Escape In You (17 page)

“I should be the one asking that,” she snarls. “What the hell is wrong with you, Zoe?”

“Nothing.” I finally manage to pull my arm away.

Grace laughs bitterly. “Oh, yeah. Nothing is wrong. Sure. It’s totally normal behavior to sit all alone at a party polishing off a fifth of vodka.”

“Leave me alone, Grace.” I close my eyes again.

“So this is how it is for you now, huh? Hanging out with burnouts all the time, getting hammered every chance you get?”

“Fuck you.” Now I’m pissed. My eyes snap open, and I glare at her. “You don’t know the first thing about my friends, so you can just keep your mouth shut.”

“Friends.” She makes a scathing noise. “Yeah. Your friends who leave you alone like this to get wasted all by yourself. Great friends.”

“At least they accept me.” My heart is beating hard now. I think I might burst into tears or slap her—or both. “At least they don’t try to change me. At least they didn’t ditch me when things got rough for me.”

Her entire face changes, hardens. Her skin becomes red, and her eyes narrow to slits. “I never ditched you, you ungrateful bitch. I was there, Zoe. I was always there. You’re the one who pushed me away. You’re the one who didn’t want
me
around.”

I rub my eyes. She’s right, of course, but what the hell could I do? She was going to school, she was going to have the life we had both dreamed of. And I was stuck right here, right where I’d always been, with no hope of it ever changing. Still, I can’t let it go.

“Everyone else, Gemma and Kaitlin, they all dropped me so fast when the rumors started. Every one of them turned on me, and you know it.”

“I’m not talking about everyone else,” she yells. We’re attracting attention now, and I just want to hide, cower in a corner somewhere with my drink. But she doesn’t lower her voice. “I’m talking about
me
, Zoe. Me and you. I wanted to help you, wanted to be there—”

“I didn’t want your help,” I hiss. “I was some fucking charity case for you, huh? Real nice friend.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Her voice is quiet now, sad and disgusted. “
Pathetic
. You could have been so much more than this, Zoe. Things got tough, and you threw it all away. And blamed everyone but yourself.”

The fight goes right out of me. She’s right. I am pathetic, worthy of her disgust. That’s pretty damn obvious. A wave of tiredness crashes over me. I wish I was at home, in bed. But, really, my home is pretty much the problem.

“Just leave me alone, okay, Grace? I don’t need this.”

She stares at me for what feels like minutes, her eyes right on mine. I’m struck with the strangest desire to reach out and grab her, fall into her arms and let her hug me. I’m angry at her, angry at myself, but there’s a part of me that just misses her so damn much.

“Fine,” she finally whispers. Are those tears in her eyes? “I’ll leave you to your fucking drink, Zoe.”

Then she’s gone, and I’m alone on the couch. Alone with nothing but the bottle in my hand. I wish Ellie were here, wish I hadn’t even come. But I am here, and there’s nothing I can do to change that now. All I can do is sit here and listen to Grace’s words run over and over again in my head. See the disgusted, pitying look on her face. I imagine what I must look like to her. Every summer she comes home and sees me, and every summer I’m worse than I was before. Thinner. Sadder. Older. More and more brain cells wasted over a bottle just like this one. Never moving or growing or accomplishing anything.

I can see myself through her eyes, all right. I know what she must think of me. And the bitch of the matter is she’s right. I
am
wasting my life, wasting my time. I’m stuck here, trapped, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.

So I do the only thing I can do; I raise the bottle to my lips and take another drink. And another after that.

And another after that.

Chapter Fifteen

Taylor

I can tell from the moment we walk in that Zoe isn’t comfortable. She drops my hand as soon as we enter the foyer, and doesn't take it again even as we’re jostled through the crowd in the hallway. As we head back for the kitchen, she scans the crowd. Probably looking for Ellie. Something about the way her eyes dart back and forth, almost as if she’s nervous, pisses me off. Can she not have fun at a party without Ellie? Am I not good enough company for her? Or maybe she just doesn’t trust that I’ll be able to shield her from this crowd, from these people.

In the kitchen, she makes a beeline straight past the keg to the counter and several bottles of hard liquor. I’m not surprised when she picks up an unopened bottle of vodka. I suppress a sigh. It’s obvious she’s planning to get hammered straight off the bat. I don’t know why that bothers me as much as it does.

With the vodka in hand, she heads straight to the stairs, stopping once to look over her shoulder to see if I’m following. I want a beer first, and the line to the keg is long, so I wave her ahead. She goes without a second glance.

“Jet, man, you made it.”

I turn and see Preston approaching across the kitchen. He slaps me on the back and points in the direction of the stairs. “That’s what’s been keeping you so busy all summer, eh? Well done, dude. She’s hot.”

I suppress the urge to shove him. “Yeah, man, whatever.”

He grins lasciviously. “Losing interest already, huh? Maybe I can step in when you’re done with her, have my turn.”

My first instinct is to punch him in his stupid, smug little face. But that would reveal just how serious I am about her, and I don’t want our relationship turned into party gossip. Not with the kind of jerks who are here. Taking a deep breath, I turn for the beer line. “You’re an asshole.”

He slaps my back again. “I know, man, I know. Hey, have fun, okay? I’ll catch you later.”

He’s just an idiot
, I tell myself.
Not worth getting pissed about
. Still, I have to flex my hands to keep them steady as I get in line for beer. I’m so distracted trying to keep calm that I don’t even notice who’s in front of me until she turns to face me. I barely manage not to groan when I realize I’m standing face to face with Sarah.

“Hey, Jet,” she says, and her voice brings up a hundred memories I’d rather forget. “It’s been a while.”

I nod. “Hey, Sarah. How’ve you been?”

It’s a pointless question. I know exactly how Sarah has been. I’ve had a front row seat to the destruction of my brother’s girl over the past four years.

She gives me a wide smile, but it does little to cover the pain in her eyes. I wish there were a way to make it easier for her, to help her move on after all this time. It’s just one more area where I failed him. More than anything else, I’m sure my brother can't forgive my inability to take care of Sarah after he died.

“Oh, you know. About the same.” She lifts a hand to move her hair from her face, and I get a momentary glimpse of her bare arm. The scars stand out against her pale skin, and I clench my teeth at the sight of them.

She must catch me looking, because she blushes and hurriedly pulls her sleeves down.

“I wish you’d let me help you, Sarah,” I say, my voice soft. “Jim wouldn't have wanted—”

She laughs bitterly. “Seriously? You think you can help me?” She looks me up and down. “Like you’re in such better shape than me? I know how well you’ve dealt, Jet.”

My stomach drops. She’s right, of course. How much help could I offer someone when I can't even get my own shit together? Was her cutting herself really much worse than any of the shit I pulled? I’ve basically been drunk or hungover ever since the day of the funeral. Not to mention the weed I’ve smoked to make the noise in my head stop, or the dudes I’ve fucked up in bars when the anger became too much, or girls I’ve screwed for a little release. No good to her. No good to anyone.

“Yeah,” I mumble, looking down. “You’re right.”

She’s quiet for a moment. We’re almost to the front of the line. Finally, she sighs. “It doesn’t matter, right? Whatever it takes to get through the day.” She looks around the crowded kitchen at our peers, each in various stages of drunkenness. An angry expression comes over her features. “At least we admit that life sucks, you know? At least we’re not in fucking denial, like all these assholes.”

We’ve reached the front of the line now, and she fills her cup with beer before turning to face me fully. “Whatever it takes to get through,” she repeats. I nod, helpless. She gives me one last fleeting smile before she slips through the crowds and disappears.

“Hey, buddy, hurry the fuck up,” a voice behind me calls. I shake my head, having forgotten where I am for a second. Beer is no longer appealing. I duck out of line and head for the liquor counter. I know Zoe has vodka downstairs, but I need something more, something sure to wipe this entire fucking night away. I grab a bottle of tequila and take off for the stairs.

I find Zoe in the rec room, the same place we’d first met. She’s sitting with Mary, passing the bottle of vodka between them. Even from across the room, I can see a good portion of it is gone. I catch her eye as I enter the room, and she gives me a little wave but doesn't motion for me to join them. Not that I blame her. She doesn't need my shit in her life. No one does. I sit next to Fred on one of the other couches and open my own bottle, taking a long swig.

“You okay, man?” he asks.

I snicker. “Oh, yeah. Swell.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

I take another gulp. “I ran into Sarah upstairs.”

He grimaces. “Sorry, man. I know that’s always rough.”

“Yeah,” I say, but the truth is, he doesn't know. No one can possibly know what it does to me to see Sarah the way she is now. My brother loved that girl, loved her in a way I had never fully understood. It wasn’t just some teenaged infatuation, either. They looked at each other in a way I’ve never once seen my parents look at each other. In the end, when he was so sick he couldn’t even get out of bed anymore, when we all knew time was running out, she’d proposed to him. She said she wanted them linked forever, no matter what happened. I think she was hoping it might be enough to pull him through after all, the thought of the two of them getting married.

It didn’t work. He died and Sarah slipped farther and farther away. I wonder if he would even recognize her anymore. The thought hurts my chest so bad I feel like I might scream. Instead, I take another pull of tequila, willing it to do its job quickly. I need to forget.

***

I lose track of Zoe after a while. I watch Everett and Hunter join a group of kids playing pool in the next room, and she doesn’t go with them. She also isn’t on the other couch. I know I should get up and find her, but the alcohol has taken over, muddling my brain. I’ve finally achieved some peace, and I really don't want to do anything except sit right where I am.

“Have you seen Zoe?” I ask Fred. I’m vaguely aware that my voice is a lot more slurred than I would have thought. It’s going to be bad when I finally stand up.

“She went upstairs with Everett.”

Wait, she left the basement? How had I not seen her?

“You’ve been zoning out,” Fred says.

I should go find her. Everett won't let her do anything stupid, like try to drive, but Stef and her friends are upstairs. I’m not crazy about her running into them in the state she’s surely in.

I pull myself up on unsteady legs, stumbling slightly. Fred jumps up and grabs my shoulder to steady me. “You okay, man?”

“Fine,” I say, and push him off. “I just need a second.” Once I’m sure I can move without falling over, I head toward the stairs. I’m frustrated by how slow my progress is. I keep bumping into things.

When I finally reach the main floor, the room is spinning. I really need to lie down, sleep it off, but I want to find Zoe first. Though she hasn’t done much to show me that she cares whether I find her or not. She’s been avoiding me all night.

“Hey, man,” Everett says. Where the hell did he come from? I close my eyes tightly, willing the room to stop spinning. The music is too loud. “You okay?” Everett asks, sounding very far away. “You gonna hurl?”

I shake my head, the motion nearly knocking me over. I put a hand out against the wall, and try to get myself under control. “Zoe,” I finally mumble. I open my eyes. “You see Zoe?”

Everett points towards the stairs to the second level. “She went to find somewhere to lie down. She was pretty trashed.”

I don't like the idea of her up there alone, asleep. Any asshole could walk in. “You let her go alone?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, man, your boy was with her. Preston. Said he’d find her a quiet place where no one would bug her. I figured that was cool, since it’s his house, right?”

Something about this is very, very wrong. Behind the tequila haze, an alarm bell is going off, sobering me up slightly.

“You sure you’re okay?” Everett asks again. I nod and push off from the wall. I need to get to Zoe.

The room is so crowded, and my feet feel so unsteady. All I want is to lie down until the spinning stops, to hang onto something so that the world can right itself. But there’s a little shot of panic coursing through me, and it keeps me going.

I make it up the stairs and look down the long hallway. Why the fuck are there so many bedrooms?
Preston’s room
, a voice in my head says. He’d have taken her there. Sure enough the door at the end of the hallway is shut. I lumber that way, stopping a few times to steady myself on the wall. When I’m a few feet away, I hear a noise that turns my blood to ice—Zoe is screaming.

It’s muffled, small and pathetic sounding, but that somehow makes it much worse. By the time the scream stops, I’m pulling on the door handle, my heart beating so fast I think I might pass out. It’s locked.

“Zoe?” I try to yell, but my voice still isn’t working right. I push on the door. “Let me in!”

There’s no answer. Zoe is quiet now, and the silence terrifies me more than the scream had. Something changes inside me—the haze lifts and is replaced with an anger so intense it makes my breath short. With a roar, I kick the door in.