"… I think she woke up…"
Timber looked frantically for the source of the voice, though it seemed to resonate all around her. The swift movement of her neck caused her stomach to lurch and she leaned over the right arm of the couch, spewing vomit into the plant, almost missing, and vomiting the clearish liquid down the side of the black pot.
"Sick! She puked!"
Timber looked up again, slowly this time, only to see Clint sitting across the room by the door with his legs stretched out in front of him.
"Sick…" a relaxed, more sedated voice responded lazily.
Bob was the source of this second voice; he was seated at the other end of the couch with his head tipped back against the back of the sofa. He stared off at the lights, fascinated by them.
"Dude, have an Altoid." Clint directed her. "We'll be making out later." He added, crawling the few feet to the couch and holding his tin out for her.
Timber accepted two mints, only able to take mints in even numbers, and smiled. "Thanks man." She said slowly, her voice echoing oddly in her head. Her body was tingling in a radioactive manner.
"Man… these lights are sooooooo... whoa." Bob informed them slowly, blinking in slow motion.
"He's gone." Clint informed Timber, speaking rather quickly.
"Why are we in here?" Timber asked, untucking her legs from under her backside and attempting to stand. Her legs were asleep, her nerves prickling as she rose to her feet.
"We're locked in." Clint replied, deciding not to slide back to the door and merely leaning back against the couch, seated on the floor.
"Okay… whatthefuck?" Timber asked, shaking her head and watching the world bleed into itself, moving in a very lazy manner. "Whoa…"
"Yep. We're locked in. I think the door locks when you close it." Clint explained, tapping his feet rapidly on the Astroturf.
"That's…" Timber shook her head again; amused by the way her vision moved a step behind her motions.
"Ghetto?" Clint supplied. "Dude, I know."
Timber slowly lowered herself to a sitting position across from Clint on the floor once satisfied her double vision was gone. Now in the position to face the couch on which she had been seated, the young girl rubbed her eyes, pushing her disheveled hair from her face and looking around. The actual idea of their predicament never seemed to register.
"Holy shit!" she suddenly cried out, waking Bob from his trance. "Is that a cannabis plant?" she demanded, pointing to the pot she had previously thrown up at.
"Oh… yeah." Clint replied, reaching out and touching the spot on her leg just above her knee.
Timber yanked her extremity back from his reach, maneuvering onto her hands and knees to crawl towards the plant. "Let's smoke it!" she giggled devilishly.
"Smoke what?" Bob asked, suddenly interested. "Hey man… wha-why-what the fuck are y'aaaaal doing over there man? Why-wh- what are ya smoking on?" he asked, swinging his neck in an exaggerated motion to look in his brother's and best friend's direction.
"There's cannabis!" Timber giggled, falling back on her backside with a wave of laughter.
"Cannabis plant?!" Bob exclaimed, slowly staggering to his feet. He quickly fell back down to the couch. "Dude, my buzz is weeeeeearing offfffff. Bring that o'er here."
"Can we really smoke it like this?" Timber asked, having lost the most intense effects of her high as well.
"Man, we can smoke it any way!" Clint exclaimed, dragging the small pot forward on the floor. "Here, let's sit by Bob on the couch, then we can all get it. I saw this on that movie Saving Grace. She grew marijuana in this room and had to set the room on fire when the po-po came. Everyone got high from the fumes... it was great." He explained, snickering.
"Bob, you're still high." Timber informed her friend, slithering up onto the couch beside him and grinning as he stared back up at the Christmas lights.
"Naw man…" Bob mumbled, turning to look at her through bloodshot eyes. "I'm drunk as helllll." He smirked. "But my buzz? My buzz has officially left the building."
Timber giggled again, dropping her head back against the couch while Clint situated himself on her other side. He set the plant on her lap, fishing in his pocket for a lighter.
"Hey Bob man, you got a light?" Clint asked, leaning over Timber, but not hesitating to put his hand on her thigh again. She wriggled her leg out of his reach and he grinned deeply at her, his gaze dropping to her lap then just his eyes returning to smolder into hers.
Timber scooted closer to Bob who began to measuredly search in his pocket for a lighter.
"I bummed Ben's lighter earlier, but I can't seem to..." he trailed off, still digging into his front pockets.
Timber watched his hands move beneath the fabric, her eyes rising to light on his. He grinned at her, producing a white, plastic lighter smeared with blue ink, remnants of a pen explosion days earlier. He held it up in front of Timber's face and she chuckled, reaching for it. Bob moved it out of her reach and chuckled. Timber giggled, reaching up for it, her hand absently clutching his leg and rendering her speechless at the realization that she had touched him.
She had never touched him before without a specific purpose. It had always been a hug, her leaning against him, visa versa, a tickling match, wrestling, or something along such a wavelength. She had never blatantly touched him, merely for the pleasure of feeling his personal temperature or testing the texture of his skin. She chewed into the corner of her lip, sliding her hand the length of his thigh towards his apex through his worn jeans. Bob watched her in a laid back fashion, his eyes roaming the distance of her fingers as the tips found the yellow stitching of his inseam. Timber swallowed thickly, not wanting to stop, and suddenly not feeling as if she had to. She was going to keep touching him, despite the fact that Clint was on her other side, or even the fact that she had no clue whether permission was granted. She had intensions and she wasn't going to be halted in her exploration unless he had something to say about it.
The fingertips of her right hand began to memorize the length of Bob's thigh, feeling him slowly, trailing to the focal point between his legs. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to touch him there. Slowly, carefully, her touch trailed higher and Bob merely watched, leaning back and allowing her the freedom to touch his body, knowing full and well what she wanted to do. Her dark eyes seemed curious, almost careful, only once sweeping to meet his before threading slowly over his fitted, black, Club Monaco logo tee, to his Calvin Klein jeans, soft from many wears. Her hand mere inches away from its destination, she looked to him in alarm, not quite sure she knew what she was doing.
How was she to touch him? She had never touched someone in that location before. Was she supposed to just grab him? Gently caress the bulge she knew she would find there? She hadn't the slightest clue what she was going to do, but she knew exactly what she wanted to do.
Bob slid his fingers languidly to rest upon her hand, quite a contrast. His hand was large and masculine while her fingers were extremely long, but very slender with a fragile quality. His skin was light, though a deep, naturally olive tone, while her skin was a dark, rich shade. His nails were short and plain, neglected and bitten on occasion, where her fingernails were short, but coated with a layer of clear polish. Though fascinated by the contrast, she was equally as fascinated by how their hands seemed to fit so nicely, according in their differences and balancing. His touch caused her heart to race as she was hit by a wave of feelings. She still loved him, that love increasing every day.
Bob slowly, torturously so, guided her hand towards the height of his legs, where he knew she was headed; where he knew she wanted to go. Timber wet her lips in nervous apprehension, her eyes glancing to his before returning to where their hands were connected, not quite sure how she would react, but realizing she was nearing his crotch rather steadily.
"Fuck, it won't light." Clint snapped, having been focused on the plant during the entire exchange.
Timber jerked her hand from under Bob's, sitting rigidly between the brothers and not daring to look back at her best friend.
Bob cleared his throat. "Maybe we need paper." He suggested, easy going, as if nothing had happened.
"Here, Timber..." Clint began, moving the foot-tall plant onto his lap. "Take off your panties, those should be flammable."
Timber abhorred from him, looking at him as if he were crazy. "Hell no! You take off your panties!"
Clint paid no attention to her comment, flicking at the lighter in order to ignite it.
"Clint, it's not that hard." Bob informed him, reaching over Timber's lap to take the plant from his twin. Timber leaned back into the couch, nervously avoiding contact with him.
"Here." Bob announced, setting the pot on Timber's lap. He paused for a moment. "Hmmm..."
"Hmmm..." Clint mimicked, stroking his goatee pensively.
Both boys looked at one another at the same time. "Hey Tim..." Bob smirked. "Are you wearing a bra?" Clint finished, grinning just as wide.
* * *
Jeanine kicked at a crushed beer can in her path, taking a sip of tartini from her plastic cup. The backyard didn't seem as crowded as the house, so she and Angela had smartly stolen away to get some fresh air. Jen's hair tickled at her bare shoulders and she occasionally brushed it back, sighing at the triteness of the party, but otherwise having a good time with her dear friend. As the girls wandered farther from the party, further into the backyard that seemed to stretch for quite a distance, a sudden thought dawned on her.
"So Angie..." Jeanine smiled, turning sideways to take a look at her friend who was watching the dark ground as they walked with only the light from the porch to guide them. "I take it you and Scott had a good time this afternoon."
Angela looked up and smiled, shaking her head. "We weren't having sex." She informed Jeanine. "If that's what you were thinking." She added, sipping her own drink and bothering to inquire what it was.
"Tartini." Jeanine explained, grinning cutely. "We have somewhat of an unofficial bartender in there." She added with a smirk. "Very unofficial; he was supposed to make a sex on the beach, but his rendition contained beer, applesauce, rum, and a lemon wedge."
Angela giggled, tucking a curl back from her eyes. "Well... what can we expect?" she asked casually, turning her face up to the sky.
"Not so fast missy, you still didn't tell me what went on!" Jeanine informed her, jumping up and down emphatically. "I want gory details!!!" she added, energized by her full serving of alcohol.
Angela merely smiled. "Well..." she trailed off, blushing, though it was barely noticeable in the darkness. The girls stopped walking once met with a wire fence. They were a considerable two hundred yards from the backdoor. Angela wove her fingers into the links of the fence, tossing her head to keep her hair at bay. "We didn't have sex." She repeated esoterically, a telltale smile taking shape.
"So what did you do?!?!" Jeanine cried, not caring who heard her. She took a final swig of her vodka and cranberry juice before crushing the cup in her hand.
Angela giggled once more, leaning close to Jeanine to speak privately, despite the fact that no one else was around. "He went..." she pointed her finger towards the ground and smirked.
"He went down??" Jeanine asked with growing enthusiasm. "Down town???"
Angela nodded.
Jeanine took a step closer, tucking her long and wavy hair behind her ear. "How was it?" she asked in a hushed tone.
Angela smiled and nodded.
"Good?" Jeanine asked, sensing her friend's hesitation.
Angela dropped her voice another octave to a low whisper. "It was amazing!" she squealed. "I thought... I thought I saw God for a second there."
The other girl's eyes lit up. "So you came?"
Angela nodded matter-of-factly.
"Orgasmed?"
"Oh yeah."
Jeanine paused for a moment. "Can I borrow him?" she asked before shrieking with laughter. "Come on. Let's go see what Kelly's been up to." She suggested, linking her arm with her friend. "I need a man." She whimpered, laying her head on Angela's shoulder.
* * *
"Ahhhhhh." Clint sighed, inhaling the mild smoke that had been coming off the plant for quite some time. He poked at Timber's charred bra, moving it around at the base of the plant.
"Shit..." Timber moaned. "Shiiiiiiiit... who even knew... maaaaan...." she began to chuckle, lolling her head back so her gaze was fixed at the ceiling. "I think it worked." She finally said.
"Man... I..." Bob began, but felt no need to continue, his eyes roaming back to the Christmas lights.
Timber gradually passed out and the next thing she heard was Dave's voice as he shook her awake. She was lying on the couch by then, the charred plant on the floor beside Clint who was peacefully asleep on his back. Bob was still seated where he had been, staring intently at the glowing lights, hypnotized by their effect on his buzz.
"Hey! Timber!" Dave whispered, awakening his eldest triplet by accidentally kicking him on his way to the couch. Clint cursed briefly, rolling over.
Timber's dark eyes creaked open.
"Yo Timber!" Dave called directly into her face.
Timber stared at him for a moment before shoving him away from her belligerently and sitting up. "Damnit Dave!" she exclaimed, rubbing her eyes. "Don't you ever come up in my face when I'm sleeping with your 'Yo Timber!' bullshit man! I thought I was seeing Jesus and my days were through..." she muttered, somewhat kneeling on the grey cushions.
Dave grinned sheepishly. "Sorry man." He smirked.
"How the fuck did you get in here?" she asked, finally taking a moment to look at the room around her. "The doors were locked..." she mumbled then yawned, experiencing a pretty nice after-buzz. "Fuck. I slept through my high." She muttered, pushing back her hair. "FUCK!" she suddenly screamed then began to laugh.
"The door wasn't locked." Dave informed her coolly, inspecting the burnt bra in a heap on the carpet. He held it up and gave Timber a skeptical look. "Do I wanna know?" he asked.
Timber began to chuckle good-naturedly. "Pro'ly not." She replied. "The door was too locked!" she laughed, trying to get off the couch but falling forward off of it instead.
"No it wasn't." Dave replied. "What the hell?" he asked, picking up the mangled cannabis plant that was half charred by the bra. "I thought this was just a rumor!" he began to laugh, holding his stomach. "Sorry, I've had like three beers." He excused himself.
Timber smirked. "What was a rumor?" she asked, stumbling to her feet and standing right beside him. He was a few inches taller, but her chin was high enough to lean on his shoulder. She could smell the beer on his breath as he spoke.
"Everyone was talking about Alan having a weed tree, but I thought it was bullshit." Dave smirked.
"Dude!" Clint suddenly cried out, rapidly rolling onto his stomach with a burst of blurry alertness. "How'd you get in here?" he demanded, his eyes rolled all the way up in their sockets in order to see his brother standing so high above him. The dark brown orbs floated in glassy, bloodshot waters.
"The door wasn't locked!" Dave exclaimed. "I just turned the knob and came in!"
Clint gazed at his brother, blinking a few times while he processed this information. He suddenly sputtered a guffaw. "Turned the knob! That's what I forgot!" he exclaimed, starting to get into a crawling stance before standing on sea legs. "Man. That's your brain on drugs kids."
Timber chuckled, softly at first before she was nearly rolling with laughter. "You dumb ass!" she hollered.
"Yeah man, that is pretty dumb." Dave agreed snickering to himself as he set the plant back down on the floor. "Alan's gonna have a conniption when he sees that you smoked half his plant." He added, heading for the door where the party began. Timber started to follow him, but Clint grabbed her elbow, tugging her back.
"Hey girl, I think it's time you and me became us." He wiggled his eyebrows and purred obnoxiously.
Timber furrowed her brow at him in disbelief, dramatically snatching her arm back and putting a bit of distance between her and her friend.
"I see me and I see you in a private room right now; I'm talking fluid exchange here." He continued, stepping closer.
Timber steeped back once more and continued to do so blindly until she had backed into the wall just to the right of the door. "Get away from me man." She warned.
"I mean, you're so fine Timber... How about we play elevator; it goes up, and you go down on it." He persisted smirking salaciously. "What do ya say we play house. You be the backdoor and I bang you all summer long. Just give me five minutes Timber and I'll make you never wanna stop. I'd wrap your legs around my neck and wear you like a feed bag..." he ran his tongue over his lips. "And that's a promise."
Timber's eyes were wide with disgust.
"Ever heard that song 'I wanna sex you up?' Well baby, that's my theme for you. So how about I give you some 'Sexual Healing' and make you 'Every Woman?'" He leaned in close, biting on his lower lip and gazing alluringly at her.
"Clint," Timber began lowly. "Have you ever heard that song 'Nasty Boys'? By Janet Jackson? That's my theme for you." She said, pushing him away and slipping out of the room through the only exit.
"Hey!" Clint shouted, leaving Bob alone as he dashed after Timber in hot pursuit.
* * *
The dining room was the least populated area in the entire house. Aside from the person passed out on the dinner table, a familiar face was behind the wet bar, two young girls were standing in the far corner with drinks, and Scott was drifting between a passed out state and consciousness every few seconds. He had smoked out before drinking, a lethal potion for his system, though the thought hadn't occurred to him at that moment. After he had finished the remains of vodka, the glass bottle lying beside his heap of a form, he was too drunk to notice anything taking place around him.
"Scott... Scott... Scott... Scott!!!"
He tightened his grip on reality and forced himself to open his eyes to the spinning world.
"Scott, look at me..."
His pale blue eyes focused somewhat on a face he couldn't place right away, but eventually came to recognize as his girlfriend's. "Heeeeeeeeey babyyyyy!" he slurred, his eyelids drooping.
He came to in the next minute when the undersides of her fingers tapped at his cheek, a vain attempt to get through to him. "Scott... how much did you drink?" Angela asked in disgust.
Scott tried desperately to pay attention to her, almost in tears that he could not. He soon realized he plum didn't care, allowing her to drag him up into a sitting position with some difficulty.
"Scott! Listen to me." Angela said firmly, gripping his chin. "Jeanine and I are gonna take Kelly home. She's vomiting everywhere. We'll come back though. Okay?!" she asked desperately, shaking his face for a moment. "Scott? Scott, can I have your keys?"
"Whaaa..." he muttered, finding it was increasingly easier to stay awake.
"Keys." Angela said, her patience beginning to wear thin. She dug her hands in his front pockets, finding the ring of keys in the left one. "Don't drink anymore Scott. You just sit here... okay? I'll be back in a few minutes." She said slowly and clearly.
Scott managed a nod, though he really wasn't paying her much attention.
Angela sighed, seeing this, and going about caring for her other friend who was currently half-leaning on Jeanine while getting sick in the corner against the wall.
As Angela stood and walked away, Scott listlessly fluttered his eyelashes, smiling at how everything seemed so loose in his world. He felt very light and airy, lifting his arm and dropping it just for effect. He sputtered a chuckle, watching it drop easily to it's previous location.
On the other side of the room, the two girls sipping drinks watched him.
"Scott Moffatt." The first girl, otherwise known as Delta Reeves, smirked, twisting at one of her thick, dark brown waves of hair around her finger. It was rather hot in the house so she found her mass of long hair to be sticky on her bare back. She donned a handkerchief tank top in white with a dipping neckline and a feminie trim of blue ribbon. The fabric cups for her breasts were embroidered with pink and pale green flowers, bringing out the pale green of her eyes. Her skin was glossy from the humidity of the house, and deeply tanned from hours in the sun, having already taken an orangey-bronze shade others spent half the summer acquiring. Delta was tall and lanky, her long legs displayed by a pair of denim shorts far too short to be appropriate. Her hair seemed to clothe her more than her actual, skimpy outfit, leading her to believe that she possessed what was necessary to win time with any guy of her desire that evening... even if that guy of her desire had had a girlfriend for over a year.
On the contrary, Delta's sidekick Marcinne Kaplan was short and stout, very round, with a chin length light brown bob. She was the polar opposite of her friend, donning a sleeveless turtleneck in pink and a pair of tapered jeans. She stood anxiously beside her friend, sipping nervously at her soda and watching Scott's every move with her intense blue eyes.
"I wonder if he's too drunk to play a round of pool." Delta continued, chewing the corner of her peach-shimmer tinted lips.
Marcinne chuckled at the ludicrousness of her friend's query. Her cheeks were very rosy and round, as was her chin, only becoming rosier as she giggled. The pink splashes of color stood out on her otherwise pasty complexion. "Delta, I think he's way beyond too drunk for pool. I doubt he could even tell the solids from the stripes."
Delta's smirk only grew as she took a sip out of her plastic cup. "I don't care about the solids and stripes Marcinne, I'm more interested on him just sinking his ball in my hole." She smirked. "And maybe about his operation of his stick... that's always good." She put her finger to her chin, squinting at him as she sized him up.
"Delta don't." Marcinne warned, looking up at her friend who was at least a head taller than she. "He's got a girlfriend." She began frantically. "That girl that was just talking to him? That was his girlfriend. They've been dating since like, last summer."
Delta removed her eyes from Scott's smoldering beauty only to look at her best friend. "It's not like they have kids! I mean, you can't break that up. They're just dating. She won't mind if I borrow him. She's pro'ly a bitch too. Did you see how she was handling him?" she continued, returning her gaze to Scott. "I mean, she treated him like some baby! Scott's a rock star. Scott's a major hottie. Scott's a celebrity. He's far too important in the female community to be tied down to one woman."
"He's going out with Angela Tendero Delta! I know Angela! She was in my chemistry class! She helped me get stoicheometric equations! She's so sweet... you can't do that to her!" Marcinne nearly pleaded.
"Oh please Marcinne." Delta said darkly, glaring at the other girl. "I can and I will. Besides, if he lets me, that's his beef." She shrugged, thrusting her plastic cup at her friend and stalking in Scott's direction.
Scott didn't notice her standing before him for a few moments, but finally acknowledged the fact that she was blocking his light. He looked up with effort, staring blankly at her. Delta crouched down, grinning devilishly. She ran her hands back into his sticky hair.
"Hey champ... wanna play?"
* * *
"Get away!!!" Timber shouted, breaking down into giggles and falling to her backside on the stairs. She held her stomach, rolling with laughter as Clint threw himself on top of her.
"Conjugal visit time bay-bay, let's shag." He grinned, trying to parallel his face with hers but she turned her head in all directions to keep him away. "Come on, you know you want it. Don't play hard to get."
Timber paused, looking up at him from where she was laying on the steps, mashed under his weight. In a moment of seriousness, she grinned. "You apparently seem to be." She commented, glancing downwards.
Clint paused for a moment. "That's the lighter!" he exclaimed, chuckling at what she meant. "It's in my front pocket!"
Timber laughed in relief. "Good thing for you!" she commented. "I was wondering why it was so... umm... compact. Get off me." She added.
"No, not until you give me a kiss." He smirked smugly.
Timber mischievously licked the length of his cheek, smiling back at him. "Get off, you're crushing my arms."
Her arms were folded at the elbow on her chest, smashing into her ribs with his weight.
"Hey! Gimme a real kiss." Clint demanded.
"Why do you want to kiss me anyways?" she demanded. "I'm not some hoe you know. I'm not your beck-and-call girl."
"I didn't say you were." Clint informed her, forgetting the fact that he was so close to her, balancing himself from sliding down the steps with his hand on one of the rungs under the banister. "I want to kiss you because I want to kiss you. Actually, I want you to kiss me." He grinned cheekily. "Why?" he asked, pouting. "Do you not want to kiss me?"
"It's not that..." she started, feeling uncomfortable with such a question. She diverted her eyes to through the rungs where the party was still going on all around them on the first level. "If you get off me, I will totally kiss you." She promised.
"Will you also kiss my friend?" he asked, an even broader grin taking shape.
"Yes--- well, who's the friend?" she asked.
Clint dropped his eyes down, and then returned them to hers, an indirect gesture. "I mean, he hasn't been kissed for a while, and he would really like a nice, loooooong kiss right on the head."
"Okay." Timber nodded. "I'll kiss you and your friend."
"Really?!" Clint asked, thinking it had to be his lucky day.
"If you get off me." She stipulated.
"You swear?"
"Cross my heart and hope to die."
"Stick a needle in your eye?"
"Right through the cornea."
"Okay!" Clint giggled, tugging himself up with aid of the banister and allowing her escape.
"Suck-ker!" Timber cried, almost leaping to her feet and taking off up the steps, her cowboy boots thudding noisily and drifting on her tiny calves.
"Hey!" Clint cried, gaining his bearings and taking off after her. "You promised!!!"
* * *
"Angela?" Scott muttered, coming to consciousness sometime later. He couldn't detect much, but he knew right away that he was no longer in the dinning room. One giveaway of that palpable fact was the music factor. It was much lower than it had been before. He was also lying on his back on something that was not the floor. He was laying on something cushioned, soft. The smell of flowers also seemed to attack his olfactory.
His eyes opened in small flashes, taking in pink and white, everywhere. It looked as if strawberry shortcake had exploded on the walls. His head was swimming so he closed his eyes again, hoping to perhaps pass out and wake up sober.
"I'm not Angela..." someone whispered gently to him as he was just about to fall over the edge of sleep.
The voice was so close to his ear, he could feel the lips on his lobe, tickling, teasing the flesh. His skin quivered and the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood up. The voice was unequivocally female.
* * *
"Peter needs a kiss Timber! This isn't funny!" Clint continued to scream after her as she dashed down the hallway of the upstairs.
"You kiss Peter then!" she giggled, finding the whole situation to be one big joke.
"Come onnnnnn!!!!" Clint whined. "You said you would! You even crossed your heart and hoped to die. Then you said you'd stick a needle in your eye Timber! That's deep! You can't just break that!" he exclaimed frustrated as she tested the handles of each door frantically.
He walked towards her at an easy pace, knowing she couldn't possibly escape anyhow. All the doors seemed to be locked, or the room it led to was carelessly occupied and Timber apologized excessively to the people inside. The hall carpet was beige in the pale yellow lights from overhead. It stretched down to the back wall, four rooms evenly dispersed on each side. All eight doors were closed, the gold handles gleaming. Clint smirked, approaching her at the end and grinned.
"How about you stick that needle in your ass!" Timber crudely suggested.
Clint's eyes lit up. "Now Timber, that isn't very nice!"
"Fuck!" Timber cursed. "None of these doors are fucking open!" she shouted, trying the handle of the last door on the right side of the hallway and falling into the room.
She wished she hadn't.
"Sorry!" she quickly exclaimed, ducking out and shutting the door. She had just walked in on a couple doing a bit more than making out on Alan's little sister's bed. The female of the counterpart, whom she vaguely recognized, immediately jumped off the bed as if it were on fire. Timber knew she recognized the girl, the guy as well, but wasn't quite sure. The thought occupied her for the moment, finally quelled when the girl stormed out of the bedroom in a torrent of curls, hurriedly situating her top. She smiled shortly before trotting down the hallway towards the downstairs. Timber watched her, instantly recognizing her as Delta Reeves. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach.
As her thoughts roamed, Clint lunged, grasping her around the waist. "I've got you now!" he threatened. "Now kiss him! Peter wants you to kiss him so kiss him!"
Timber, suddenly sick of the game they were playing, shoved Clint away. "Peter can go screw himself." She muttered dryly, walking off down the hall for the steps.
It was now clear to her. The guy she had seen on the bed was Scott.
* * *
Angela slowly cruised Frank's Ford Expedition down the street that had been jam-packed with cars and teenagers less than an hour before. It was completely empty.
"What do you think happened?" she asked, putting her foot harder on the gas and pulling up to the next block where she intended to turn back.
"Cops pro'ly broke it up." Jeanine replied.
"It's only eleven." Angela commented, looking at the clock on the dashboard.
Jeanine nodded with only mild regret. "But the party was kinda boring anyway, so it's not like the cops didn't do Alan a favor." She snickered. "The others pro'ly crashed at Ben's or something." She added, noting her friend only lived a street over.
"You want to stop by and check?" Angela asked.
Jeanine was tempted but declined. "I promised Timber I'd help her with dance tomorrow. Plus, we're all going shopping so that means I have to get up early and get to her Tim's so we can work for a good few hours before." She explained, watching the darkened houses pass by her window.
"What time are we going shopping?" Angela asked. "Who is coming?" she added, heading down Jeanine's street, which wasn't far from Ben's house.
"Well, I thought it would be just us girls and Clint; but he counts as one of the girls too so..." she trailed off with a light snicker.
Angela grinned as well.
"We should go at like, one-ish." Jeanine continued, collecting her purse from the floor by her feet. "Are you going to be driving?" she asked.
"Sure." Angela said passively, pulling into her friend's driveway.
"Thanks." Jeanine said, starting to climb out. "Hey," she remembered, leaning back into the car through the open window. "Do you want me to get my mom's car so we can drop this off at the Moffatt's?" she asked.
"No, you get some sleep Jeanine, I'll take the car in the morning." She smiled.
Jeanine smiled back, reaching into the car and touching her best friend's arm. "Bye sweetie, I love you." She said, shouldering her denim bagette and waving.
"You too." Angela smiled back, waiting patiently until Jeanine flipped on the light in the front room of her house to show that she was safely inside.
Pulling backwards into the street, Angela felt a strong desire to see her boyfriend. She quickly decided against it, figuring she'd see him the next day and he'd be sober by then. However, she had a sinking feeling in her stomach, a gut notion that she shouldn't have left him alone at the party...
* * *