“Did Trevor go upstairs?” I ask, my eyes not able to adjust to meet Cody’s in the dark. I can tell he’s sitting with his feet propped up on the hood of a car. I barely make out the bottle as he raises it to his lips, but the closer I get, the more alcohol I can smell. It’s whiskey, I think, though I’m not sure. Mac drank whiskey, but only on special occasions.
Cody just chuckles at me—slow and quiet, like it’s a secret he wants only me to hear. It has me stopping in my tracks and my skin covered in goosebumps. There’s something about him that has my heart racing tonight, but not the safe rush of flirtation like before. I’m anxious, and my stomach feels sick. I swallow hard, and turn to look over my shoulder, instantly wishing that I had just gone upstairs. When I look back, I see Cody in my personal space. I can see his eyes now, the familiar warmth in them gone. No blue. No sparkle. No crinkles cluing me into his mouth and smile. What are left in their place are eyes that are cold, hard, and lifeless.
I startle as he reaches forward and grabs a lock of my hair from my bare shoulder, grazing my skin, and then twisting it in his fingers and studying it, like he’s searching for the shimmer from the moonlight. I’m left shivering.
“Yeah, pretty boy went up stairs,” he says, his voice rough.
“Okay, well…I’m just going to go find him. Nice to see you,” I say, backing away so my hair falls from his fingers. He bites his tongue lightly with his teeth, almost like he’s struggling with something, and then his eyes flicker to mine, and his lips curl into a faint, unnerving smile.
“Trevor pays for all your shit, huh?” he asks. I suck in a breath at his bold statement. I’m confused, and I know I should also be offended, but something about his face is keeping my feet firm to the ground. Like I’m challenging him, but giving him the benefit of the doubt all at once.
“What do you mean? What shit?” I ask, folding my arms in front of me, partly for protection, and partly to hold in the anger that I can feel simmering in my belly.
“I mean like school and shit. This house, where you stay? He’s like…your ticket, isn’t he?” Cody says, bitterness and disgust just oozing from his posture, his face, his words—his everything. “I mean, that’s why you’re with him, right? He gets to take you to dinners and clubs, like arm candy, and you get a place to stay and your tuition covered.”
Cody starts to laugh to himself a little, and he stumbles on his feet. He wipes his sleeve along his mouth from his last drink. I’m digesting his words, my mind catching up to them, and beginning to understand what he’s insinuating, when he leaves no more doubt.
“So, what would this buy me?” he asks, handing me a crumpled up twenty dollar bill, and moving in closely, dipping his head down low so he can graze his nose along the nape of my neck, his lips stopping against my ear. I know I should back away, but I’m paralyzed by his touch—both afraid and aroused, the contradiction playing out inside my heart almost breaking it in half. “Does that get me a kiss?”
The sound of his insult reverberates throughout the empty garage and carries out into the night air. I see it all in slow motion, the cold fog escaping his lips as he forms that last word and punctuates it, digging into my heart like a needle. His face is twisted and hateful, his eyes not even seeing me for me anymore.
I slap him so hard the bottle falls from his hands and breaks into pieces on the garage floor. “Go f**k yourself!” I say, turning to the stairs to go find Trevor. I don’t run, because I’m not afraid. I haven’t been truly afraid of anything since the day Mac died. And somewhere in the back of my mind, I feel like I can hear my father’s voice whispering to me, telling me I should hit the ass**le again. I look back at him one last time before I round the corner, and he’s holding his mouth in his hand, his head still tilted sideways from my impact, but his eyes firmly on me—like daggers.
I find Trevor talking to a few women right inside the door. When he sees me, he reaches for my hand, and I notice two of the girls, who are barely dressed and are covered in piercings and tattoos, laugh and roll their eyes. Trevor just pulls my hand to his lips and kisses it. “These are some of Cody’s friends. I was just explaining to them that this really isn’t Cody’s house, and my dad’s not really keen on having big parties. It pisses off the neighbors,” Trevor says, his face stern, like a schoolteacher giving a lecture. “Ladies? If you could let your friends know, and maybe wrap this thing up a little early, I’d be really grateful.”