Pearls of wisdom by Ms. Hove:
What is alcohol? Alcohol is created through a process called fermentation. Fermentation uses yeast or bacteria to change the sugars in foods (commonly grains, fruits, or vegetables) into alcohol.
When alcohol is consumed, it is immediately absorbed into the bloodstream. As it travels throughout the body, it suppresses the functions of the central nervous system, as well as blocks a sizeable number of messages trying to make their way to the brain. This phenomenon alters how a person sees, hears, moves, feels, and perceives.
A person who is intoxicated may act completely out of character!!!
The week passed quickly and Friday—Halloween—arrived before Vivien could properly prepare for it. The idea of a college party had loomed ominously in the back of her mind, but with homework, volunteering, and the simple daily chore of living with a mother who didn’t shop for groceries, who seemed to be barely aware that she had a daughter at all, she’d only dedicated the bare minimum amount of time to obsessing over it.
But now it was here. Declan was going to pick her up at seven o’clock—in twenty-five minutes, yikes!—and still she stood naked, frozen in indecision before her closet.
A costume was definitely out of the question. Yet she couldn’t decide if she should opt for some sort of Halloween theme so as not to look like a total nonparticipant. But what, exactly? All black? Black and orange? No, that was dorky, like something an elementary school teacher would wear beneath her medley of Halloween-themed buttons. She should wear something that suggested a hidden sexy side, but of course nothing over the top.
She passed over every hanger and emptied nearly every piece of clothing she owned from her dresser drawers: skinny jeans, bootcuts, flares, leggings, miniskirts, pencil skirts, pullovers, cardigans, loose tees, fitted tees…the end result being nothing but dissatisfaction. Everyone had seen her wear these things over a thousand times. She wished she had time to run over to Lauren’s house; now that girl had clothes. Her parents were loaded, and every weekend without fail, Lauren could be spotted at the mall, shopping bags stacked on each arm like multicolored bracelets.
Speaking of Lauren, she wondered how things were developing with Nathan. How her friend could actually fall for such an infamous playboy was beyond her. As if his good looks could make up for his defective personality. Wasn’t this the weekend she was supposedly going to invite him over for…casual sex? No, that was next weekend. So maybe she still had time to talk her out of what seemed like a really bad idea. She made a mental note to have a private talk with Lauren. Soon.
After trying on at least six different outfits, she finally settled on her tightest pair of jeans and a glittery silver top that fell off the shoulder. She added a pair of silver hoop earrings and put her hair up in a casual twist. With five minutes left to spare, she applied her makeup and several quick sprays of Tahitian Vanilla Dream.
Her cell vibrated on her desk. She hurried over and read Declan’s text. He was waiting outside.
“You smell really good,” he told her as they pulled away from the curb. “But you’re going to freeze in that wimpy leather jacket you keep wearing.”
“You’re just going to have to accept the fact that this is my winter jacket.” She patted the worn leather lovingly. “And it works just fine.” After a minute she added, “Do you always make a habit of looking after others? You remind me of a mother hen clucking over her chicks.”
“Mother hen?” he said. “That sounds so wrong, coming from a girl. I’ll try not to show any further interest in your welfare, if that’s what you prefer.”
“Don’t get mad.” She laughed, then said more seriously, “Don’t stop. I like it.” In fact, this quality of his that showed itself now and then had been a complete surprise to her. She had carelessly and prematurely figured him to be the same as all the others he hung around with: shallow and vain. Now she was beginning to see she’d been seriously mistaken, and she felt a tad guilty for being so judgmental. To think that he was concerned about her and was willing to show it made her an even bigger case of putty in his hands, for it felt like a long time since anyone had bothered.
Declan kept silent, but she could sense him working over her confession in his head. Apparently he decided not to pursue it because a few seconds later he changed the subject. “I gotta stop for gas up here.”
The Volvo swerved around several cars and came to a stop before an empty pump. Declan cut the engine and hopped out, saying, “Be back in a sec.”
She studied him through the window. He was a confident guy; his movements said so. Everything he did, he did quickly and efficiently, appearing much more experienced—wiser, even—than she. As she watched him replace the pump and tighten the gas cap, she realized she had never pumped gas herself. Why would she? She didn’t even know how to drive yet. Suddenly, putting this milestone off seemed a massive misjudgment on her part. Wasn’t it every teen’s dream to get their license? Along with that crisp plastic rectangle came responsibility, independence, and, more importantly, escape from adults.
But she was already free, wasn’t she? Who was around enough to care where she went, what she did? Her mother only interfered if it somehow affected her: Why hadn’t Vivien bought more coffee? Now she was going to have a headache before the day had even begun. How could Vivien leave the apartment wearing ripped sweats? Now everyone would think they were living below the poverty line. And so on…
She fantasized what it’d be like to stuff her meager belongings into her mother’s Toyota Camry and step on the gas, driving without end until her previous life was reduced to nothing but a tiny smudge on the map. She would roll down the window, the wind sweeping inside, blowing her hair wildly about. And she would feel wild. No longer trapped by tragic circumstances. Truly free.
“Damn!” Declan exclaimed, sliding into the driver’s seat accompanied by a rush of frigid gasoline-scented air. “Winter’s here already.”
On the way to Riley’s, she decided to tell Declan she hadn’t started driver’s ed yet.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No. It’s not that unusual. I’m only sixteen. Almost seventeen,” she amended.
“I suppose…”
“Listen.” She had several excuses ready and began ticking off each point on her fingers, “We only have one car. My mother needs it for work every day. She’s told me in no uncertain terms that she doesn’t have the skill or the patience to practice with me anyway. Which, by the way, is lucky for me because she’s been in like three fender benders in the last six months.”
“Thanks for the Power Point presentation.” He was silent for a minute. “You know, I could teach you. It’s not that hard.” Instantly, she saw a light bulb go off in his head. “We could do some practicing right now. What do you think?”
“Now?”
He considered her for a moment. “You’re not the most spontaneous person, are you? Must everything be planned in advance in your world?”
She looked away, affronted. “There’s nothing wrong with a little preparation,” she informed him. “It makes things go smoothly.”
“Yeah, but…” He shook his head, an amused look on his face. “Just hear me out. I know the perfect place to go. Safe. No traffic. You could—I don’t know—take a small step out of your comfort zone and give it a try.”
She hesitated. The chances of her looking like a complete idiot seemed dangerously high. “I don’t…I’ve never been behind the wheel before,” she told him. “This could be a true test of your teaching skills.”
“Oh, I love a good challenge,” he assured her. “Come on. Don’t worry. Here’s your chance to be adventurous.”
“Fine,” she said. “But in my opinion, adventure is highly overrated.”
As it turned out, Declan’s great place to practice revealed itself as they drove through the spiked wrought iron gates of East View Cemetery.
“This is where my brothers taught me,” he told her, when she gave him a curious look. “It
’s perfect because there’s a long, empty road running all the way through. You can practice steering, accelerating, braking smoothly—you know, get a feel for driving in complete safety.”
Once in the driver’s seat, she firmly regretted agreeing to such an impromptu scheme and did her best to talk her way out of it. She was positive it would prove to be one of the more embarrassing moments in her lifetime.
But Declan was hearing none of it. Calmly, patiently, he showed her how to turn on the headlights, start the engine, and shift from park into drive.
She let out an involuntary squeal as the car began to cruise forward, and she gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. “Oh my God, it’s moving.”
“Yeah. That’s the idea.”
She waved him off in an attempt to silence his blatant sarcasm, then shouted an unintelligible string of nonsense upon realizing she had only one hand on the wheel.
“Whoa! Calm down, there.” He grinned, shaking his head. “You’re the one in control. The car’s not going to drive off on its own.”
She scowled, creeping along at a snail’s pace. “Your car is too long,” she complained. “I’m going to crash into something. I should be practicing in a Mini Cooper. Or even better, a bumper car.”
“You’re not going to crash. Just start out slow.” He checked her speed. “Maybe a little faster.”
Her foot pressed down on the gas pedal and she stared straight ahead as she concentrated on navigating the Volvo around the curves. With each turn, the headlights illuminated the frost-covered grass and the gravestones surrounding them.
“Ooooh! This place is creepy,” she said, looking sideways at a towering black memorial. She half expected a zombie to emerge from the shadows, marching stiff-legged, arms extended. It was Halloween after all.
“Keep your eyes on the road,” he warned.
She returned her gaze forward, jerking the wheel swiftly as she realigned the car to the center of the road. “Oops!” she cried out. This little mishap made her start to giggle, and soon she was fighting back tears as she struggled to control her laughter. In the end she was forced to slam on the brakes, jolting the two of them forward into the dashboard.
“Sorry,” she said once she had regained control.
“OK, OK. That wasn’t too bad,” he said. “Did you like it?”
“Sort of. I definitely need more practice.”
“Nah,” he said, “you’re fine.”
She giggled again and gave him a slap him on his thigh.
Taking advantage of the gesture, he grabbed hold of her hand, sliding his fingers smoothly in between hers. “It’s nice out here,” he said, glancing around. “Peaceful.”
She could concentrate on nothing but his touch. With effort, she tried to speak naturally. “Oh yeah, I forgot; you love spooky places. Nothing would be more exciting than a maniac with an axe to pop out of nowhere like a real horror movie.”
“Most definitely,” he agreed. “But I could take him. He wouldn’t even have a chance with us.”
“Is that so?”
He gave her a funny look. “I guess now’s the time to tell you about my…superpowers.”
She frowned.
He nodded. “Yeah. That’s right.”
“And what exactly are these superpowers?”
“Nothing you’ve ever heard of before.”
“Would you come—”
“I’m serious. It happens at night, when the moon is…a waxing gibbous—”
“A waxing gibbous?” she said incredulously.
“Hey, I kept a moon journal in fourth grade. I know my phases.”
“I vaguely remember that,” she replied.
“Anyway,” he continued, “only then do I morph into a mystical creature. A cross between Spiderman, SpongeBob, and…Sir Paul McCartney. And I kick some ass as I scale skyscrapers with my webbed hands, serving Krabby Patties and singing ‘Hey Jude’ to all my fans.”
“That was brilliant. Thanks for sharing.”
“Whatever you say, Doubting Thomas. Won’t you be surprised one of these nights when I appear at your window?” He lifted their interlocked hands up into the air and appeared to be examining them. “So…care to go for a walk? It looks awesome out there.”
She swallowed. It looked totally freaky. “Absolutely not.”
“Then I guess we’re off to the party.” Releasing her hand, he commanded, “Switch seats.”
“Wait! Don’t open the door. I think we should keep them locked.”
“For real?” But the look she gave him answered that question. “Okaaaayy. You’ll have to scoot under me, then,” he directed her, twisting off the seat.
She swung her right leg over and scooted her backside across the center console into the passenger seat, ending up, much to her dismay, pinned awkwardly between Declan’s forearms. His face only inches from hers, she held her breath and bravely attempted to look him in eye.
Help! Was this it? Was this going to be her first kiss—real kiss? The first one that truly mattered, that sent her heart thudding away deep in her chest, and her breath coming in ragged gasps? The small gap of air between the two of them was charged with electricity. She could almost hear it sizzle.
Their eyes locked. The tension became unbearable. She let out a small whimper and closed her eyes just as his breath, warm and lightly sweet, washed over her. She felt the timid soft touch of his lips, which vanished, then found hers again, a hint of pressure the second time around. At first she kept rigid, but soon found the courage to kiss him back. It lasted but a minute, yet that minute seemed to stretch on endlessly. All sense of time was lost.
She opened her eyes just as he was pulling away. She hoped the look on her face didn’t match the turmoil going on in her vital organs. She had a strong inclination to jump up and down, clap hysterically, shout with joy, and vomit all at once.
Declan gave her a shrewd smile, as if he somehow knew everything she was thinking. Then he spun around into the driver’s seat. And they were off.
Vivien was familiar with the campus but had never had occasion to venture into the student neighborhoods clustered on the southern edge of the university. Thick branches of tall, stately elms arched majestically over the street. But a closer look revealed rows of houses that had fallen into a sad state of disrepair and outright neglect. A good number of windowpanes were cracked or boarded up completely. Shutters hung unevenly. Front porches sagged beneath the weight of tattered sofas and La-Z-Boy recliners that sat adjacent to card tables littered with plastic beer cups. Every third house boasted a red and white “Now Leasing” sign.
Declan parked the car in front of an especially questionable-looking residence. She was pretty sure this might be what your standard crack house looked like. She glanced up at the second floor balcony. The entire structure sloped ominously to one side, an accident waiting to happen. She made a mental note never to set foot on it.
“This is it,” he announced.
She watched a plastic shopping bag skitter across the lawn and get caught up on one of the many bicycles that were locked haphazardly on the side of the front porch. Someone had made a half-hearted attempt to decorate for Halloween; a couple of jack-o’-lanterns peeked out from windows, and a ghost she’d seen on sale for ninety-nine cents at the drug store was taped to the front door. Inside, she could make out the dark silhouettes of people migrating from room to room.
Declan turned to her with a grin. “Ready?”
“Sure…”
“Don’t worry,” he said, reading her like a book. “I won’t leave your side. I’ll introduce you to everyone.” He took her hand and gave it a squeeze.
Their hands stayed clasped as they mounted the steps to the front door. She was about to make a generic observation on the chill in the air when the door burst open and Nathan appeared, arms spread wide. “Dude!” he shouted. “How’s it hangin’?”
Declan chuckled a greeting. “Hey.”
 
; “And who’s this fine Betty?”
“Vivien, remember?” Declan gave him a look. “Are you shit-faced already?”
Nathan lifted his cup in salutation. “Fuck, yeah!”
“Nice.” Taking her arm, Declan pressed past him into the house. There were clumps of people everywhere, and the sound of Eminem blasting expletives came from somewhere in the back.
“Hey, Vivs!” she heard someone call out. Turning, she saw Lauren bumping her way toward them from the living room. “I didn’t know you’d be here,” Lauren said once she reached the couple.
“Likewise,” she said, frowning at Lauren’s cup of bright red punch. It smelled strongly of rubbing alcohol. “Are you with—”
“Nathan,” Lauren blurted, grinning wide and taking a sip. “Isn’t this cool?” She gestured around her in slow motion like they were in a strange new world.
Vivien shared a look with Declan. “Um, yeah. I guess.”
“Come on,” Declan said, “I want to find Riley.” He started moving them off in the other direction. “See you around, Lauren,” he added.
Vivien gave Lauren one last look. “Be careful,” she told her, wagging her finger.
Lauren just smiled vacantly and wandered off, hunting for Nathan, Vivien assumed.
They passed through a hallway and into the kitchen. Here they found the host of the party, a tall, attractive guy, sitting on the countertop in the midst of telling a story. Upon seeing them, he stopped talking and hopped down to give Declan a fist bump, thrusting a bottle of beer in his hand.
“Long time, no see.”
“Riley, this is Vivien.” Declan snuck his arm around her waist and pulled her in a little closer.
Riley nodded, looking her up and down. “I approve!” he said with a grin. “Hey, Vivien, there’s some wicked punch my roommate made over there in that tub.” He hitched his thumb over his shoulder. “Don’t ask me what’s in it, but you should definitely have some.”
She shook her head. “That’s OK.”
Immediately, the two boys launched into an animated conversation about the university’s lacrosse team this year. Declan had told her beforehand that Riley was an excellent player. He’d been offered a full scholarship early on in his senior year at Eastbrook. It was clear he was someone Declan admired, so she concentrated on looking attentive. But they might as well have been speaking a foreign language. Her focus slipped, her eyes darting around the room in curiosity. A good number of girls were dressed up for Halloween, wearing costumes that barely covered their bodies. Scantily clad vampires, witches, and several French maids wandered in and out of the kitchen, serving themselves the mysterious red drink or grabbing a beer from the refrigerator. Hungry male eyes followed these gratuitous glimpses of breasts and tramp stamps.
The weight of sex filled the air. It pressed down on her and made it difficult to breathe. This was why she didn’t go to parties. The throbbing, pulsating rhythm of drunkenness and promiscuity felt…well, sinful, for lack of a better word. Not that she was a true believer in sin. She certainly didn’t go to confession or anything. However, she believed she had a good sense of what was right and what was wrong. What was appropriate and what was not. And clearly, what was happening around her was way beyond her comfort zone.
By the time she’d returned her attention to the conversation, she saw that Riley had been recalled to his perch in order to deliver the much-awaited punch line. Declan took a swig of beer, then motioned for her to follow. In the living room, he leaned into her ear and shouted something she couldn’t understand. They moved toward a group of guys and girls he seemed to know sitting on an exceptionally filthy sofa. He signaled for one of the girls to scoot over, patting the now-vacant spot for Vivien. Everyone gave a perfunctory glance in her direction when Declan introduced her.
Balanced awkwardly on the edge of a lumpy cushion smelling suspiciously like vomit, she once again found herself trying to follow a conversation that made little sense. Most of the groups lounging about were college freshmen. They seemed intent on emptying and refilling their drinks as quickly as possible. In between screams of laugher and shouting lewd comments, they discussed their course loads and complained about an infamously biased TA, whatever that was. They then moved on to lengthy descriptions of recent parties that had “rocked.” Declan’s chameleon-like abilities allowed him to join in effortlessly, but she remained quiet. The music made it nearly impossible to hear, and eventually she gave up on lip reading, resigning herself to just sit there for what seemed like forever.
A stripper/Tinkerbell fairy sitting at her feet tapped her on leg and shouted, “Hey, what dorm do you live in? You look familiar.”
Vivien leaned forward, explaining that she didn’t go to school here, she was still a junior at Eastbrook, but seconds into her explanation the girl’s eyes glazed over and Vivien’s voice trailed off. The girl got up and claimed a spot on the other end of the sofa.
At last, about the time when her state of alienation and frustration had reached a peak, she turned to see Lauren and Nathan heading up the stairs. Curious, she twisted full on in her seat to get a better view and was appalled to see that Lauren was noticeably unsteady. Nathan kept reaching out to support her as she giggled and wobbled with each step.
What on earth did Lauren think she was doing?
She sighed and rubbed her temples with her fingers. The smell of cigarettes had begun to make her head throb. She glanced over at Declan to see if he too had noticed the drunken couple fumbling their way upstairs, but received no indication he had. Rather he was in the midst of conferring closely with two strange-looking girls. One had a multicolored snake tattoo that crept out of the neckline of her shirt, wrapping up and behind her ear. The other sported neon pink streaks in her spiky white hair along with several crystal studs in one eyebrow. Whatever the topic of conversation, the three appeared to be enjoying themselves immensely.
At her wits’ end, she asked the girl sitting next to her where to find the bathroom. The girl pointed upstairs and then returned her attention to the hooker/witch on her opposite side.
She stood and attempted to shout over the music, informing Declan where she was going. He nodded and gave her one of his killer smiles.
Why did he have to be so attractive? Was it normal to be jealous of your boyfriend, she wondered as she headed up the stairs? He possessed some innate quality that made him instantly appealing to just about everybody. Maybe this was because no matter what, he seemed to be having a good time.
She, on the other hand, was not. Having a good time. Was not really fooling anybody here that she was some kind of party animal. In fact, she was the exact opposite of fun. She was hopelessly tense and just plain boring.
The landing at the top of the stairs was completely dark. As she peered down the hallway, she saw that all doors were closed. What to do? Where was the most logical place for a bathroom? Making a guess, she walked about halfway down and opened the door.
At first her eyes went directly to the source of light, a small desk lamp in the far corner of the room. Obviously this was not the bathroom. Her gaze was then drawn to the center of the room, where a queen-sized bed sat beneath a window. The bed was moving. No, not the bed, but a strange shape underneath a white sheet. No, that wasn’t right, either. As her eyes adjusted, she saw that it was not a strange shape at all; it appeared to be two unclothed bodies. She could make out the girl’s bare arms, spread wide on either side, as if she had fallen backward onto the bed and simply maintained this same position. The boy was on top of her. The sheet had slipped down to reveal the upper portion of his buttocks and she could see his back muscles flexing as he rocked rhythmically back and forth. She stood rooted to the floor for what seemed like an eternity, petrified by uncertainty as to how she could retreat without being noticed.
Placing a foot gingerly behind her, one step at a time, she was nearly out the door when a disconcerting whimper broke her concentration and she gasped involuntarily. Her hand flew to c
over her mouth and she watched as the boy’s head turned in slow motion, like a scene from a bad movie where the action is heavily exaggerated in order to build suspense.
“What the fuck?” he said. This, too, reached her ears as if the soundtrack had been slowed considerably. She willed her feet to move, spun away, and slammed the door.
Back in the darkened hallway, she stood panting like she’d just run the mile in Personal Fitness. She desperately needed a place to sit down. She began to open all remaining doors as quietly as possible, in search of the bathroom. On the very last try, she finally found what she was looking for.
After a good five minutes, she felt as though she was ready to process what she’d just seen. And what exactly was that? This was the pivotal question. Because there was something not at all right about the two people in that bedroom.
She needed to sort through her emotions and think logically. Jumping to conclusions would only make things worse. OK. So. The logical explanation was as follows: two very drunk people had decided to satisfy their urges by sneaking off to a private room to roll around in the sheets together. The odd thing was, only one of them seemed to be doing the “rolling.”
But maybe that’s how it was supposed to go. How should she know? She was no expert in sexual positions and the necessary motions that accompanied them. However, she assumed that if two people were willingly participating in such an activity, shouldn’t they both be enjoying it? Which led to the uncertainty of the physical condition of one of the participants.
Now she was ready to put a name on the faces—more like on the bodies. What on earth was Lauren thinking? Was that sadly unromantic scene her idea of a good time? Impossible! As far as she knew, Lauren was not that kind of girl.
As far as she knew.
Maybe she didn’t know anything anymore. Her friends were changing and she remained stuck with the same attitudes as a fifth grader: sex was gross. At least when reduced to a basic physical act rather than an emotional one. Was she the only one who felt this way? The only girl in this house who thought that maybe she was special enough to wait for a more appealing opportunity to present itself? Wasn’t it best to save this act for a time when it would actually mean something?
Obviously her ideas were totally out of style. Yet it was a distinct possibility that Lauren had overindulged in the mysterious red drink and now had absolutely no idea what she was doing. She had let her attraction to Nathan get in the way of her better judgment. She had let him pressure her into going off alone together. Now she was literally unconscious and at the mercy of his desires.
If this was true, then someone should get in there and help her. Lauren needed help. But who would that someone be? Not her. She was not going back in that bedroom. Therefore, the only other course of action would be to go downstairs and tell somebody. But she didn’t think she could do that, either. Just whom would she tell? Who would even care?
No. Telling someone was actually a really stupid idea. In fact, she was sure now that she had it all wrong. It wasn’t like Lauren had been forced to go upstairs with Nathan earlier. She’d been giggling and grabbing onto him. Imagine the embarrassment if someone were to burst in to rescue her when she was never in danger in the first place.
This whole night was turning into a nightmare. Her head hurt more than ever. There was nothing she could do for her friend. She had to get out of this house.
She returned downstairs in hopes of making a fast exit, only to discover that Declan was not where she’d left him. She made two circuits round, eventually bumping into the girl from the sofa. “Have you seen Declan?” she asked, trying to sound calm.
“Front porch,” the girl replied, stumbling slightly and spilling the sticky red drink all over Vivien’s arm.
Threading her way through the crowd, she spotted him at last, on the far corner of the porch, talking to three of his lacrosse teammates. She recognized Thomas as he took his turn with a joint, puckering his lips and sucking until his cheeks caved in and his eyes screwed shut.
Declan looked up and saw her. “Vivien! Where’ve you been? I’ve been looking all over for you.”
She frowned. That certainly wasn’t what it looked like at the moment. “I went to the bathroom. I told you that.”
“Right. But I checked there—the one off the kitchen? You weren’t in there.”
Hearing there was actually a bathroom on the first floor only made her feel more miserable. She wished she could close her eyes and magically transport herself home. She’d had just about all she could handle. Of course, no such thing happened. She continued to be stuck in the present, standing there looking pathetic.
Declan set his bottle of beer on the porch railing and went directly to her. “What’s the matter? Are you OK?”
“I really want to leave. Can we go now?”
“Did something happen?”
“No.” She passed a hand over her forehead. “I think I’m getting sick or something. My head hurts.”
“All right. Let’s go. No problem.” Slipping his arm around her waist, he guided her down the front steps, turning at the bottom to wave at his buddies. A string of insults ensued.
“Pussy! Whatcha bailin’ for, dude? Did your mommy call you home?”
“Shit, man. The party’s just gettin’ started!”
Declan ignored them and opened the passenger side door for her. Seconds after pulling away, she faced him, physically shaking with emotions she could no longer suppress. Why had he taken her to this stupid party? she wanted to scream. Didn’t he notice how horribly awkward she felt? No. He’d spent most of the time enjoying himself with other people. And she’d thought he was different. But he was just the same as everyone in there, obsessed with getting wasted and whoring around like this was completely normal behavior.
“Stop the car!” she exploded. “What are you doing driving? I saw you drinking beer. And weren’t you actually smoking too, just now?” She reached for the door handle, “I need to find another way home.”
“What the hell?” Declan exclaimed, slamming his foot on the brakes. They came to a complete halt in the middle of the street. He turned to her, his face bewildered. “Where’s this coming from?
She only shook her head, refusing to look at him.
“Listen! Vivien. I only had a few sips. I swear! Then I dumped it. I dumped it and filled the bottle with water so I’d have something to hold in my hand—I do that sometimes, when I’m not in the mood to drink and I don’t want people giving me shit.” He began to reach out to her but appeared to change his mind halfway through, gripping the steering wheel once more and staring straight ahead.
“You don’t think I know what your reputation is?” she spat at him. “I’m such an idiot for thinking you were different. You…you’re…” She was so upset she couldn’t manage to complete her thought.
“OK, hold on just a sec. I might party now and then. But that doesn’t mean I go around acting like a complete asshole.”
She stared fixedly at him.
“I’m not a stoner. I don’t drink and drive. Ever. I would never do that to you.” He dropped his hands and began rubbing his fists back and forth over his thighs. “You gotta believe me. I wanted to be here…with you!”
She felt the tears begin to pool and make their inevitable descent. “Well…you actually weren’t. I felt really out of place in there. Oh…” she moaned, “This night…” She covered her face with her hands and slumped down in her seat. “Please just take me home now.”
The silence was thick and suffocating. At last she felt the car begin to move, but she kept her eyes closed.
How could this have happened? How could everything be ruined? Before it had even truly begun, it was over.
Ten