Page 22 of On His Mind

“If you break anything, Stanley,” Benson calls over the music, “including someone’s sanity, you’re going to pay for it.”

The room dissolves into laughter.

I smile into my cup.

Hawthorne House feels like someone bottled chaos and let it explode. These parties are known for getting wild. Every roomhas something happening. Somebody’s playing cards on the dining room table. Music is so loud that I can’t hear Ivory over it. The kitchen is so full that people are crowding outside the door, trying to look in. Every few minutes, someone new walks through the front door. And I’m standing here, soaked in the beer I wasn’t even drinking, because a freshman the size of a wall wasn’t looking where he was going. I thought athletes weren’t supposed to be clumsy, like that’s a rule, isn’t it?

Ivory appears beside me with Drew Faulkner resting his arm around her neck.

“I leave you alone for two minutes,” she says, “and you’ve already lost Theo. Where did he go?”

“With the crowd,” I say, gesturing towards the kitchen.

She looks me up and down. “You’re judging.”

“I’m absolutely judging.”

She laughs.

I take another sip of my drink, though I don’t really want it. I prefer wine to whatever vodka cranberry juice someone made. I’ve been sipping the same cup since the beer spilled.

Drew disappears when somebody yells his name from the kitchen.

Ivory follows after him with an exaggerated sigh. “Do you want to come?”

I shake my head right as Theo walks around her. “I’ve been looking for you,” he says to me. “Where did you disappear to?”

I blush, looking at Ivory, who makes eyes at me and quietly slips away.

Theo Marsh. His smile gets me every time.

“You disappeared,” I tease.

“I went to Italy,” he says as he lifts the cup in his right hand.

“You did?”

He passes the cup to my open hand and takes the vodka cranberry that I’ve been nursing. “I brought you a postcard.”

I glance at my new cup.

He smirks. “It’s wine.”

I look at his face, flattered. “A postcard?”

He nods, drinking off the rest of my vodka cranberry. Then he stacks the cups together. His shoulder brushes mine as he leans beside me, completely comfortable invading my personal space, but I notice that he’s doing it on purpose. He sips his drink and watches me over the top of it.

I drink the wine he brought me and nearly hesitate, because beer, vodka, and wine are probably the worst combination. I take a small sip anyway.Cheap wine.

“Still drawing?” he asks me, leaning in so that I hear him over the music.

I nod.

“What’re you drawing these days?” he asks.

“Houses.”

He makes a face.