NovelEnglishWINE LAURA
This party was already living up to my worst expectations. The living room was packed with people pressed too
close together, music pulsing so loud it drowned out my thoughts. If | could just get a decent buzz, I'd find a
quiet spot and let the night pass without incident. | wandered through the house, dodging clusters of people in
letterman jackets and cocktail dresses. They leaned against walls, perched on furniture, and sprawled over
counters, laughing and shouting over the music. Everywhere | turned, someone was either pouring another drink
or taking another shot.
Freddy's house was insane, | had to give him credit for that. His parents had a decorator's taste-or maybe just
money. Chandeliers gleamed overhead, and the polished floors
reflected the light in a way that seemed almost too perfect for a party like this.
This party was going to be horrible, but if | get enough alcohol into my system, | can go find an empty room and
hide there while Jess and Sam... get it on or something.
| wander through the room, watching pretty girls fawn over well-built jocks, and fight the urge to roll my eyes.
This house is insane. | have to give it to Freddy. His parent shave good taste.
| spot a bottle of red wine that everyone seems to ignore
WINE
between all the kegs and hard liquor.
Fighting my way past a group of girls who give my purple dress more than once over, | wipe it off the table and
smile at myself. Success! Now, just for the room...
Turning around, | see a small entrance beneath the stairs. The stairs, | assume, lead to a room upstairs... | don't
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇteven want to think about what happens up those stairs...
From the corner of my eye, | spot Sam chatting with a few guys, a massive smile plastered on her face. | wish |
had her confidence, but | just don't. Even Jess seems to be fending for herself.
Just pathetic oldwho can't seem to muster up the courage to even look at a guy. Taking a sip from the bottle,
firm hands clasp around my waist. "This dress!" Someone laughs behind me, and | feel his hands trail lower. |
shimmy out of his hold and turn on him. It's a jock for sure but not from our school. "Hands off, asshole," |
mumbled, stepping back into a wall.
Wait no. Not a wall. A person. A big person. | look over my shoulder to see Josh staring at the guy | just bumped
into. "You good?" He finally asked, and | gulped, nodding once. | couldn't form words. What would | say...
Instead, | stepped out of the way and watched Josh stare down the handsy guy until he walked away. Turning
around, he flasheda grin. His eyes sparkled. | could see the blue hues from here, and all | could think of was
trying to paint that color. "What?" he asked, cocking his head, and | snapped out of my
trans.
"Nothing." I shook my head. "Was just looking for a quiet
12.25
WINE
288 Wouchert
corner," | said, and Josh chuckled. "It's not happening in this place. Oh wait - | think they have like a formal
dining hall or something." Josh rubbed the stubble on his chin and looked behindto the entrance | was about
to head into before | got sidetracked. Folding my lips in, | exhaled through my nose. "Thanks." | spun around
before he could say anything else. | found the dining hall three doors down. It was dark, but there was enough
light that | could make out the table. | found a switch, and tiny lights lit up around the room, each hovering
above a piece of art, and | think my heart stopped. The pieces in here must be worth a fortune!
There were different styles: oils, acrylic, realism, and abstraction. A pastel one caught my attention first. It was
of a city filled with lights, and | could see the Eiffel Tower-Paris. | leaned back, lifted the bottle to my mouth, and
took a swallow before signing. "Paris..." | mumbled, thinking about all the art and possibilities there.
I" n
You want to go someday?" A rough
voice pierced the silence, and |
almost choked, dropping the bottle.
Josh caught it before hitdhe’
' 0 9
ground Feutbal reflexes," he said
sheepishly and handedback my
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bottle. "Didn't know you were a
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drinker..." he said, folding his arms
across his chest - making the
muscles bulge and strain against the
cotton fabric. The content is on
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