Page 5 of Beg for It

CHAPTER FIVE

BLAIR

This is either a great decision or an awful one.

The verdict is still pending.

“Come on, Bee, loosen up a little.” Josh gives my shoulders a half-assed massage as we walk down the amber-lit street to the bustling bar on the corner.

Part of me feels like our parents are going to pop out of the nearest trash can.

My fear isn’t totally unfounded. Junior year, I’d tried to sneak out to a house party after a week of begging our mother to let me go.

I’d almost made it all the way to the party, walking through Valencia Hernandez’s neighbor’s lawn, when a pair of headlights blinded me from the driveaway.

Mom’s bright white Range Rover loomed menacingly, and I almost threw up out of pure shock (that and the two mini bottles of vodka I’d chugged, courtesy of Michelle).

My friends had sprinted away while I stood there literally like a deer in headlights.

I’d been quietly delivered back home, reprimanded, and lectured about the damage alcohol and smoke would have on dehydrating my skin and polluting my hair right before the upcoming pageant contest.

It always came back down to my image.

Josh grabs my face with both hands, and I startle back.

“Stop freaking out.”

His unwavering gaze nudges the ball lodged in the back of my throat.

“Alright, alright.” I push his hands aways and fluff my hair. “I’m fine.”

I take the next few minutes to clear my head and attempt to shed the anxiety lacing my lungs, replacing it with false confidence. I try to imagine myself as the Blair Hanes I want to be, not the one I’m told to be.

The bar smells like beer, fries, and a tinge of Buffalo sauce. It is already decked out for Halloween—cobwebs strung from the rafters, a skeleton propped in the corner by the dartboard, and little glowing pumpkins littered here and there. Even the bouncer is wearing an apron covered in fake blood.

There is never any escape from Halloween in a small town like ours.

“IDs,” the bouncer requests in a gruff voice, not looking up from his phone as he holds out his hand.

“Come on, Peter, you don’t think I’m twenty-one?”

Josh isn’t twenty-one. Neither am I for that fact, which makes me all the twitchier. Everyone in town knows that Old Spur is the one place anyone can get into, no matter how crap your fake ID is, but that doesn’t make me feel any better since I’ve never tried to get in before.

My plastic ID is slippery between my sweaty fingers.

The guy, Peter, looks up and immediately drops the asshole act as he claps Josh on the back.

“Dude, I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Parents’ annual Halloween bash. You know the drill.”

“Right, right.” He nods his head before stamping the inside of Josh’s wrist with a horseshoe symbol—not even bothering to check his ID. “That mean you’re not dipping to Riley’s tomorrow night?”

“Never say never,” he shrugs.

“Seriously?” I drawl.

It is one thing to sneak away tonight, but trying to escape the event where our mother plans to parade us around as her prized accomplishments? No freaking way.

“Blair?” Peter’s gaze slides to me, and his eyes widen as though he can’t believe the sight in front of him, before landing back on Peter. “Holy shit, dude, you got your sister out?”

I give a hesitant smile.

I have no idea who he is.

I try wracking my brain, but either this guy has undergone a serious glow up or I really haven’t met him before—which would be valid if he is just some random dude from one of the lower grades.

Peter takes my wrist and flips it over, pushing up the sleeve of my sweater to place the black stamp on the inside. He totally ignores the fake ID in my hand.

“Have fun, guys.”

He waves us in, and I stumble behind Josh, feeling a little discombobulated but relieved.

The bar is loud and packed to the brim. A quick glance around the room shows a decent number of familiar faces from high school. I have no doubt the people I don’t recognize are either underage high school seniors or people who graduated from the local public school.

“Joshy!” A high-pitched feminine voice cuts through the country rock music.

Josh grabs my hand as he weaves us through the crowd to a group settled in a booth that has a prime view of the entire bar. I easily recognize everyone sitting down as a close friend from his grade, including the owner of the voice that called out earlier, Marley Avix.

If Marley is here, that means—

“Oh my God, Blair?”

Michelle Avix sidles up to the booth with a glass of what I assume to be vodka soda—it’s always been her drink of choice since she started stealing liquor from her parents for the Fall Fling sophomore year.

Her smile is bright, hair perfectly straight even with the humidity in the bar, and her skirt is an inch too short.

I can’t help but grin. She hasn’t changed a bit.

“Hey, Michey.”

She drops her drink on the table and pulls me into a quick hug before stepping back and giving me a lengthy appraisal from head to toe.

“Bitch. I never would have bet money on you showing up here. I’ve known you since Pre-K, and this is the first time you’ve set foot anywhere outside of your house on Halloweekend.” She pins her stare on Josh. “What tricks did you pull to make this happen?”

“Nothing. Guess she just loves me more.” He shrugs, picking up the pitcher of beer from the table and pouring himself a glass.

“Ugh.” She rolls her eyes and grabs my hand. “Come on, we’re sitting in the next booth over.”

I pick up her forgotten drink from the table as she squeezes us past Josh. The glass is so full it almost spills in the process, so I drop my lips to the rim to take a quick swig, preventing it from sloshing everywhere.

Ew. Yup.

Vodka soda.

Might even be a double or triple, with that strength.

“Guys! Look who I found.”

Michelle wraps both hands around my arm and pulls me close, showing me off like a cat that got the canary. The group seated in the booth look up and then do an almost comedic double take.

“Fuck off. Is that Blair Hanes, or do my eyes deceive me?” D’Andre shoots up in record time, wrapping his muscular arms around my waist and lifting me a solid foot off the ground.

I feel some of the vodka soda go sloshing over my knuckles, but not even I can stop the force that is D’Andre Mac, former basketball captain of Almont Prep and soon-to-be captain of his college team, if rumors are to be believed. I’m surprised to see him here since they’re currently in peak season.

Speaking of…

My eyes flit over the rest of the booth, clocking the other four individuals seated.

From best to worst, there is Tess Li, former band captain and D’Andre’s long-term girlfriend.

David Hall, former student council president and valedictorian.

Brett Fordham, ex-football captain and Michelle’s on-again,off-again boyfriend since middle school.

And finally, Riley Manning, ex-lacrosse captain and my ex-boyfriend.

It seems the only person missing is Lisa Quinn, Michelle’s other half.

D’Andre lowers me back to the ground and slips into the booth, scooching over to pat the leather beside him.

“Take a seat.”

I squeeze onto the squeaky leather, grateful to not be forced into sitting beside Riley. I go to slide the vodka soda back to Michelle, but she just shakes her head and pushes it back my way.

“You have it, babe. I’m already a few deep.”

It isn’t my drink of choice, but I am going to need something with Riley around. I take a deep gulp, not bothering to hide my expression. Everyone here knows I’m not the biggest drinker, especially hard stuff like this.

“Blair, surprised to see you out for Halloween.” Brett lifts his chin in my direction. He hasn’t changed much either; still has that All-American classic jock look. I think he is gunning for head of his fraternity, if memory serves me right from the last time Michelle and I chatted.

I throw my thumb behind me, gesturing to the other booth. “Josh snuck us out.”

“Your parents are unreal. Can’t believe you still have to sneak out all these years later.”

Riley lets out a judgmental scoff. “If they’re still this bad now, you can imagine what it was like trying to sneak into her place when we were dating.”

The table laughs, and I force myself to join in.

The last thing I want is to get onto the topic of Riley and me. I still receive the offhand drunk text from him asking for us to get back together. I need to switch the focus for I get sucked back in.

“David, I didn’t think you’d be in town.” I smile at him, directing everyone to follow suit with their gaze.

David is the only one of us who went to college out of state, and I’ve never been that close to him.

His friendship has primarily been with the guys, and I’d turned a blind eye to most of the questionable stuff they got up to in high school.

David was always smart about covering up their corrupt deeds, and I’d figured the less I knew, the less crap I’d feel about never doing anything to stop them.

“All my exams were last week, so I thought I’d make the drive for Trent’s party since Michelle said he was hosting it at the old barn house with the corn maze.”

“The old barn house?”

That is different.

Trent has been hosting the most outlandish Halloween parties since we were in high school.

His family owns half the town, so he always gets away with whatever he does.

Normally, he throws the Halloween party at his parents’ place on the hill, not that I’ve ever been able to go, but I’ve heard the stories and seen the pictures. Trent’s parties are legendary.

“Oh my God, yes!” Michelle slaps her hand on the table, causing the drinks to shake with her sudden movement.

I pick mine up to save it from spillage and take another healthy sip.

Michelle’s grin is full of unbridled excitement. “You have to come tomorrow night, girl. Trent is going all out since Rachel broke up with him. It’s going to be a total rager. Please!”

“It was hard enough for Josh to get me out tonight. You know my mom is going to have her hawk eyes on me tomorrow. There’s no way I can swing it.”

She pouts with dramatic puppy dog eyes, whining, “But Blaiiiiir.”

“Miiiiich,” I echo back.

I want to go. God, I want to go. A party at the old barn house? That would make up for all the years I had to skip. I just can’t see a way to make it work. Not unless I actually go through with the whole fainting idea—and I don’t have the balls for that.

Ugh. Sometimes, I hate how passive I can be.

“You’ve got to be fucking with me.” Brett’s gaze turns to black holes, and a sneer mars his lips.

My stomach bottoms out, old memories poking at the base of my skull with the sudden change in his demeanor. The sourness only intensifies when Riley lets out a disgruntled groan to match, his biceps flexing and eyes narrowing.

“What, babe?” Michelle places a hand on Brett’s forearm.

“Evil just waltzed in like he has a fucking right to be here.”

My heart pounds against my ribs at the nickname Brett uses for his stepbrother.

Michelle scans the bar, rolling her eyes and letting out a disgusted tsk when she spots the guy in question. “Whatever, just ignore him. Everyone else will.”

“Unless his crazy friends decide to stir shit up,” Riley barks.

The leather seat of the booth dips as Tess shifts to get on her knees and peer over the seats behind us. “Chill the testosterone, guys. He only brought Evan.”

“See.” Michelle pats Brett’s forearm rhythmically. “It’s just him and the puppy, no guard dogs.”

“If he comes over here—”

“We fuck him up.” Riley finishes Brett’s sentence with a look of pure malice.

“Yo, Tweedledee, Tweedledum. Do I have to remind you assholes that the last time you fucked with him, Bash cracked several of your ribs and almost blew out your knees? This isn’t some abandoned parking lot; we’re in the middle of a bar.

You start shit here and it could get back to your coaches.

You want to fuck around, find somewhere else.

” David has always been the voice of reason among the guys, making sure all the shitty things they do never actually get them into trouble.

Sometimes, I wonder if that makes him worse.

“Look at you, still watching our back, Pres.” Riley grins with a sharklike smile.

David rolls his eyes and downs the rest of his beer.

“Oh!” Michelle claps her hands together. “That reminds me. I heard Trent is having an apple-bobbing station but is filling the barrels with IPA.”

“Seriously?” D’Andre leans forward, cutting me off from the eyes of the group.

I try to tune into their conversation but am unable to filter any of the words as my gaze finally catches on the man who had riled up half our table with malicious intent.

Elliott Cross.