Mess To Be Made

50

The noise.

It was deafening. Staring into a sea of already sloshed, sweaty bodies, my ears practically throbbed from the shrill house music, blanketed by conversations that were really just people yelling at one another to be heard over the vibrations of the bass.

When Lindsay announced during lunch earlier this week that she was "tired of wallowing over some asshole"—which I wholeheartedly agreed with—and wanted to go to Landon's party this Saturday—which I wholeheartedly did not agree with—I knew I was fucked.

I used to be the one insisting we go to every godforsaken party anyone was talking about. Yet there I was, sitting in the backseat of her car, a growing pool of dread in my gut. Because I, quite simply, did not want to go.

But I had to. It had been almost two weeks since Lindsay found Caleb sleeping with another girl and, for the first time since, she had some type of desire to do anything other than crawl into bed and watch sad rom-coms or horror movies all night. There was no question in my mind. If Lindsay wanted to go, we were going.

But the gears in my mind began turning the second this realization set in. Because there was no way I was going to Landon's without Tyler.

I talked to Sean and made it a group thing—we would go over to his house and pregame with his friends, and all of us would go to Landon's together.

And then I skillfully planted the seed in his mind of inviting Scott. Ever since playing pool together at my birthday, Sean and Scott had been friendly with one another and I often came across them stopping to talk to each other whenever they crossed paths at school.

Sean loved the idea of inviting Scott, who tentatively accepted, as expected. And, as expected, he immediately put pressure on Tyler to go too.

A perfect scheme executed flawlessly, if I do say so myself. And so, after much convincing from Scott that it would be fun, and promising from me that we would leave within an hour, Tyler was cornered and reluctantly agreed.

Now I wondered if my plan was really perfect and flawless. Because standing next to Tyler at the threshold of Landon's front door—the same door I had last run out of in tears before, ironically, calling Tyler to come pick me up—this suddenly seemed like an awful idea.

As if he could feel my tenseness—and maybe he could—his long fingers threaded through mine. The action had my gaze tearing away from the chaotic scene unfolding in front of us to look up at him.

His eyes were two hazelnut pools that swam with concern.

I attempted a carefree smirk, though it was useless. At this point, he could see through my mask and his eyes only darkened further at my plastic smile. My voice came out tighter than I would've liked when I asked, "What?"

His eyes narrowed and the throbbing in my ears was now between my legs. His attention on me, his observance of me... I swear, if we weren't in public, I'd have jumped on him right there.

But we were in public. Very public actually. People weren't even trying to hide their stares.

I well knew there was a rumor mill going around about "Allie and some rando." Which wasn't surprising, given we'd been consistently hanging out over the past few weeks—carpooling to and from school, eating lunch together.

This was different though. This wasn't school public. This was public public.

This was Allie-who-will-hook-up-with-any-guy-and-never-dates-anyone walks into a party with a guy. And then holds his hand.

"Stop undressing me with your eyes," Tyler leaned down to whisper in my ear and I had to suppress a groan at the suggestion in his voice and words.

I hadn't even realized I'd been so obviously staring. A real smile slipped across my lips and my cheeks were suddenly warm as I scoffed playfully. "You wish."