CHAPTER 16
WAVERLY
I’ve never snuck out in my life, but here I am, ten o’clock on a school night, walking toward a twenty-one-and-over bar in downtown Whispering Hills. Music travels down the street with a steady thumping that beats in time with our footsteps.
The beating in my chest coincides with the music, giving me an adrenaline rush. My body’s been tingling with raw dynamism since the moment we snuck out of the house and dropped my acceptance response in a nearby mailbox before cruising across town.
“Welcome to the dark side.” My cousin, Liberty, opens up the alley entrance in the back of the place a moment later. She’s always been my rebellious older cousin—the one my father would keep at an arm’s length because he said she would be a bad influence on us. “Jensen, how goes it?”
She slaps his shoulder and gives it a squeeze before leading us down a long, dark hallway. The music grows louder as we pass door after door. My shoes stick to the floor when I walk, making a Velcro noise with each step. It smells like alcohol and cigarettes.
“Come on.” Jensen slows down, slipping his hand across my lower back. He leans into my ear so I can hear him above the noise. “Tonight’s all about you.”
His words warm my soul more than he’ll ever know. I rarely feel special, especially growing up in such a large family.
Liberty takes us to a VIP area with a bunch of low-to-the-ground seating and a blue velvet rope separating us from the rest of the bar scene. A fancy looking bottle of clear alcohol sits on a bucket of ice surrounded by several bottles of beer.
“Kian’s headlining tonight,” she yells. “So we get the VIP treatment.”
Everywhere I look, people are dancing, laughing, drinking, touching, feeling, kissing, partying. I’m surrounded by everything I’ve been led to believe is evil. But it can’t be evil. Everyone’s having so much fun.
“I’ll be right back.” Jensen taps my leg and exits the VIP area, coming back a few minutes later with a cup for me.
“What is this?”
“Sprite.”
I laugh.
“What’s so funny?” He hands me my cup.
“If you’re going to be bad, Jensen Mackey, at least invite me.”
I feel it—that rebellion in my marrow that creeps up from time to time. I’m feeling good, my freedom just two months away. Jensen says no one can take it from me, and I’m finally beginning to believe he’s onto something.
And that calls for a celebration.
“You feeling all right?” Jensen grabs a beer from the ice bucket and twists the cap off. He promised to take me under his wing tonight, swearing on his life we won’t get caught.
I swipe the bottle from his hands and take a swig. It’s disgusting. It tastes like watered wheat. My face puckers instantly as I was not expecting the bitterness. Jensen studies me, watching as I take a second drink and a third. It tastes better with each swig, the distinct bite subsiding.
“Okay, then.” Jensen grabs himself another beer, uncaps it, and then clinks it with mine. “To Waverly and her bright future, whatever it may entail.”
“To the University of Utah.” I take another drink.
Liberty stands up, whistling through her fingers as a new band takes the stage. It must be her boyfriend. He takes a seat on a bar stool, his guitar slung around his chest. She is glued to him, a smile claiming her red lips. A tattoo vining up her forearm reads “wild thing” in ornate, cursive letters. I admire her ability to not care what anyone else thinks, to be her true self and to live a life that’s all her own.
He strums and then tunes his guitar and the crowd cheers. The rest of his band takes the stage. He’s wearing aviator sunglasses and a tank top, his arms covered in tattoos much like Liberty’s. His hair is long and mangy, and yet he’s somehow still a striking man. Anyone with half a brain can see he and Liberty are cut from the same cloth.
I finish my beer just as they finish their first song, so I help myself to another. A few songs later, I’m working on my third beer. My face is numb, my body relaxed. I’m sitting here, but I may as well have melted into a puddle of tranquility.
“Hey, slow down,” Jensen says, counting the empty beer bottles that line the table before us. “I’m not here to babysit you tonight.”
I wave my hand in his face, though my depth perception is way off. I end up sliding my fingers across his mouth. His lips are warm against the pads of my fingers, and my belly zings as I think about how they might taste.
But he doesn’t want me. He made that abundantly clear. And things have been good between us ever since we decided to be friends.
“You’re not as fun as I thought you’d be in this setting.” I’m slurring my words, though they’re clear as a bell in my head. “You just sit there like a… like a bump on a log.”
I giggle like I’ve just said the funniest thing in the whole entire world. Buzzing Waverly is much more carefree than her sober counterpart.
“Waverly.” He cocks his head at me, grabbing my wrist with his hand.
“Oh, no,” I laugh. “You better let go of me. I’m not in control.”
He cracks a sarcastic half-smile and releases my wrist. “Just cool it, okay? We’re underage. Last thing we want is to attract any attention. Liberty’s doing us a solid here.”
“I have to use the ladies’ room.” I stand up way too fast, toppling over into his lap, my behind in the air.
My father would be so proud right now.
“Let me walk you.” He helps me up and rises beside me.
I shake my head, my hair falling into my face and sticking to my forehead. The bar feels like a sauna now or maybe it’s just me. “No. I’ll be right back.”
I push through a sea of mostly college-aged people and find the line for the bathroom. The one bathroom door has a man symbol next to a woman symbol, and there are both guys and girls waiting in line.
I sigh, counting ahead to figure out where I fall in line. I’m sixth. It might be a while. Glancing around the room, I watch a rail-thin woman make out with a big, bearded guy. I listen to the girl in front of me yell into her phone, telling her babysitter she’ll be late tonight. The guy behind me has bloodshot eyes and a droopy face. I think he’s on something. I’m in a strange, new land, and I’m still learning the culture, but I kind of like it.
Autonomy is the greatest feeling on earth. Mix that together with a little rebellion and a taste of inhibition, and I’m scaling heights I never knew existed.
I bob my head to the music. It’s deep but catchy, like the voice of a sad man singing happy songs. Liberty’s boyfriend is ridiculously talented.
“Excuse me, miss.” I spin around, finding myself faced with a broad-shouldered man donning a black t-shirt with SECURITY written across it. “I’m going to need to see your ID.”
CHAPTER 17
JENSEN
“You’re lucky your friends are covering for your punk asses,” the owner of the bar scolds us outside in the alley. His finger is pointed at my chest, inches away from poking me. He’s lucky he doesn’t. “You’re eighteen-goddamned-years old. You should be at home, in bed. You’re lucky I don’t call your parents.”
We stand there and take it, waiting for him to calm down so we can leave. I’ve only had one beer, and it’s been well over an hour, so I should be okay to drive us home.
“Get out of here.” The owner waves us away. “And take care of her. She’s drunk off her ass.”
He would be correct. Waverly is sloppy drunk from the three beers she chugged on an empty stomach. That, and it’s her first time drinking. She has zero tolerance. I should’ve kept a closer eye on her.
I slip her arm around my shoulder and wrap my arm around her back, leading her to my truck.
“Sorry I ruined our night,” she sighs.
“You didn’t ruin anything. You just happen to look young and they happened to notice you.”