Fine but I’m not Drinking

Emily’s POV

Senior year wasn’t supposed to feel like drowning.

But that’s exactly what the past few days had felt like—an endless rush of deadlines, textbooks thicker than my will to live, debate prep that ate my lunch periods, and volunteer shifts that left my clothes smelling faintly of dog shampoo.

Every second felt like sand slipping through my fingers.

And the harder I tried to grip it, the faster it disappeared.

The library became my sanctuary.

The scent of aged paper, the glossy sheen of polished wood, the quiet whispers of pages turning—it was the one place where the world didn’t demand anything from me.

Here, I could breathe. Here, I wasn’t the girl constantly scrutinizing every choice. I was just… me.

But peace never lasted long.

Because every time I walked into the halls, I saw him.

Jake Blaze.

Dark hair, leather jacket, fists that solved everything except his own anger issues.

The guy who never passed up a chance to make my day worse and somehow still managed to look stupidly good doing it.

I hated that my eyes always found him.

I hated even more how my heartbeat changed when they did.

One afternoon, sitting at my usual library table, I glanced up—and there he was.

Through the large window, leaning against his motorcycle like he belonged in some gritty movie poster. Two girls stood in front of him, giggling like he’d handed them the moon.

He didn’t even do anything.

He just existed in that infuriating, effortless way he always did.

And I—apparently a masochist—watched like an idiot before snapping my eyes back to my essay on “the complexities of human connection.”

Yeah. Great timing.

Friday’s final bell rang like a mercy call. I practically flew toward the library with my backpack slung over my shoulder, ready to bury myself in college apps for the rest of the afternoon.

But before I made it through the door, his voice cut through the noise.

“Remember, Hart—this party is off limits to you.”

I froze.

He didn’t slow. Didn’t even look back.

Just threw the words over his shoulder like a warning—or a dare—and kept walking.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

His party. Of all things.

Excitement flickered… then panic smothered it.

Why would he even say that to me?

Before my brain could spiral further, a voice snapped me back:

“Emily! Are you coming or what?”

Sarah barreled toward me, practically sparkling with excitement.

“I—yeah, I’m coming,” I managed, though I had no idea what she meant.

She plopped across from me at our library table ten minutes later, practically vibrating.

“Guess what?” she teased.

I raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“We are going shopping for the party tonight, babe!”

My stomach dropped so hard it might’ve hit the floor.

“The party?” I whispered.

Sarah nodded like this was the best news of the century.

Meanwhile, I imagined property damage, spilled beer, girls crying in bathrooms, and Jake making my life miserable in front of an audience.

“His parties are probably a nightmare…” I muttered.

“Come on!” Sarah leaned forward, voice hushed but electric. “It’s our senior year! We don’t get do-overs.

And you can’t tell me you’re not even a little curious about what goes on in that world.”

I wanted to argue.

I really did.

But truthfully?

Curiosity had been gnawing at me since the moment Jake said don’t come.

“What if it’s one of those parties where people drink too much and do stupid things?” I tried.

“Then we’ll just watch,” Sarah grinned. “We can be the responsible ones.

Plus…” She wiggled her eyebrows. “I bet Jake will have a few things to say after your little hallway moment.”

My cheeks heated instantly.

She noticed that?

“Fine,” I said, before my brain caught up. “But I’m not drinking. And we’re leaving early."

“Deal! I'll stay the night at your place since Jake will have people at our aunts house all night. I don't know why he don't just throw it over at dads house.”

She clapped once, loud enough to earn a glare from the librarian. “This is going to be epic!”

"Sarah why does Jake live at your dads and you live at your aunts house?" I finally ask knowing it could be a touchy subject. 

A look of sadness covers her features but she quick to cover it back up with that beautiful smile of hers. 

Hours later, I stood in my room with clothes piled everywhere.

Cute but casual.

Interesting but not trying too hard.

Alive but not desperate.

I settled on an oversized cream sweater, jeans that actually made me look like I had a butt, and my favorite ankle boots. Comfortable. Safe. Still—pretty.

By the time night rolled around, my pulse wouldn’t slow.

Sarah grabbed my hand as we approached Jake’s house.

Or… mansion.

The place glowed with string lights draped across the porch, and bass vibrated the air—it felt alive, pulsing, dangerous.

Teenagers spilled across the yard like a scene ripped from a teen drama.

I swallowed hard.

This was Jake’s world.

The world he told me to stay out of.

And I was walking right into it.