Page 46 of Sinful Storms
Wiping my mouth and capping the bottle again, I rose to my feet and followed the crowd of students heading into the marquee. My senses were immediately assaulted by a wall of noise and smells and heat. The music from the DJ booth, the groups dancing and drinking and shouting over the sounds coming from the speakers, the popcorn and candy floss machines churning out endless salted and sweet offerings, and draped from the ceiling, the glow of the fairy lights cocooning us all inside the billowing canvas.
It was pretty, and I wished I was in the mood to enjoy it. Threading my way through the crowds, I stopped in front of the popcorn machine. There was a stack of recyclable plastic drinking cups next to it, which I assumed were meant for us to use for the popcorn. When I’d filled one of the cups with warm, salted popcorn, I made my way over to the side of the tent, away from the dance floor, placing my overflowing cup on one of the tiny plastic tables that were dotted around the edges of the marquee.
Licking my lips to remove the salt after a large mouthful of popcorn, I debated whether to risk another swig from my bottle of vodka to quench my thirst.
If I was honest with myself, quenching my thirst wasn’t the reason I’d brought the vodka with me. In truth, I wanted to forget my worries and try to enjoy the party, but maybe I should pace myself.
Thankfully, the decision was made for me.
“Aria! There you are.” Gracelyn and Samira appeared on either side of me. Gracelyn slid her arm through mine while Samira liberated the bottle from my grip, taking a long swig. She immediately began coughing and choking, frantically wiping at her mouth.
“What the fucking fuck, Aria? Where did you get this? This isnotSmirnoff.”
“Gimme.” Gracelyn held out her hand, and when Samira gave her the bottle with a warning look, she took a small, cautious sip. “Ugh! No, I agree with Mira. Did you get this from the dodgy shop by Nottswood train station?”
I had, actually.
“No! Okay, yes. I didn’t know there was anything wrong with it.”
“Don’t buy from there. They sell bootleg shit,” Grace advised, tipping the bottle to her lips again.
“And you’re still drinking it…why?”
“To get drunk.” She shrugged, handing the bottle to her girlfriend, who stared at it for a second before also shrugging and drinking from it.
My fingers curled around the fake Smirnoff. “Give it to me. I need to get drunk more than you two do.”
I meant those words.
Thankfully, the maybe-vodka worked its magic. Between the three of us, we drained the bottle, and everything became a blur.
24
TRISTAN
“Mate, you’ve got to try this.” Blaine pressed a shot glass into my hand, and I tipped it to my lips without even checking the contents. Not the brightest idea, but it was probably okay if it came from him.
“Ugh! Fuck! What was that?” I grimaced at the overly sweet flavour. Blueberry? Blackberry? Something like that.
“Don’t worry about that. Have another.”
I shrugged and downed another shot, then ditched the glass and made a circuit of the marquee. It took a while because people kept coming up to me to congratulate me on our recent lacrosse win and to ask what I thought about our chances of winning the league in our final game. It would come down to us winning our game and St. Peter’s losing their game, so in a sense, it was out of our hands. I knew we could easily win our game after all the prep we’d done, but I wasn’t so sure if Burford would be able to beat St. Peter’s.
Another thing that delayed me as I made the rounds was the steady stream of girls coming up to me, batting their lashes, sliding their arms around my waist, flirting obsessively. All the usual, and normally I loved it, but a certain raven-haired littlescorpion with soft honey eyes and a viciously sharp tongue had wormed her way into my brain. That was a big problem and one I didn’t yet have a solution to.
I detached yet another girl from my person with a sigh, smoothing out my T-shirt where she’d rucked it up. Shit, was my hair okay after that other girl had touched it? Pulling my phone free from my pocket, I flipped on the selfie camera and spent a minute rearranging my hair to my satisfaction. That done, I continued on, ducking outside when I’d finally completed a full circuit of the marquee.
Out here, the air was cooler, and it was a relief after the stifling atmosphere in the tent. Fairy lights had been strung up between the marquee and the spectator stands, which were currently roped off, off limits to students tonight.
In the roped-off stands, a flash of shimmering black caught my eye, and I was moving before I’d made a conscious thought to. I took in the scene in an instant—Aria, reclining back across the seats with her mouth set in a grimace, and Graham leaning over her, his hand moving up her fucking thigh as he kissed her neck.
I saw red. Grabbing a handful of his shirt, I yanked him off her, sending us both staggering backwards.
“What the fuck!” he roared, twisting around and tearing himself out of my grip.
I drew my fist back and punched him square in the jaw. He reared back, swaying on his feet before lunging at me with his arms swinging.
“Stay the fuck away from her,” I snarled, ducking out of the way of his fists and getting him in a headlock.
