The Reckless Collision

Sam.

~~~

I sprawled on the couch as "I Am an Outsider" by Three Days Grace blasted from my stereo, half-cold coffee in my hand as I lazily scrolled through my phone, a habit I'd picked up since moving to Los Angeles four years ago. My thumb paused mid-swipe when Scott's photo popped up on the screen. I muted the music, feeling a small flicker of curiosity, and swiped to answer.

"Hey," I said, pressing the phone to my ear, my voice casual.

"Hey, what are you doing tonight?" Scott's voice was unusually upbeat like he was on the verge of something big.

"Nothing, why?" I asked with a half-hearted shrug.

"There's a party at Rory's house tonight. Want to come with me?" He sounded hopeful, almost like he expected me to decline.

I sighed, picking absentmindedly at the hem of my shirt. "I don't know, Scott. It's Rory's party, so I'm not exactly thrilled to go."

"Molly and Mason are coming too," he added quickly, clearly trying to sweeten the deal.

"You're kidding, right?" I said, sitting up straighter, one eyebrow raised.

"Nope. I'm serious. Come on, Sam. We didn't even have a graduation party, and you've been cooped up all week." His voice was tinged with exasperation, and I could almost picture him pacing, trying to win me over.

I hesitated, staring at the ceiling as I weighed my options. Did I really want to spend the night at some over-the-top party? But then again, staying home was starting to feel suffocating. "You better have rum there," I finally said.

"Don't worry, I'll make it happen. So you're in?"

"I'm in," I said with a resigned smile. "Text me the address."

"Great! Be there at eight. And Sam? I mean it—eight o'clock sharp."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll see you at eight." As soon as I confirmed, he hung up, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Graduating from university a week ago had left me in a weird limbo, spending most of my time holed up at home, overthinking every decision about my future. Scott's invite felt like a chance to break the monotony. Besides, it had been too long since I'd let myself enjoy a night out.

Two hours before the party, I started getting ready. My best friend Molly was heavy on my mind, I don't think Scott would lie that she was coming too but I wonder why she would want to. As I finished my foundation and concealer routine to smooth out my skin, she messaged me, confirming she was going to this party too.

As I moved on to neutral eyeshadow to make my blue eyes pop, and winged eyeliner, I started to feel jitters. The two coats of mascara sealed the deal but came as a challenge as my hands slightly shook.

I chose the outfit before starting my makeup, my favorite look: black skinny jeans with ripped knees and a deep purple shirt that showcased my shoulder tattoos. A quick glance at the clock told me I was already running late. Eight o'clock had come but who shows up on time to a house party anyway?

I gave myself one last look in the mirror, a spritz of coconut body mist, and a quick fluff to brown hair, a cascade of curls, fell in loose waves around my bare shoulders.

Grabbing my studded backpack, I slipped on my trusty Doc Martens and headed downstairs. Normally, I'd take my motorcycle everywhere but I planned to drink tonight, so I called an Uber instead. The silver car was waiting when I stepped outside, its pine-scented air freshener assaulting my senses the moment I climbed in.