Float

Original Edition: Chapter Three

I missed them, of course. They landed in the sand at my feet.

"Let's go, Lyons," Blake called over his shoulder as he marched to his car, teetering a little to the left.

I scooped up his keys and hurried after him.

Neither Blake nor I spoke as we climbed into his parents' car, although there was some muttering and cursing as Blake wrestled with the handle and his seatbelt.

I waited until he was still to drive.

The sun had disappeared behind the horizon, leaving Holden dark and quiet. I liked the serenity and all, but I could barely find my way around Holden when it was light outside—it was ten times harder to recognize where I was when it was dark.

I had no clue if I was even going in the right direction. And Blake was no help either, since all he did was groan every time I braked too hard at a stop sign.

"Hey, Blake?"

He grunted in response.

"What street do you live on?" I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye to see that he had unbuckled himself and was slumped down in his seat, holding his face in his hands. For a moment, I thought he was crying. I thought Blake Hamilton was crying in the front seat of his parents' car. And I felt terrible for him. Even though I personally had never been cheated on before, I knew that he had to be hurting inside.

But then he looked up at me through his fingers, eyes narrowed.

"Your mom," he slurred into his hands.

"Seriously?" I demanded, regretting the moment I decided to be a good person and drive him home.

Should've made him walk.

"Seriously what?" Blake asked.

He was taunting me. I could tell from his tone. But when I looked down at him, a snide remark about him on the tip of my tongue, I saw that he was smiling. And that completely drained my mind of every good comeback I had thought of, leaving me to sit there with my mouth open, looking like an idiot.

It was the first time he had smiled at me.

Then I remembered that Blake was hammered, and he hated me.

"What is the name of your street?" I asked from between clenched teeth, glaringahead at the road.

The inebriated douchebag sitting beside me was about to get a fist to the face. I didn't care how popular he was, or how much of a loser I was. Sure, I'd been afraid of him before. The guy had a pretty intimidating glare. But for some reason, I felt sick to my stomach knowing that the only way I could get Blake to smile at me would be to get him completely intoxicated. 

We were both silent for a moment.

"Am I annoying you?" Blake asked.

"Not at all," I lied, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.

I thought I might snap it in half.

"You deserve it," he said suddenly.

"Deserve what?"

"Me, annoying the shit out of you."

"Why? What have I done to you?" I demanded.

I was mad at myself for letting him get to me. Did it really matter what Blake thought about me? That he wouldn't smile at me? He was a jerk in a bad mood—he hadn't looked very happy when I saw him with his parents before dinner. But then why had he been all happy-as-a-freaking-clam when Alissa showed up? Did I really rank worse than cheating girlfriend of his list of people he hated?