked like it cost her a lot. "No," she slurred, "Thought she was with you."

My stomach tightened.

I turned away, heart picking up pace. The music thinned the further I went, replaced by muffled laughter behind closed doors.

I found another one of Sofia's friends in the hallway where the bedrooms were located. He was leaning against a wall, a lit cigarette hanging from his fingertips.

I approached him. "Matthew, do you know where Sofia is?"

His eyes widened in fear when he saw me. As if he wasn't expecting to see me there.

A sinking suspicion settled in my gut. "Where is she?"

He wouldn't meet my eyes, shifting on his feet.

He hesitated. "I– look, I don't want any drama, man."

"Tell me," I commanded sharply.

He swallowed. "Down the hall. In one of the bedrooms." He pointed at the last bedroom down the hall.

I didn't thank him.

I didn't think about what she might be doing there. I just walked.

Each step down the hallway made the feeling in my gut worse. A certainty settled in, unwelcome and undeniable.

Whatever I was about to see, it wasn't going to be good.

I stopped in front of the last door.

For half a second, I considered turning around.

Then I pushed it open.

The room was dim, lit only by a bedside lamp. Clothes were scattered across the floor. I recognized Sofia's red crop top as one of them.

Sofia froze.

She was on the bed, breath hitching, hair disheveled, her perfect makeup smeared. Her eyes widened, guilt flooding her expression so quickly it was almost impressive. She would do well in acting.

"Asher–"

Elliot straightened slowly beside her, shirtless, skin flushed. A blanket covered the lower half of his body. I didn't have to check to know he was naked underneath it.

I expected him to react in a multitude of ways. Maybe shock. Or guilt. Or even defiance.

But I should've known Elliot wasn't a sane person. He smiled instead.

That fucker smiled. Like this was funny to him.

He didn't look embarrassed. Or startled. He looked proud.

"Well," he said lightly. "This is awkward."

Something inside me went cold.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I said, my voice dangerously calm.

Sofia scrambled off the bed, fully naked and crouched to pick her clothes off the floor. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean-"

"We're done," I said coldly. I didn't look at her as I did. I kept my gaze on Elliot's smug face.

I heard Sofia gasp.

Elliot rose from the bed, shoving the blanket away. I was proud of myself for not looking down and keeping my gaze squarely on his face.

"Get dressed," I added flatly. "And get out."

Sofia hesitated, eyes flicking between us, then nodded rapidly. She clutched her clothes with shaking hands and rushed past me without another word.

The door clicked shut behind her.

Elliot shrugged, looking utterly unbothered as he ran his fingers through his messy blonde hair. The twinkle in his eyes was visible even from here. It was almost as if this was fun for him.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," he said. "It's not my fault she wanted something better."

I laughed sharply.

"Better?" I echoed.

He stepped closer, eyes bright, unabashed in his nakedness. "Someone less like a perfect robot. Someone who actually feels something."

My hands curled into fists.

I charged forward. I continued until I was close enough to see every smug line of his expression. For a moment, I imagined my fist connecting with his jaw. Imagined wiping that stupid smug expression off his face.

Elliot looked like he was daring me to. He lifted his chin in defiance, that annoying smirk still on his face.Like he enjoyed watching me unravel.

I stopped. And smiled.

"I feel sorry for you," I said.

That threw him.

He tilted his head, brows knitting. "What?"

"I feel sorry for you," I repeated, softer now. "Because you get a kick out of ruining other people's relationships. Out of stealing other people's easy girlfriends. And that's because you don't know what it's like to have one. Because nobody actually wants you."

His smile faltered.

"You're self-destructive, Elliot," I added. "You're doing all these, thinking you're hurting everyone else around you but all you're doing is hurting yourself. And you know what the worst part is?" I stepped closer to him until we were toe to toe. "The worst part is you're too blind to see it."

Heat flooded Elliot's cheeks, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it ached.

"Nobody wants to get involved with you," I continued, my voice steady, cutting. "Nobody wants to stay. And you know why?"

Silence stretched between us.

"Because you're a terrible human being."

Something dark flashed across his face. Anger, maybe. Or maybe it was fear.

I stepped back, disgust settling in where anger had been.

"You win this round," I muttered. "Enjoy it."

I turned and walked out before he could respond.

The music swallowed me whole as I made my way back through the party, but it all felt distant now. Muffled, unreal. My chest was tight, my hands were shaking.

Whatever this was between Elliot and me, whatever had just started, it had crossed to something dangerous. But I knew one thing for certain.

This wasn't over.

Not even close.