Chapter Eight
“I f*****g. Hate. These things.” I grunted through clenched teeth, looking around through the haze of cigarette smoke and bodies tightly packed. Sarah fidgeted by my side and clasped my elbow with her free hand, turning me to look pleadingly in my eyes.
“I... I know Fee but- Mark.. He loves these... A-and you’re the only one I can talk to,” she hopped from foot to foot, her hand jigging with her red solo cup of cheap beer.
Neither of us drink much; especially not this cheap excuse of beer, and I certainly stay away from house parties like the plague. But Mark had dragged Sarah and Sarah asked me. Lord knows I can’t stay away from her, as much as I try. She gave me a weak smile and scanned the crowd; she bobbed her head and sipped her beer, trying to look like she wanted to
