You’re Mine by Penny Brooks

 Harper

 I didn’t want to go to Blake’s party, and I tried to come up with every excuse in my head to back out.

I even ran a few of them past Sadie once I found out Easton was dead set on going.

But each excuse I gave to my best friend, she returned with the same reply—that I was going no matter what, and her sassy self didn't want to hear any more abott it.

Anxiety ate at me all day.

I could feel it in my hands while I was getting ready, my eye liner a wobbly line, far too thick and beyond repairable.

But after that joint we smoked in the car and the electric blue punch that I've been sipping from Blake’s kitchen—that probably has thirty different kinds of alcohol in it, oops, whatever—I hate to admit that I’m actually having fun.

But I really am.

Blake’s game room, which is more like an arcade, is where we've spent most of the night.

The boys have been battling out an epic game of beer pong, Sadie and I jumping in to partner with them when we're not lost in our own war of Ms.

Pac—Man or bowling— because, of course Blake has a bowling alley in his basement.

And whenever we run low on drinks, Blake sends one of his servers to refill our glasses.

I've never been to a high school party that has waiters.

Not even Easton hires them for his ragers.

But I’m not surprised that Blake has gone all out, he doesn’t do anything half—assed.

Even as he’s standing next to Easton, partnering with him on this round of pong, he looks perfect.

His hair is more styled than mine.

His outfit is so put together, I swear he uses a Stylist.

He catches me looking at him and smiles and when he finishes the round with Easton, he comes over to the bowling area where Sadie and I are hanging out.

he says, clinking

up at the TV that’s tracking

“Damn, you're on fire.

bowling.” “Neither did I,” I admit, laughing, watching Sadie’s ball head straight into the

“A few more of those”—he nods toward my glass—“and I just might be getting a kiss at midnight.” “Blake ...”

and I know that.” “Damn it!” Sadie shouts at her second attempt, which turns out

ever wanted to protect you, right?” he says when I glance at

want anyone hurting you,

that makes me fucking crazy.” “Thank you,” I whisper, feeling

always known you've had

him, but that's when I've allowed Sadie and

if I went by my heart and the way it’s felt, I’ ve been team Blake

“Good.” His grin grows.

glad you feel that way and you know there isn’t anything I wouldn't do for you.” “What am I doing wrong?” Sadie whines, a quick glance telling me she went for a third try, even

giggle at Sadie who’s throwing her hands up in the air, like she’s trying to actually fight

to Blake,

is keep Aisha tamed and make all this drama—the spray painting and the name calling and the WHGOSSIP posts—go away.” When I realize how silly I sound, that Blake doesn’t have control over any of that, and I’m just venting, probably to the wrong person, I add, “I’m

of this is in your control, but it’s getting to be a lot.” “You don’t deserve

does it keep happening? Who am I hurting so badly that they want to hurt me?” His

“I wish I knew.

take it all away and replace

full glass of punch and

the tray and hands me

news is,

and fails again, cursing at the lane like

a new year and that’s

with a fucking dud of a night.”

probably the last New Year's I'll ever celebrate with all

we go to college, everything

all return home for the holidays, who knows if

We could lose touch.

totally different

for having this