What if she got drunk and left her post? What if someone accidentally took my keys? I suddenly remembered my mom, who used to tell me to stop asking “what if” questions. Not having my keys meant I wouldn’t be able to leave quickly if I wanted to. The thought of giving up one of my lifelines irritated the hell out of me. “If you want in, I need your keys.”Īnnoyed, I dug into my bag and dropped my set into the bowl. “And you might change your mind,” she challenged. “Well, I won’t be drinking,” I shouted over the music. I guess she wasn’t letting anyone drive drunk tonight. Taking a moment to process her request, I realized she was making me surrender my keys. “Drop your keys in the bowl,” she instructed, returning her attention to her company. How’s it going, Tate?” Tori Beckman sat inside the front door with a drink in hand, chatting with a boy I didn’t know. Several guys I recognized from school lunged out of the front door, chasing each other and sloshing drinks in the process. Red Solo cups littered the lawn, and people filtered in and out of the house, enjoying the balmy summer night. Her boyfriend had arrived earlier, having spent most of the day with his friends at the lake while K.C. No matter what.” Her threatening voice shook my already unsteady nerves.Īs we walked up the driveway, she trailed behind me. You leave in two days, and we’re having fun. The party ruckus amplified the closer we got to the house. We climbed out and jogged across the street. “Well, just remember…if I get uncomfortable, I’m gone. Unfastening my seatbelt, I looked over to her. Liam invited me, and I’m inviting you.” Her calm, flat tone did nothing to ease the tightness in my chest. “It’ll be fine, you’ll see.” She patted my leg. 'K.C.? I don’t think this is a good idea,” I declared…again. My hands clenched the steering wheel as I squeezed into a spot a block away from the party.

The lane was lined with car after car, displaying the magnitude of the party we were crashing.

Hurry up and wait, that was me.īut hearing the pounding rhythm of the music in the distance, I had no desire to rush any further. I rushed to every stop sign and red light. I walked as quickly as my legs could take me, and I drove as speedily as was reasonable. responded, 'And have you bury your face in your hands every time I don't launch myself through every yellow light? Not.' “You know, maybe you should’ve just driven like I suggested,” I blurted out, even though I never liked anyone else to drive when I was in the car.Īs if reading my mind, K.C. The tires of my dad’s Bronco screeched with the sudden, short turn onto a car-packed street.

Bully by penelope douglas read online