Hey, Darling.

It had been four days and he hadn’t called. The only action my cell phone had seen had been from my mother (calling to clear her guilty conscious) and my grandmother (calling to wonder where we were). On the outside, I smiled about it. I rubbed it in Mia’s face and pretended the no, I did not care. I didn’t want him to have my number anyway.

On the inside, I felt the sinking in the pit of my stomach. Of course I cared. I was human, wasn’t I?

I was trying to shove that part of me way down though, and let the happiness shine through.

It was a Friday night and I was sitting outside in my grandma’s backyard, reading on the porch swing. It was enjoyable out here. The silence was intoxicating, and my grandma was a gardener, so I had an abundance of wildflowers to give me inspiration.

Even with all of this, I was still bored. I was staring at the pages of my book without really absorbing anything. I didn’t feel like reading.

I didn’t feel like being here.

I didn’t even know where Mia was. I hadn’t seen her at all today, seeing as she was gone before I woke up. She had been doing that a lot more lately - waking up early and then coming in late. Whenever I questioned her whereabouts she would just wave her hand and say she was just “around.” She never extended an invitation to me.

Normally I wouldn’t mind, but I was here alone most days, because I didn’t have a car and my grandma refused to let me walk anywhere by myself. I was starting to get a little resentful.

Heaving a huge sigh, I shut my book and set it down beside me. I stared out at the garden.

I didn’t know what to do with myself. I didn’t want to read. I didn’t want to write. I was sick of TV and sleeping.

I was just starting to calculate the odds of my grandma letting me use her car when my phone vibrated in my lap.

I didn’t let my heart jump. I refused to let my heart jump.

I couldn’t stop it from falling, though, when I saw a picture of Mia flash across the screen.

“Hello?” I answered slowly, silently thankful for something to distract me from thinking about how bored I was.

“Get ‘cho ass dressed, chica,” was shouted back at me full volume, and I had to hold the phone away from my ear.

“Why?” I asked hesitantly, though I was already standing up and heading towards the house.

“’Cause I’m getting you out of that fucking house. Get dressed. I’ll pick you up in an hour. Look hot!”

There was a dial tone before I could even start to say ‘bye’ in return. I rolled my eyes at Mia’s usual childish behavior and started towards the stairs.

I pulled on a yellow sundress and slipped my feet into a pair of black mary-jane wedges before I decided to work on my hair. The red locks were already curled gently, so I pulled the top half up in a plain clip before letting the rest cascade over my shoulders.

I shoved a few things in my tote bag and swiped on a few applications of mascara before deeming myself presentable. I wasn’t necessarily sure if I was “hot” like Mia had asked me to be, but I thought I looked kind of pretty.

Grabbing my stuff, I made my way down the stairs. My grandma was sitting in her tea room, a pot of Earl Grey in front of her and a phone cradled between her ear and shoulder. When she saw me standing there, she told the person on the other line to wait a few seconds.

“I’m going out with Mia,” I told her before she had a chance to ask any questions.

“Where?”

I faltered for a second. “Um…I think we’re just gonna go get some coffee.” I lied.

“In a dress and heels?” She asked skeptically, eyeing my wedges distastefully.

“She said there was going to be a poetry slam and that we should dress nice.” I lied again, this time trying to stop myself from blushing.

I was a horrible liar.

My grandmother sighed once, but I could tell she was giving it up. She didn’t like me enough to actually care if I telling the truth or not.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “Do you need any money?”

I shook my head. “I’ve got some, thanks.”

“Alright then.” She nodded. Then, turning her attention back to the phone, she continued her conversation. “I know, Joan. When we were kids there were no such things as poetry slams…”

I walked out of the room and into the hallway. I stepped outside and pulled my cell phone out of my bag to look at the time.

Mia had ten minutes.

I perched myself on the first step, crossed my legs tastefully, and waited. I was counting down the minutes to see if she was going to be late. Probably.

She surprised me, though, when a black car stopped in front of the house. At first, I was wary. Then, however, the passenger’s side window rolled down and she smiled at me. “Get it, bitch.”

I complied, standing up and brushing off my butt before walking towards the car. I couldn’t see who was driving.

I opened the back door cautiously, and then had to scoot a pile of CD cases and t-shirts out of the way. I sat down and closed the door behind me.

I didn’t even have my seatbelt on when the car jolted to a start.

Mia giggled loudly before turning around to face me. “You look pretty, Molly,” she approved with a nod. “I dunno about hot but you look pretty.”

I rolled my eyes at her. “Mia, it’s not even nine o’clock at night and you’re already tipsy. Have some class, will you?”

The driver laughed. “I tried to stop her but she insisted. And she looks so damn cute when she’s pouting.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to figure out who the guy was. He had brownish blonde hair, and it was straight and grazing his neck (just like Mia liked it) and had a little scruff. He looked attractive from the side, but I couldn’t really be sure.

“Oh!” Mia announced loudly a few minutes later. “I didn’t introduce you! Molly, this is John…we saw him the other day at the grocery store. And Johno, this is my sister Molly, the one who kept on dropping stuff on her foot.”

I blushed, John chuckled, and Mia started laughing hysterically, her entire body shaking. Normally, I would have been embarrassed for her, but John seemed like he knew what Mia was like when she was drunk. He also didn’t seem to mind.

“Um, hi,” I stuttered out, embarrassed. I really made a lasting first impression, didn’t I?

“Nice to meet you,” John replied smoothly, before leaning over and turning up the volume on the stereo.

The rest of the ride was relatively quiet, besides Mia’s random giggles every once in a while. I was busy staring out the window when the car slowed to a stop. We were in front of a normal looking house: two story, blue on the outside, with a wooden porch. It looked like a regular suburban home. However, there were about ten cars scattered over the driveway, lawn, and side streets.

I guessed this was our destination.

I followed behind Mia and John slowly, taking in the array of people. It was almost bad to say, but everyone here looked the same. Skinny jeans, v-neck shirts, and Vans. I shifted uncomfortably in my dress and heels and silently cursing Mia for not explaining the dress code further.

The second we stepped inside the house, it was, “John!” “John O!” “Yo, buddy where you been?”

I blinked, not really believing that this boy was so popular. People embraced Mia too, laughing at the fact that she already well on her way to being drunk. I stood behind awkwardly, taking in the appearance of each person. It seemed like everyone in this house was attractive. The girls had perfect hair and make-up that wasn’t even sliding off because of the heat.

I sighed quietly to myself. This night was not going to be fun.

It wasn’t even because everyone was gorgeous, either - I had no problem with gorgeous people, especially if they were nice. It was just that everyone seemed to be in a tight-knit group, even if there had to be a hundred people in the house, let alone outside. I didn’t like being the outsider. I mean, Mia even looked like she belonged, and we hadn’t even been here two weeks!

“Woah ho,” the boy standing in front of John suddenly shouted. “Who’s the pretty lady?”

I focused my thoughts the conversations suddenly, furrowed my eyebrows, and looked at Mia. How did he not know her?

Both Mia and John shifted to the side, turning to look at me. Was he talking to me?

“This is my sister, Molly,” Mia said slowly, her slurs only slightly audible. She had a red cup in her hand. Where did that come from? “She’s kind of shy.”

At first, I was going to object, but she was right. I was kind of shy. Around new people, at least. Especially around new, attractive people.

“Hellooo,” the boy said, stringing the ‘o’ at the end and leaning in. “I’m Garret.” He then grabbed my hand slowly and brought it up to my lips. He kissed it quickly, and let his face linger there. He was looking at me from under his eyelashes.

The move might have been romantic and suave if he wasn’t so incredibly drunk. I blushed anyway.

“First you’re trying to hurt your foot, and now you’re trying to give your hand an STD!” a voice shouted from the crowd, and we all turned quickly as a familiar face emerged.

It was Kennedy from the grocery store. Half of me wanted to burn up, while the other half started to get angry. He was still being arrogant and had a huge smile on his face.

“I mean, letting Garret touch you’re hand…” he trailed off, shuttering overdramatically. “That’s like a death wish right there.”

“Hey, man!” Garret objected, letting my hand go as he turned to his friend. “I do not have an STD. Just because I misspelled hives on that medical sheet does not mean I have HIV!”

I tuned them out quickly, shaking my head as I attempted to plan my escape. There had to be somewhere else to go in this house.

Mia and John were already off to the side, and she was cuddled into him as he left butterfly kisses on the side of her neck.

Everyone else seemed to be in a group. Talking, laughing, and dancing. There was not one person in the entire house that seemed approachable.

I stepped away from the bickering boys slowly, dodging groups of people as I made my way into the kitchen. One look at the counter and it was obvious that every beverage in this entire house was alcoholic. I refrained from rolling my eyes. I spotted a back door and made my way there slowly, trying to slip by unnoticed.

I felt a few pairs of eyes on me, but I ignored them as I slipped out the door. In the backyard, there were few people. There was a couple leaned against the fence making out and a group of girls sitting by the steps gossiping lowly.

I made my way past them, wishing I had worn flats instead of heels because the click-clack made people look up. I clutched my purse tighter as I stepped onto the grass, turning to the left and wandering. For such a normal house, the backyard was extraordinary. There were trees and bushes everywhere, making it seem like a maze. I pushed a few tree limps away from my face as I made my way towards the center.

I was just searching for a place to sit down. Seven minutes later, I was victorious.

There was a large rocked settled between a tree and a couple of cacti. I smoothed the dirt off the rock before plopping down on it, crossing my legs and resting my head on my propped up fist.

I was bored.

I started to dig through my bag slowly, looking for some type of entertainment. I pulled out a book from the bottom of my bag, staring at it quizzically.

I didn’t remember putting that in there.

I shrugged to myself before turning it over in my hands to look at the title.

“Chez Moi” by Agnes Desarthe stared back at me. The title triggered some recognition in my brain, and I remembered picking the book up at Costco before we left, liking the fact that it was a French novel translated into English. It was also about food, which was another plus.

I opened it to the first page slowly, reading the author’s biography and the acknowledgments before diving into the first chapter.

I liked the book. I could tell that from the second I read the first line. It was choppy and the character seemed a little misguided, but I liked people like that.

I don’t know how long I sat there, engrossed in my book. I was squinting, tilting the book upwards so I could catch some light from the porch when I heard footsteps behind me. I looked around, startled, before dog-earing page 52 and setting the book down beside me.

The person to the left was just a faint shadow, with the features protruding from a silhouetted face. I was trying to make out who it was when a bottle of wine was thrust into my face.

“You didn’t seem much like a beer person,” the figure said, and my heart stretched as I recognized the familiar condescending tone.

Part of me wasn’t in the mood for this. Part of me wanted to continue reading my book. But the other part was glad to finally have some company.

Kennedy walked over to the other side of the rock before sitting down. He titled a body of liquor to his lips.

I stared at him until he swallowed and looked back at me as well.

He reached over and grabbed the bottle of wine from my hands. He twisted the cork off easily before handing it back to me.

I took a small sip hesitantly, even if I didn’t really like wine that much. The feeling of warmth that spread through me was nice though. Welcomed.

“So,” he started, leaning back a little and tilting his head toward me. “Why are you out here?”

“I’m not a big party person,” I answered honestly, taking another sip of the wine, this one larger. The liquid spread through me, and I knew before I even finished the bottle I would have a buzz.

I didn’t hold my alcohol well.

“Then why’d you come?” He didn’t ask it in a mean way, like he was suggesting that I leave. He just seemed genuinely curious. That surprised me.

“Mia asked me to. And I had nothing better to do.” I looked over at him and tried to make out the label on his bottle.

“That sucks,” he said with a nod. As he brought the bottle up, I could read what it said clearly.

“You’re drinking peach-flavored Malibu?” I asked incredulously. He seemed like the type of person to drink manly liquor, not stuff that you usually used with a mixer.

He shrugged. “There wasn’t anything better. It was either wine or Malibu. And I wanted to get drunk.”

“Why’d you want to get drunk?” I questioned, bringing the bottle up to my lips.

He just shrugged again. “I dunno. Felt like something nice to do. And you can get away with sleeping with random chicks when you’re drunk.”

I blinked at him, surprised that he would say something like that, especially to a girl. “Hmm.” I said in response, not wanting to say anything incase I sounded pissed off.

He just proved that he was sleazy and a jerk. All he wanted was in a chick’s pants. I rolled my eyes as I looked out into the backyard.

“Oh, don’t take it all personal,” he sighed, exasperated. “It’s the truth. And I’m drunk. So I dunno what the fuck I’m sayin’.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to talk to him anymore.

The wine was swelling in my system and I felt more emotional than usual.

I made popping sounds with my cheeks, bored.

“So,” Kennedy said again, this time taking a huge gulp from the rum in front of him. “Wanna play Truth?”