Page 24

As EDM music begins to play, people start jumping around us, the pulsating beat vibrating the floor. The smell of sweat and heavy perfume lingers around me.

Sean pulls my body close to his, keeping his eyes on mine. He brushes a strand of hair from my face, a smile spread across his face.

He holds onto my sides as we follow along to the beat, bouncing up and down.

“This is fun!” I try to tell him, but it’s too loud.

He lowers his head. “With you it is,” he says, his lips brushing against my ear and his hands locked on my spine.

There’s that undeniable spark. With our hands touching and dancing close together, I know that I could never feel this way about anyone else.

Peyton is staring at us from the corner with folded arms.

After a few minutes of dancing, I pull Sean to the dining room again. The liquor has seemingly doubled and so has the amount of intoxicated underage people.

Sean stays close, keeping his grip tight around me.

“It was kinda hot watching you sass Peyton.” He chuckles.

I swallow as my throat begins to dry. “He makes it pretty easy.”

“I know he does.”

“Why do you hangout with him anyway? You’re too sweet for him.”

Lines fill at the corners of his mouth as he shrugs. “I don’t know. We’ve known each other since middle school. He only recently became this unbearable.”

“You’re too good for him.”

“Maybe.”

“No, you are. You’re perfect, Sean.”

He shakes his head. “No one's perfect.”

“In my eyes, you’re perfect. I mean look at you.” I extend my arm, gesturing from his head to his toes. “You’re like—the definition of the perfect man.”

“The way you’re talking, people might mistake us for a couple. You need to be careful,” he jokes, leaning his forehead against mine, narrowing his eyes.

I fake a little sigh. “Gee, if only people knew the truth. That you’re leaving me,” I overly exasperate.

He shakes his head, but this time he doesn’t have a smile. He just stares off into the other room.

Two people smack their mouths together in the corner, in their own inappropriate world.

I grab a random bottle and pour another shot to distract myself from the fact that I wish that were me and Sean.

As quickly as I picked it up, it’s swiped out of my hands.

Sean shakes his head at me, holding the bottle high in the air. “Haven’t you ever heard of not mixing your alcohol?” He frowns.

I had vanilla vodka before and he’s holding a bottle of tequila. Whoops.

“No.” I can feel my cheeks redden, though it may just be from the dancing.

He grabs the same bottle I had earlier and pours me a small shot. “Last one,” he scolds.

“But I’ve only had one.” I quiver my lips jokingly.