Just You Read Online Free PDF Page B

ever again .
    Robin pulled two vodka coolers out of the
bar fridge before we ambled off to mingle some more. She popped the
tops off both bottles and handed one to me. “You’ll like this
better.”
    I gingerly took a sip of the cooler. It
tasted sweet, nothing like the vodka we’d downed straight. I kept
sipping at it as Robin led me from one group to the other,
introducing me to dozens of kids who all had a word for her but
didn’t bother with me. She was Miss Socialite, obviously a fixture
at many of their past parties, and I was the tagalong.
    At ten-thirty she left me for a few minutes
to go outside on the enormous two-tiered back deck for a smoke. I
stationed myself next to a leafy potted plant, not wanting to go
outside with her and her friends but not feeling comfortable inside
alone either. My cooler was almost gone, and I felt kind of buzzed
already. I downed the last inch of liquid in the bottle, placed it
on a nearby table, and glanced at my watch. Where in the hell was
Robin?
    “Hey, you want me to bring you another one
of those?”
    I looked up to see a smiling boy in a white
Polo shirt who was only slightly taller than my five foot four
inches. He had a buzz cut and squinty eyes that were peering at me
with great interest.
    “Um, no thanks,” I said, flustered.
    “You sure?”
    “I’m sure.”
    “You want to go sit down or something?” He
kept flicking glances at my boobs, as if he were waiting for an
answer from them instead of my mouth. Creepy.
    “No, thanks.” I craned my neck toward the
basement door, hoping for any sign of Robin.
    “Sure you don’t want another drink?” the guy
asked again. Obviously he couldn’t take a hint.
    “I’m not thirsty,” I said, edging away.
“Well, I have to, um, use the washroom now.”
    He gestured toward the six or so people
lining the wall near the bathroom. “Big line up. I could show you
where the other bathrooms are.”
    “That’s okay, I don’t mind waiting.”
    He ogled me one last time before moving off.
“Suit yourself.”
    I really did need to go, so I darted over to
the bathroom queue with my head down and my arms folded over my
chest, feeling pissed at Robin for leaving me alone for so long. I
vowed, right then and there, to never let her talk me into anything
ever again. I was totally out of my element here. How could she
think this was fun? I felt like a child who’d crashed an older
sibling’s house party.
    I was standing there in the unmoving line,
shifting my weight from one foot to the other to distract myself
from wetting my pants (I had what my doctor called an “overactive
bladder”), when the guy standing to my left suddenly started
speaking.
    “He’s an asshole.”
    It took a few moments to register that these
words were meant for me. Feeling even stupider than I already did,
I looked over at the owner of the voice and felt my stomach drop to
somewhere around my knees. Damn. This guy was hot.
    “What?” I said, trying not to stare.
    He nodded in the direction of creepy Buzz
Cut Boy, who was now talking to some other girl’s breasts. “Kurt
Doyle. He’s like that with all the girls.”
    I scanned him quickly as he spoke—short dark
hair, blue eyes, tall, completely out of my league. “Oh,” I said,
dropping my gaze to the floor.
    We shifted a few inches as another person
exited the washroom. My face felt like it was on fire, either from
the alcohol or from being in such close proximity to this guy. I
could feel the heat of his arm right next to mine, and he smelled
amazing. When he didn’t say anything in response to my last
comment, I began to wonder if I’d imagined him speaking to me at
all. But when we reached the front of the line, he spoke to me
again.
    “You go ahead,” he said when his turn came
up. “I can wait.”
    By then I was busting. “Are you sure?”
    He nodded and I rushed into the bathroom
without any further conversation. It wasn’t until I was washing my
hands at the sink that I realized