Page 23 of Walk With Me
Pia and Todd are grinding together on the dance floor. Becca and Bella are nowhere to be seen, which makes me wonder if they’ve escaped for some alone time.
“Dance with me,” Sloane calls. She has to lean in pretty close so I can hear her. My coordination isn’t the best, and I’d say my dancing style is akin to an awkward wiggle, but if Sloane wants to dance, I’ll do it. Most of the people in thisroom won’t remember their own names in the morning, let alone any embarrassing moves I make on the dance floor.
Instead of staying on the periphery of the bobbing crowd, Sloane shoves me through the centre of it. I’m pretty sure I’ve just had several cups of beer spilt over me.
A body I pray is Sloane’s pushes into my back. I rotate 360° with my arms plastered to my sides until I’m facing Sloane. Thank God it is her pressing into me and not some drunk, horny dude.
She grabs my hips and urges them to move in time with her own. My focus is anywhere but on her face. Jesus, I must look ridiculous. The song isn’t one I know or would listen to, but it’s got a beat I can easily follow.
We’re a few minutes into the dance when I’m suddenly pulled backwards and out of Sloane’s grip. Stumbling, I hear Keira giggle. “Sorry, don’t know my own strength. Just wanted to steal Sloane for a dance or two. You don’t mind, right?”
Yes, I do, but I’m not gonna start any drama. Sloane can dance, or not dance, with whomever she likes.
Stepping in front of me, Kiera pulls Sloane in, who has a tight smile, but she hasn’t said no, so I presume she’s cool with it. Not wanting to stay in the mess of sweatingteenagers any longer, I force myself through the throng and back to the kitchen.
Spying the refrigerator, I open it and hope there is something non-alcoholic to drink. Bingo! Bottled water. That will do nicely. Now I just need to find somewhere less noisy and I might be able to relax for a few minutes.
Bryce and his friends are playing Beer Pong. Pia is dry-fucking Todd up against a wall, and Sloane is still dancing with Kiera. Her hands are now around the soccer captain’s neck. Huh.
Pushing down my very real jealousy and disappointment, I wander around until I find the exit to the garden. Calling Bryce’s backyard…a yard, doesn’t do it justice. There’s a huge pool filled with wet, pissed teenagers. A pool house that is the size of a regular house. I think I can spot tennis courts in the distance too. I’m sure there is plenty more to find in the daylight.
With very little desire to stick around any more people, I head further away from the main house. Finally the sound dulls and I can hear myself think again. A low hedge comes out of nowhere and stretches as far as I can see in the dark. There’s a sign that reads ‘Bryce’s Secret Garden’ which is cute.
Turns out the hedge is a little maze. The height doesn’t come past my waist, so there’s no chance I can get lost, but it would be great to just wander for a bit. Strategically placed lanterns light the different pathways. A bench beckons me, but after ten minutes of trying to find the right path, I give up and simply hop over the hedges.
Sitting down, I take a long, deep breath. It’s cleansing, and for the first time this evening I don’t feel panicked. As with anywhere I go my eyes scan the surroundings, looking for inspiration. I can find it anywhere, usually. My art is eclectic, and I don’t really have a preferred subject. You’d think, considering I want to live by the ocean, I’d favour seascapes, but I don’t. I love abstract, portraiture, nature. You name it, I’ve painted it. Another thing I have in common with my grandma.
I tried glassblowing once, but it was too hot. The thought of spending all day sweating never appealed. My sculpting isn’t too bad, but I don’t get the same pleasure out of it like I do painting.
This little maze is definitely sparking my creativity. I can see the painting in my mind’s eye. I think it would be a good winterscape. Fishing my phone out, I take a few photos for reference.
The stars are visible through the slight glare of the house lights. I scoot down until I’m resting my head on the back of the bench. I stretch my legs out, crossing them at the ankle, and simply take in the night.
It bugs me that I’m seen as boring. Why can’t I appreciate the stars instead of getting wasted? If you ask me, I’m not the one who has it wrong.
Righteous in my indignation, I miss Sloane’s arrival. She plonks down next to me, and of course I yelp in surprise.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
“Well, you found me.”
She looks a little sweaty, and her eyes are glazed. “I thought you’d run off.”
I chuckle. “Where would I run too? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
“You could’ve decided to hitchhike home. I don’t know.”
Rolling my eyes, I go back to staring at the sky. This is probably where Sloane realises how different we are. She’s happy to get buzzed at a rager, and I’m happy as far away from it as possible, sitting in silence.
“Keira asked me out,” she suddenly blurts.
For a moment, my heart sinks. Silly really. Sloane and I have a casual friendship at best.
“That can’t come as a surprise, she’s liked you for ages,” I reply.
“Do you think she’s good looking?”
I turn my face to the side and study Sloane. What could she possibly gain from knowing that? “I mean she’s objectively good looking, but not my type.”
