Seriously, who is he texting?
“Liam,” I call his attention.
“What?” he snaps, catching me off-guard.
I purse my lips, frowning. “Aren’t we leaving now?”
Pocketing his phone, he huffs in annoyance before starting the ignition and pulling out of the curb.
That's when it hits me—he didn’t even kiss me hello.
*******
I'm not surprised to see Carson’s beach house overflowing with people and the music blaring at top volume. Like I said, she throws extravagant parties. Half of these attendees probably don’t even go to Holy Oaks Prep. But when music fills the air and alcohol flows around, it doesn't matter who’s who. At least, until the party's over.
Walking up to the front door, I almost get hit by a throng of drunk girls laughing and running from equally drunk guys. Scowling after them, I inch closer to my boyfriend, only to find him already walking ahead of me. Like I'm not even with him.
Blowing out a breath, I walk faster to catch up to him, entwining my fingers with his when I do.
Liam frowns a little at our clasped hands but doesn’t say anything.
Seriously, what’s with him tonight? Come to think of it, he's been acting weird these past few weeks. Like he's distancing himself from me. Is it because we haven't been spending time together lately? It's football season and he's always busy with practice, while I'm involved with extracurriculars and working on my college portfolio.
It's mainly the reason why I let my friends badger me into coming here. I was looking forward to spending some time with Liam. But with the way he's acting, I'm starting to think he doesn't feel the same way.
And who was he texting a while back? I hope Peyton wasn’t right when she made a comment about boys being susceptible to temptation when their girlfriends aren’t around to keep an eye on them. I don’t even know why she said that. Her boyfriend, Parker Holloway, has been nothing but loyal since they started dating junior year. And it's not like they are having problems. Surely, she’d tell me if there are any.
Maybe Liam is just feeling a little neglected. Maybe he's still pissed that I'd rather stay home than watch him practice from the bleachers. He's always complaining that I don't care about the sport. That's true, I really don't. But it doesn't mean I'm not being supportive from the sidelines. In fact, I come to his games every once in a while. But it seems like it's not enough.
In any case, I have to make it up to him. I need to show him how important he is to me. Hmmm...maybe a surprise date next weekend? I'll have to coordinate our schedules first. Maybe Peyton can help me plan it. She's friends with Liam. She won't mind for sure.
“You made it!” A squealing Quinn suddenly appears in front of me, breaking off my thoughts as she throws her arms around me and smothers me with her thick blonde locks.
I can smell alcohol on her breath, which tells me she’s on her way to being drunk—if she's not there already.
“Ugh. Will you settle down? You’re acting like you haven’t seen her in a year.” Peyton is right behind Quinn, looking sophisticated in her short black dress, a red Solo cup in her hand. She shoots our friend an irritated look before giving me a tight smile. “You’re late.”
“And she needs to keep up fast.” Brayden walks up to us, his curly black hair and dark bronze skin slightly glistening with sweat. “Drink up, missy,” he orders in a firm voice, extending a cup to me.
“You know I don’t have any plans of getting drunk tonight, right?” I glance around, noticing that Liam isn't next to me anymore.
“If you’re looking for your boyfriend, he’s already heading toward the game room,” Brayden tells me, gesturing a few meters away to an open door where, sure enough, Liam is walking into.
I catch a glimpse of his friends, Giovanni Russo and Bennett King, playing pool before the door closes behind him.
Disappointment hits me. So much for hanging out at the party together.
Quinn nudges me. “What’s with the scowl? You just got here.”
“I think she’d rather give him puppy-dog eyes than hang out with us,” Peyton says dryly.
“Please.” Brayden rolls his eyes, smirking. “We’re more fun than that bunch.”
“Exactly.” Quinn raises her cup then takes a drink, throwing it over her shoulder when it turns empty. I give her my cup, which she happily guzzles down. “Now, let’s go to the rooftop.”
Peyton takes out her phone. “You know what? You, guys, go right ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Wait—” I say, but Quinn is already pulling my hand while Brayden clears the path for us. When I look over my shoulder for Peyton, she's already disappeared through the crowd.
People greet us as we make our way to the rooftop, but thankfully we don’t stop to talk to any of them. I’m feeling a little claustrophobic at how packed the place is. So when we finally reach the top, I make sure to take a lungful of fresh air, relieved that this part at least isn't overcrowded.
There’s a mini bar in the far corner of the rooftop, and Brayden is already making a beeline for the alcohol.
Quinn leads me to the huge circular couch facing the majestic view of the beach, with a roaring fire pit right in the middle of its center table. If the Whitfields were aiming for a cozy and inviting vibe, they nailed it.
With a sigh, I plop down next to Quinn, making sure to save a space for Brayden. “Is Peyton going to join us here?”
“She’d probably rather make out with Parker downstairs.”
To be honest, I prefer a makeout session, too. Not with Parker, obviously. With Liam. But it’s starting to look like my boyfriend doesn’t feel the same.
I really have a lot of making up to do.
“Who wouldn’t? Her boyfriend is the hottest guy in school,” Brayden interjects, catching up
