There were more people down here than upstairs, but it still wasn't crowded―or maybe the space was so large it didn't feel like it was. I thought I spotted Casey at the bar at the far end of the room, and I crossed several groups of people to get to her.
"Emma Thomas?" a girl questioned behind me. I turned to find a group of girls in glittery tops holding martini glasses, gawking. "I never would have expected to see you here. This is crazy."
I looked from one to the other, not recognizing any of them.
"We graduated two years ago," the petite brunette stated when it was evident I didn't know who they were.
"Oh, hi," I offered, not coming up with anything better to say.
"How've you been?" the girl with black curly hair and full red lips asked.
"Um," I stumbled, not really believing that they cared, but decided to answer with, "Great, thanks. I'm actually looking for Casey Straus. Have you seen her?"
"No," she offered apologetically. "We should totally catch up later though, okay?"
"Definitely," I forced a smile as they waved and walked away. What had I gotten myself into?
I turned toward the bar again, but the blond curls had disappeared. I collapsed on one of the stools, not wanting to chase after her all night. I figured after the hour was up, I'd text her and meet her wherever she was.
"What can I get for you?" the guy in the white oxford asked from behind the bar. I couldn't believe there was an actual bartender, but then again, there was valet parking.
"Something with caffeine," I requested. As he reached for a liquor bottle, I corrected with, "Non-alcoholic." He nodded and handed me a Mountain Dew.
I looked past him to the screen suspended behind the bar and preoccupied myself with basketball highlights so I wouldn't have to make conversation with people I didn't know. Or people I did …
"I told him, 'You're a douche and you're going to wish you were dead.'"
I don't know why I turned around. Perhaps it was because he had one of those obnoxious voices that carried through a crowd, attracting attention. It was almost an instinct, like hearing a car horn and turning to see who was honking as the car's about to hit you.
Jay's mouth dropped open. "Shit, Emma. I didn't know you were here. Sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."
It took me a moment to understand what Drew's annoying best friend was talking about. When it connected, I rolled my eyes with a groan and slid off the stool―walking past him and the awed eyes that surrounded him.
There was a steady stream of people flowing down the stairs, so I continued to the other side of the room, keeping my head down. I found a sliding door leading to a stone patio next to the other bar. I unlocked it and slipped out before anyone could say anything else to me.
I wasn't sure why I bothered to keep coming to these parties. I blew out a cloud of frustration into the frosty air and shoved my hands in my pockets, trying to decide my next move.
I pulled out my phone, recognizing I still had an unbearable forty-five minutes to go. I searched the dark, trying to spot a path that led to the front. Maybe the valet would let me sit in Casey's car while I waited for her.
The patio connected to a stone walkway that was cleared of snow. It branched out; one way led to a pool covered in a snow-crusted blue sheet, and another to a long building with a dark wood finish. Light spilled from the small windows that lined the top of the tall walls.
I approached the door, just to peek in, but when I opened it―I was drawn inside. The distinct scent of freshly waxed floors with a hint of rubber filled my senses. I wasn't exactly surprised to find an indoor basketball court in Drew's backyard, but I couldn't understand why he'd never told me about it.
The court was empty, creating the perfect haven to hide for the next half hour or so. I unzipped my jacket and dumped it on the bench. Perfectly painted black lines framed the court, and two benches for the competing teams bordered one side. A professional scoreboard hung high on the wall at one end of the court. There was even a door leading to a locker room in one of the corners. I laughed, shaking my head. This was unbelievable.
I took off my black soled shoes and strode onto the court, eyeing the rack of balls along the baseline. I pulled one off and started dribbling toward the foul line. Squaring up to the basket, I released the ball, bouncing it off the back rim and through the orange hoop. I slid my feet along the floor for the rebound, then dribbled back for another shot.
I continued to work my way around the perimeter, watching the minutes tick away on the caged-in clock behind the basket. When the door banged shut I stopped with the ball poised in the palm of my hand. I spun around.