Page 37

THIRTY-ONE

Playing: When the Party’s Over by Billie Eilish

The air is saturated as bodies flow through the crowded space. The still-winter air outside warranted layers, but now I’m sweating right through my outer coat.

I remember once loving this environment. The camaraderie between the sweaty dancers, groups forming together to socialize; loud laughter and drunken happiness. That side of myself is still there, lying dormant somewhere, but I realize now that it only ever came alive when I wasn’t sober.

And I am so painfully sober right now.

I look psychotic as I wander around, looking at anyone with red-ish hair as I try to find the person I’m looking for. I give up on my search on the main floor and make my way to the basement.

I don’t know what I’m thinking anyway, Macron is never out in the open at these things.

I haven’t spoken to my drug dealer in weeks, not since the night I met Ciro, actually. He had given me that dose of LSD that gave me the worst trip of my life. Although that was less the drug’s fault and more on my asshole of an ex.

For a second, I wonder if the guys have ever run into each other at Alpha Xi. Something tells me Sam probably wouldn’t approve of Macron selling at his parties.

After I arranged to meet him here, I almost had the sense to call it off.

Then, I read the new messages from Derek.

No matter how many numbers I block, he keeps finding ways to message me.

It feels hopeless. Like no matter what I do, he will always be around, lurking around every corner and reminding me that I’m not good enough. That I will never deserve a pack.

I wish I could say it doesn’t bother me.

I wish I was strong enough to know it’s far from the truth, no matter how it’s spun, but I’m not.

There’s something there, poking and prodding.

These same things have been spat at me longer than I can remember.

Not just from Derek, but from my parents, so they must be true.

There must be something wrong with me that even I can’t see.

My memory isn’t very good, and my awareness is even worse. How would I even know?

Then there’s my feelings to consider. Ever since my birthday, the realization that I’m actually falling for these guys has cut me deep. They’re so attentive, and way more than I deserve.

I’ll hurt them. I don’t know how, but I will, and then they’ll hate me like Derek does. Like my parents do. I can’t fathom the pain that kind of heartbreak will do to me.

The basement floor is cold even through my sneakers but it’s a welcome contrast to the sauna going on upstairs. There are circles of people, all playing different games. One group shamelessly spins a bottle around, which makes me smile. At least someone’s having some unrestrained fun.

“Stacia!” I turn to meet the eyes of the guy I’m looking for.

His hair is close cropped and he has a beer neck hanging loosely between his fingers.

A few of his friends are on the couch with him, playing some amateur poker.

The coffee table is covered with loose change and trinkets.

There’s even little baggies sitting amongst the prize pile.

“I didn’t think you were going to show up,” he mentions as I come upon the group. I look at them and cringe, feeling out of place. The vibe isn’t necessarily unwelcoming, but I still feel uncomfortable, so I give him a polite smile and shrug.

“Almost didn’t. But I’m here. What do you have?”

“The usual. And some new type of molly. I think this batch is better than my last. At least, that’s what people tell me. I don’t do my own supply, you know.”

I tilt my head at him. “Better than the last batch you gave me?”

He raises his eyebrow at me. “Can you even remember that trip? You were candyflipping. I remember when it started to hit you, you galloped into the woods pretending to be a deer.”

The heat on my skin rose to my cheeks. I must be getting my trips mixed up because I definitely don’t remember that. Gosh, how the hell did I get home that day?

That’s what I get for taking LSD and Molly at the same time.

I take out some cash. “I’ll take some of the new stuff. Only three points though.”

We do the trade and I look at the powder in the bag. There’s goosebumps on my arms from both nerves and excitement. The anticipation of the inevitable blissful state makes my mouth dry, like the serotonin in my brain is aware of what’s going to happen once I take the substance in my hand.

“Thanks, Mac,” I say, and he salutes me as I walk off.

His nonchalance is one of the reasons I go back to him whenever I need anything.

It took a bit of trial and error to find the right drug dealer.

Most people think it’s so easy once you find one, but some are very weird.

The first person I ever found would make me do the drugs in front of them.

Big no-no. Why does that matter? They must have been really paranoid.

Or they got off on controlling others. Either is possible.

Not Mac, though. You get in and then get out. He has no ties to anyone he sells to. It’s a pretty equal exchange, and I’m certainly glad we crossed paths all those months ago.

As I step into the kitchen, I remind myself of my promise. I will wait to get home before ingesting this powder, I will … but then the sink calls to me. It’s shiny and there’s no one lingering. There’s even an empty cup right there! I could just…

I blink. I have a glass of water in one hand and the bag of powder in another. I look around. The kitchen is pretty bare sans a few people mingling.

Why am I itching to do it right this second? Why can’t I wait just a few minutes so I can get home safe?

I shake myself out of my weakened state. As I go to put the baggie in my pocket, my phone buzzes.

Damnit .

Rory’s at an actor’s club (more like a get-together but tomato-tomato), and the guys should be at tonight’s game. Unless the game just ended, which is very possible considering the time.

I open up my texts and immediately regret it.

Unknown (10:45 pm) Did you think you could get rid of me that easily?

Dread fills me. What did I do to deserve this torment ? I’ve lost count of how many text messages he has sent me this week. The fact that he keeps going out of his way to find new ways to message me is disturbing.

It feels like I’ll never be rid of him.

I take the baggie back out and pour the contents in the glass of water before chugging it. Then I go back to the thread and type on autopilot.

Stacia (10:48 pm) Fuck. You.

I turn off all notifications and put it in my back pocket to forget about it. My body becomes numb like it does when I’m overwhelmed. I welcome it immediately, letting it take over my senses. Fooling myself into thinking I even have a choice in the visceral reaction.

I hum happily. There’s no need to do anything right now.

Maybe I’ll have a shot and go home. Be in my bed. Forget that there’s anything I have to deal with at all.

That sounds nice. Manageable. No responsibilities.

Nothing at all.

I feel the warmth of the joint spread through my limbs. Molly is always better on weed, I truly believe it. It relaxes you, and helps you realize the things around you aren’t so scary.

I thank the stranger for sharing their weed with me, and they look at me like I’m a bit nuts. Probably because I bowed to them, but it felt right. Still, they smile and nod before I remove myself from the circle and roam back inside.

The light is brighter than I expected it to be, making everything appear clearer than it would have in a dimmed space.

I hear a beautiful melody echoing throughout the house, tugging me like a magnet all the way to the dance floor.

I feel like I’m floating through the crowd like a fairy when an arm suddenly snakes around my waist. The touch makes my skin shimmer, even as my omega curls up inside me and hisses.

“Whoa, easy there, girl,” someone says by my ear. I guess I must have hissed out loud. Their hold keeps me from being able to turn and see their face, but I can feel their breath on my cheek. “Just wanted to see what you were on, is all. You seem to be tripping hard.”

I feel my heart start to hammer in my chest as their grip gets stronger.

“I’m not on anything,” I say, but my throat feels dry and it comes out scratchy. “Let me go. I want to go dance.”

“We can dance together, then,” they slur, and the whiskey air spewing from their mouth smells repugnant. Nothing like my beta’s arousing liquor scent.

“No, I’d like to dance alone,” I object, trying to tug their hands off me but my arms suddenly feel like flimsy noodles against their steel grasp.

“Don’t you want company? Tripping alone isn’t fun at all.” They continue to push, and I feel myself start to go numb at their invasive energy.

Just as I feel the need to detach, the stranger’s arms whip away from my body.

I feel movement as they’re thrown to the ground, the crowd around us finally takes notice of the situation as gasps fill the air.

I don’t turn to see what happens, I just put my arms around myself and try to jet through the crowd but a hand comes out from the bodies and clasps around my arm.

I almost startle into a scream before I see blond hair and familiar green eyes. I huff with relief and fall into his embrace.

“Kendall,” I say into his chest as I clutch at his shirt. He wraps his arms around me, and my body melts like butter against him. His coconut scent lulls me into such tranquility.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he murmurs into my hair.

“Where did you come from?” I ask, reveling in his softness. Shimmers flow through my body and over my skin, making me clench my thighs together at the wonderful sensation.

I wonder if people normally respond this way on molly or if it’s heightened because this is my scent match .

“We came to see you. Where’s your phone, Stacia?”

I hear his words, but don’t respond. I’m too comfortable in his caress that I refuse to step back out of it, out into the scary crowded area that I had found so serene before the stranger with grabby hands.

We stand there for a few more moments before I hear another voice.

“Let’s get out of here.” I smell beautiful incense, refreshing and cleansing.

Uriah .

“You took care of him?” I hear Kendall ask but there’s no response so I’m guessing he gave a gesture. A nod? Probably. I can’t imagine Uriah winking.

I visualize that thought, picturing Uriah giving an exaggerated wink, and accidentally let a giggle loose through my lips before looking up at my alphas. “Are we going home?”

The softness of their expressions bleed into me. I can feel the love pouring from them, absorbing it through my skin. There’s another emotion there, too, but I can’t quite read it in this state.

“Yes, my love,” Uriah answers, pushing a piece of my hair behind my ear. The gesture makes me bite my lip, wishing they’d both put their hands on me and never take them off. “Let’s go home.”