Free Wrecked Book 4 by Rachel Hanna

me. He told me I was very pretty. I was pretty sure I laughed at him. I couldn ’ t be sure, but I thought he was the guy from the kitchen. One of them, they all looked the same.
    I remember his hand on my leg and then — Beck was there, screaming at him. She got me up off the couch and together we stumbled out of the house.
    “ I couldn ’ t find Mandy, ” she told me and we had to call a cab.
    But I remembered that night as the best night of my life for a long time afterwards.
    Now that I was in college, I ’ d realized the truth. It wasn ’ t all that great of an experience, these college parties. I should have learned my lesson that night with Beck and Mandy, but I was hardheaded and rebellious to say the least. Even though some part of me had to acknowledge that what happened that night was bad, the rest of me was pigheaded enough to keep charging forward.
    It was Beck ’ s death that really finally brought me around. I wished I could say it didn ’ t take something so awful happening for me to finally shape up, but that was the truth. There was nothing else that was going to change me.
    The memory of the party reminded me staunchly of why I was here in the first place. I needed to find Miranda.
    I looked around, but didn ’ t see her. She had likely been swallowed up by the crowd, or she was getting more to drink, which was not something that made me feel better in the least. I decided the best place to start really looking for her was the kitchen. If there were drinks, which I was sure there obviously was, then they would be in the kitchen and if Miranda was looking for another drink, then that was where she was probably headed.
    I wasn ’ t sure where it was, so I had to explore a bit. I came across a staircase, so clearly there was at least a second story, maybe a third. I didn ’ t pay much attention to the house as I ’ d come up and it had been dark. Although the house had been lit up, the upper levels hadn ’ t been. Most parties took place almost exclusively on the ground floor — or out on the porch — so the upper floors weren ’ t lit and I couldn ’ t really tell how many stories there were from the outside anyway.
    Reaching the kitchen, I glanced around at the multitude of faces searching for either Miranda or Kass. Or the twins, even. Anyone who might be able to lead me back to Miranda. But the kitchen was packed, too, and I wasn ’ t sure if I would be able to find anyone.
    Someone tried to shove a drink into my hand. I took it purely out of instinctual reaction. I didn ’ t want it to fall to the floor and make a mess, so I gripped the cup as the other person let go. Looking down at the amber liquid that swirled inside it, I couldn ’ t deny that I was tempted.
    God did I want a drink. Badly.
    It had been so long now, and it was for the best, I knew, but that didn ’ t mean I didn ’ t crave the ugly, bitter taste of alcohol. I remembered how fun it was to drink, how much I ’ d enjoyed doing it in high school. It took the complications of life away and made everything, if only for a night, easier to deal with.
    Even with the bitch of a headache in the morning and the disaster that was the hangover, it had been worth it to my high school self to drink to her heart ’ s content.
    Now, as I stared down into the cup, I contemplated taking a sip. Just a quick, brief sip that was barely anything at all. It didn ’ t really count, did it? I bit my lip, thinking of how much easier my life would be if I just had a little alcohol in my system. Suddenly, all the drama that had been swirling around in my world would drift away and I could easily laugh and have fun with everyone else, not worrying about every little thing .
    The temptation was real and so clear that I almost lifted it to my lips, but before I could give in I shook my head. I didn ’ t need to do this. I wasn ’ t that girl anymore. I shoved my cup onto the counter and moved on. I was here looking for someone to keep them