Out of Breath (Breathing, #3)(10)

Serena laughed. ‘I’ll make you a drink,’ she said before disappearing into the kitchen.

‘I’ll drink your beer,’ Peyton declared, appearing at the bottom of the stairs. Her shiny golden hair hung down her back, not a single strand out of place. She was very mindful of her appearance, intently assembling herself from her shiny pink lips to her polished toes. She’d never let anyone other than us see her less than picture-perfect. Just thinking about what she had to go through to keep this up exhausted me.

‘You’ll drink anything,’ Meg teased, twisting the top on the polish. ‘I think you’ve probably tried just about everything there is.’

‘Funny,’ Peyton sneered, tipping the bottle back into her mouth.

‘Here, try this.’ Serena handed me a glass with red liquid in it. My stomach instinctively clenched. Noticing my cringe, she assured me, ‘It’s cranberry and vodka. I made it pretty weak too.’

I accepted the drink and took a sip. It tasted mostly of cranberry with a hint of something else. ‘Thanks.’

While Meg finished getting ready in the upstairs bathroom, we sat in the living room – drinking. Something I quite honestly never thought I’d ever do.

Was I supposed to keep holding the glass, or set it on the coffee table? I watched Serena and opted to hold it. I took a sip, not wanting to drink too fast. I knew I was being paranoid; I just needed to relax already.

‘So, where’s James tonight?’ I asked Serena, needing to distract myself from internally freaking out.

‘He’s working,’ Serena replied, finishing her beer and getting up. ‘Peyton, you ready for another?’

James was a bouncer at one of the clubs that showcased local rock talent. With his shaved head, his broad frame and the tattoo on the back of his skull, he fit the persona. On the other hand, he was a dedicated student at Stanford, pursuing an education degree. The thought of James reshaping the minds of adolescents always made me smile.

‘Sure,’ Peyton called.

I’d barely finished half the glass, and they were already on their second. Maybe I was drinking too slow. Or maybe I just needed to get a grip and stop obsessing.

‘There’s a great show coming up in a few weeks,’ Serena informed me. She handed Peyton another beer.

Serena was my direct line to the best shows in the area. I was thankful to have a room-mate who understood my need for fast beats and heavy guitar. Meg and Peyton didn’t appreciate the genre, preferring head-bopping or hip-swaying music, although I’d recently taken Meg to a few shows, with encouraging results.

‘Let me know when, and I’ll check if I have tests or anything due.’ I took another sip.

‘Em, you spent all break reading the upcoming assignments for the next month,’ she accused. ‘You’ll be fine regardless. It won’t be a late night.’

‘Ready to go?’ Meg announced, bounding down the stairs with her spiralling auburn curls bouncing around her. We finished off our drinks and followed her out the door.

It was obvious when we’d arrived at the party, because there was nowhere to park. After circling the block a few times, we were finally able to creep into a spot as another car pulled away. We followed a small group of people through a gated archway into a courtyard.

Meg nudged me playfully. ‘There’s a pool.’

‘You wouldn’t,’ Peyton threatened.

‘Relax, Peyton,’ Meg snapped. ‘We wouldn’t do that here.’

I smirked.

Two floors of apartments wrapped around an inner courtyard. People were mingling on the balconies and throughout the central area. A half dozen apartment doors were open to grant access and a sound system was set up in the open space, blaring the most recent hip hop music.

‘We need drinks!’ Peyton announced, raising her hands in the air and moving her hips to the beat.

We followed her form-fitting green sweater through the crowd. She turned heads as she wiggled by, but she was too focused on her mission to take notice.

We continued up the stairs and into the closest open door.

‘Wait here,’ she instructed. ‘I’ll get us something.’

I didn’t think we could squeeze in any further if we tried; the room was packed. Peyton reappeared, her fingers dipped into small plastic cups of Jell-O. She handed one to each of us. I looked down at the cup, trying to figure out how to eat it without a spoon. Squeezing the edges, I tried to slurp it.

‘Don’t chew. Just swallow.’ Meg laughed as I licked at pieces of Jell-O still clinging to my lips.

‘Always excellent advice,’ Peyton giggled.

Meg grimaced. ‘Eew. We’re only talking about Jell-O, Peyton!’

It took me a moment to figure out what the hell they were talking about, and I scowled in revulsion when I figured it out. Peyton took note of my delayed reaction. ‘Oh, Emma. Are you sure you had sex with that guy from the band? ’Cause I swear you’re a virgin.’

‘Let me get another round so you can try again,’ Meg offered, dragging Peyton with her.

When they returned, I took two little cups and awaited instructions.

‘Swipe your finger around the edge to loosen it and then pop it in your mouth.’ Peyton demonstrated with ease. I made another attempt and got most of it in my mouth. My Jell-O shot ineptitude made Meg laugh. But I did better with the next one.