“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.”