Wes is looking at me; I can feel it, but he's not saying anything.
"Yeah, well, I'm a hot drunk and you know it," I say with a wink, emptying my cup in seconds.
"Woooooooo, she's not messing around tonight. Taryn, I hope you're ready to take your girl home later," Kyle teases, filling my cup again. I feel Wes shift next to me, moving forward, his arms on his knees, his hands clasped in front of his body.
I feel his disgust.
I start to tip my second cup back, but Taryn reaches across the table, pulling my arm down lightly with a few of her fingers, her eyes catching mine, her warning loud and clear.
"What?" I mouth over the cup's edge, my tongue taking a small taste of the liquid beaded around the edge. I hate the way beer tastes, but I love how it makes me feel-drink enough, and everything sharp gets softer.
"Stop it," she whispers back, the worry line deep between her eyes.
My lips purse as I pause and decide if I'm going to engage, like I normally do, or listen to my friend and not fall into my usual pattern, which I know would ruin her night with TK. Kyle is me, and I am him, and nobody tests the nerve that runs through me like he does. He likes to push me into things. I like to let him. I hate that he's quitting smoking, because he's the reason I started, and part of me wants to get shitfaced in minutes just to spite him. But Taryn's right. Besides, that's what he wants. He wants the push-and I think part of him is showing off our connection in front of Wes just to prove to the new guy that he doesn't get to be everyone's favorite.
I put my cup down and sink back into the couch, ready to play the game. My buzz will come soon enough, and I'm willing to wait the hour it might take before the reality of what I'll have to deal with at home sinks into me.
Taryn starts things off easy, with statements like "never have I ever kissed more than one person in the same night" and "never have I ever slept in the nude." I drink for both because I've done both, and I feel Wes's eyes on me for my confessions.
The admissions get heavier as the hour wears on, and I've only sat out a few of them. I haven't been arrested-officially-so I don't drink for that, and I've never kissed a girl. Kyle asks this question every time we play, and I know it's because he wants to see me finally check that box and kiss Taryn in front of him. That check doesn't happen tonight though.
I notice Wes has hardly drunk any, and I wonder why he even bothered to come. Conner's girlfriend, Layla, showed up late along with Taryn's cousin, Emily, our friend Noah, and a couple of other girls I sort of know. They've all had more to drink than Wes. The new girls are also quite taken with him. The way he sits, holding his half cup of beer in one hand, arm slung over the back of the sofa, his shirt tight around his biceps, hair falling in his face-it's almost laughable how good looking he is. He doesn't belong here in this dark room on the poor side of Bakersfield in a house with olive-colored carpet and wood-paneled walls. And god, the way he smells. I'm feeling my beer pretty good at this point, and the only thing keeping my wits with me is Wes's cologne. I keep trying to follow the scent into a dream, but whenever I do, I end up staring at him.
"I have to pee," I announce, standing clumsily and knocking over a few half-filled cups teetering on the edge of the coffee table.
"Shit, Joss. You're making a goddamned mess," Kyle says, laughing halfway through his lecture. He's as drunk as I am, and at least that feels right.
I stumble down the hallway to the bathroom and spend several minutes looking at myself in the mirror after I've taken care of business. My eyes are heavy, and my hair is down. It's tangled around my shoulders. I pull the band from my wrist and twist my hair up, fastening it in place before running a finger under each of my eyes, smearing away some of the excess eyeliner. My head falls forward and I let out a faint laugh when I realize how silly I'm being. I'm trying to look good for Wes, but I also want to call him on his bullshit and make him admit he's Christopher-and beyond that, I want him to quit looking at me like I'm doing something wrong. He has no idea what it's like to live in my house. Saturday nights are my one escape, at least until my phone rings and reality comes calling.
My phone hasn't rung yet, though. Maybe tonight I'll get a break. I wash my hands and flip off the light before entering the hall, running right into Wes's chest when I do. My palm finds the center of it, and his hand finds my wrist, steadying me when I startle and scream.
"Sorry, I didn't know you were coming out. I was waiting for my turn," he says, same stupid crooked smirk.
"It's okay," I say, and I smile back at him. Doe-eyes are back, and I feel them, so I straighten my posture and pull my lips tight, taking my arm from his grasp. "We'll wait for you before we start again, Christopher."
I just let it slip out. My heartbeat drums quickly in my chest, and the last vestige of sober me fights to act nonchalant while I watch Wes's face for a reaction. His eyes never flinch, though, and his reaction is nothing but natural. One eyebrow quirks up, and he points to himself. "It's Wes, and I think maybe you've had enough," he says.
"It's not Wes; it's Christopher," I say, squinting at him and pointing my finger in his chest. He glances down at it, his face still resolved, which pisses me off even more. "And I'm not even close to drunk yet."
I leave him there in the hall, but before I turn the corner to the living room, I run into Kyle. He grabs my elbows when I stumble, and glances behind me before looking in my eyes. I see him look back at Wes again before he disappears behind the bathroom door, and then he turns to me with a question.
"He was waiting to use the bathroom, and he scared the shit out of me in the dark," I say.
It's the truth, but somehow it reads like a lie, and I can now feel my heart beating in my stomach. I shirk off Kyle's hold on my arms and step over Taryn and TK, who are practically spooning on the floor. I get back to my spot on the couch and fill my cup with one of the beers-drinking it down almost completely before Kyle and Wes get back to the game.
McKenna, one of the girls who showed up late, has somehow wormed her way to Wes's other side. There really isn't a seat there, so her leg is pressed into his as she attempts to split the couch cushion with him. She's not even subtle about the way she's maneuvering her body so that her skirt rides up just enough to catch his eye. It works. Hell, every human that's not spooning on the goddamned floor has ogled her leg by now-me included. But I still feel the tingle of jealousy in my veins, amplified by alcohol.
"Let's play more," Kyle says, interrupting my jaunt down envy lane. "I … " he says, standing in the center of our circle, his finger out as he spins slowly, pointing to each of us as if he's the prize wheel and we're the prizes. He stops at me, and the right side of his lip rises.
Shit.
"I … have never, not ever made out with Josselyn Winters." His declaration comes out smug, and he brings his cup to his smiling lips quickly, drinking his entire cup empty and setting it down with a smack on the table right in front of Wes. He just made me a challenge, like I'm some trophy he won. Most of the room rolls their eyes-aware of the few hook ups Kyle and I have had over the last couple years-none of them caring. But his turn wasn't for them-it was for Wes, for Kyle to prove he's already had me, in some small way, and that he had me first. Wes is holding his cup in both hands between his knees, spinning it slowly, his lips pursed, and his jaw twitching. It would be sweet if it were because he's jealous, but it's not-it's because he doesn't like people paying attention to him. Just like Christopher.
Reaching forward, I smack my hand flat on the table to get everyone's attention, and when they all look at me, I sit up tall, pulling my cup into my hand.
"I have one! I have never ever pretended to be someone I'm not," I say, my words coming out ugly, but clear enough that everyone hears. I hold my breath and scan the room slowly, stopping when my eyes reach Wes's. I wait for him to drink, but he just stares at me, his brow slightly lowered, his face full of concern, maybe even disappointment. I look back at him, my breath slow and even, when something else comes over me. Maybe he's pretending to be someone else, but so is everyone here. Kyle, Taryn … all of my friends-me! We're pretending to be okay with the fact that we live where we live, that not one of us can afford college and that the kids who live on the north side all have nice cars and two parents who have jobs with suits and business meetings and fancy parties. We pretend to be tough, to be grown up and ready-but we're not. We're so far away from any of that.