35

                                    

                                          
When I arrived at Jake's party, the place was already a chaotic mess. Music blared from the speakers so loudly that the bass vibrated through the floor. Laughter and shouting echoed from every corner, and the distinct smell of alcohol and sweat hung heavy in the air. I hesitated at the front door, already questioning why I'd even come.  
Stepping inside, it didn't take long to notice that most of the partygoers were drunk—or at least well on their way there. I weaved through the crowd, searching for Ashley, but it was hard to tell one swaying figure from another. Every time I thought I'd spotted her, it turned out to be someone else.  
Sighing, I decided to head to the kitchen in hopes of finding something to drink that wasn't spiked. As I entered, the scene wasn't much better—several half-empty bottles were scattered across the counters, and a group of guys were loudly arguing over which beer brand was the best. I ignored them, scanning the room for a soda or water bottle.  
Just as I reached for a can of soda on the counter, a familiar voice made my stomach twist.  
"Well, well, if it isn't Nala," Heather sneered, her tone dripping with disdain.  
I turned around to find her standing there, arms crossed, her perfectly styled hair looking just as flawless as always despite the chaos around us. Her expression was less than welcoming.  
"Didn't think this was your kind of scene," she added, her lips curling into a mocking smile. "Shouldn't you be home... doing whatever it is you do?"  
I rolled my eyes, refusing to let her get under my skin. "Nice to see you too, Heather," I said dryly, popping open the soda can. "But don't worry—I'm not here to ruin your night. You can keep pretending you're the queen of the party."  
Heather's smirk faltered for a split second, her annoyance flashing across her face. But before she could say anything else, I brushed past her, not interested in wasting any more time on her antics.  
---
After wandering around for a bit, I finally spotted Ashley near the living room, laughing with a group of people I vaguely recognized from school. She looked like she was having the time of her life, her cheeks flushed and her drink in hand. For a moment, I thought about going over to her, but I stopped myself.  
She was having fun, and I didn't want to be the downer who dragged her into my problems. I decided to leave her alone and find somewhere quiet to clear my head.  
Feeling a little out of place, I searched for the bathroom. The downstairs one had a line of people waiting outside, so I figured I'd try my luck upstairs. The house was huge, with winding hallways and rooms that looked like they belonged in a catalog.  
As I wandered, I passed a balcony with the door slightly ajar. A figure stood there, silhouetted against the glow of the streetlights outside. It didn't take long to recognize him—Steve.  
I hesitated, unsure whether to approach him. Normally, I wouldn't have cared about whatever was going on with him. But something about the way he stood there, slouched and unmoving, gave me pause. Against my better judgment, I stepped out onto the balcony.  
"Steve?" I said softly.  
He turned, startled, and blinked at me like he hadn't expected anyone to find him. His face was flushed, and his eyes were glassy. It didn't take long to realize he was drunk. The empty beer bottles on the ground around him confirmed it.  
"What do you want, Nala?" he muttered, slurring slightly.  
I crossed my arms, leaning against the railing. "I was about to ask you the same thing. You don't look like you're having a great time."  
Steve let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, well... it's not really a night for celebrations."  
I frowned, noticing the way his shoulders sagged. "What's wrong?"  
He hesitated for a moment, then sighed heavily, running a hand through his messy hair. "It's my dad," he said finally, his voice thick with frustration.  
I stayed quiet, letting him talk.  
"He left us," Steve continued, his words coming out in a rush. "Me, my mom, Abby... all of us. Just packed up and moved in with some woman half his age. And you know what the worst part is? He doesn't even care. He acts like we're the ones who screwed him over."  
I didn't know what to say, but I could see the pain in his expression, raw and unguarded in a way I'd never seen before.  
"My mom doesn't want anything to do with him—or his money," Steve went on, his voice cracking slightly. "She's too proud for that. But it's not fair. She's struggling, Abby doesn't get it, and I'm just... stuck trying to keep everything together."  
"Steve..." I started, but he cut me off with a bitter laugh.  
"And when I told him what I thought about it? About how he abandoned us? He had the nerve to call me ungrateful."  
He shook his head, staring down at the bottles at his feet. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this," he muttered.  
Before I could respond, he looked up at me, his eyes meeting mine. There was something desperate in his gaze, and before I could process what was happening, he leaned in.  
"Steve, what are you—" I started, but he pressed forward, his lips aiming for mine.  
I turned my head at the last second, his kiss landing awkwardly near my cheek. "Steve, stop," I said firmly, pushing at his chest, but he didn't back away.  
He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer, his breath hot against my neck. "Come on, Nala," he murmured, his words slurred. "You're always so... feisty. Just let me..."  
"Steve, no!" I said, my voice rising as I tried to wriggle out of his grasp.  
He ignored me, his lips brushing against my neck and shoulder, and panic surged through me. I pushed harder, using all the strength I had, and finally managed to shove him away.  
Steve stumbled back, his head hitting the railing with a dull thud. He blinked, his expression shifting from confusion to horror as he realized what had just happened.  
"Nala... I'm so sorry," he stammered, his voice shaking. "I didn't mean—"  
But I didn't stay to hear the rest. My heart was pounding, and I couldn't breathe. I turned and ran, tears stinging my eyes as I bolted out of the house, away from the party, away from Steve, away from everything.  
I didn't stop until I was far from the noise and chaos, the cool night air chilling my skin. My mind was racing, replaying everything that had just happened.  
I thought I could forget about Steve. I thought I could brush him off like he was just another annoyance in my life.  
But this... this was something I couldn't ignore.