Chapter 93

A while ago, a person sent me in a review a new cover, made with artificial intelligence, for the story, I appreciated the gesture but the cover really didn't catch my attention, I didn't feel that it fit the novel at all.

Now I ask for your help, my readers, if you have the opportunity and want to try the power of creating images with artificial intelligence, I will open a small contest for covers for the novel in the comments of this chapter, for Sunday of next week, the image with the most likes in the comments will be, for an indefinite time, the cover of the novel on all sites. (Obviously I reserve the right to ignore any offensive image no matter how many likes it gets, although it is quite possible that there will not be a single contestant)

A little bit of a 'filler'

Enjoy.

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"If you don't close your mouth, you're going to start drooling," appearing out of nowhere behind Diane with an arrogant smile, Mandela declared, raising her eyebrows after a few seconds of silence.

Upon hearing the girl's joke, I instinctively tried to close my mouth, only to realize it had actually been closed from the start.

"You look fantastic," I said, ignoring Kat's soft laughter—she was also behind Diane, along with Mandela. I smiled at Diane, who returned a small smile.

"Thank you, you also look really handsome," Diane replied with a slight nod, trying to contain a bigger smile.

"I do what I can," I joked, exaggerating an arrogance I didn't really deserve.

"It's surprising that when you want to, you can actually have some style, Duncan," Mandela commented, studying my outfit with her head tilted, visibly impressed.

"Yeah, well… I had a little help from Teddy, Bianca, and Baja," I admitted, immediately losing the fake arrogant smile. I knew there was a big chance Bianca would tell Kat what had happened at my house, so there was really no reason to hide it.

"Oh, now it makes sense," Kat said as she walked around Diane while leaving Meemaw's house. "The only way you could have such good style is if someone tied it to a brick and threw it at your face."

"Hey!" I exclaimed, pretending—maybe not entirely—to be offended. "That might be true, but you didn't have to say it out loud," I added immediately.

"A lot of people will be grateful to whoever dressed you," Mandela joked, smiling as she also walked out of the house. "Those long t-shirts you like to wear really hide your physique, Duncan. Don't they?" she asked, lightly tapping Diane's shoulder with a significant smile.

"Yeah, I can see that," Diane replied casually, also studying my shirt. "Although I don't see any problem with how you normally dress, your clothes certainly hide your muscles," she added with a slight frown, as if analyzing the information.

"Oh, you still have so much to learn," Kat declared, faking concern while placing a hand on Diane's shoulder.

"You really don't see a problem with the t-shirts Duncan wears?" Mandela asked, incredulous.

"No, I mean… it's practical," Diane replied, shrugging softly, visibly confused.

"That's what I keep saying," I said cheerfully, pointing at Diane. "You really understand me," I added suddenly, pulling her into a hug.

Diane, surprised by my actions, kept her head against my chest for just a second before gently wrapping her arms around my torso.

I didn't plan to mention it out loud, but as she had her face against my chest, I could feel Diane taking deep breaths, as if she were smelling me.

"At least wait until the party, where I don't have to see you and be reminded of how lonely I am," Mandela declared, shaking her head with theatrical sadness.

"You have me," Kat quickly reminded her, hugging her tightly from the side.

"Oh yeah, that's right, I have you," Mandela acknowledged with a rather poor attempt to seem excited, yet she still leaned into Kat's hug.

"And me too," Diane added after taking another deep breath. Releasing me from her embrace, she quickly turned to the other two girls, who immediately welcomed her into their hug, leaving me completely aside.

Despite being "abandoned" by Diane, I felt immense joy seeing her share hugs so effortlessly with Kat and Mandela. It truly made me happy to see her making friends and opening up more to the world.

"Thanks, guys," Mandela said playfully after a moment in the group hug.

"As much as I enjoy seeing all this camaraderie, it's late. Are you ready?" I asked, checking the time on Bob's watch. It was already almost twenty minutes past the time we had agreed to arrive at the party.

"We're going to a high school party, Duncan. People don't expect you to be on time," Mandela scoffed as she walked backward toward her truck.

"I know that," I exclaimed, offended. "I just don't like arriving late," I added in a murmur, more to myself than to anyone else.

"Whatever, see you there?" I asked Kat, resigned as I saw Mandela ignoring me.

"Sure," Kat replied, amused. "See you there," she added with a smile toward Diane before following Mandela.

"Ready?" I asked once Kat had taken a few steps away, raising my hand to invite Diane to take it.

"Yes," Diane answered with a cheerful smile, taking my hand.

"I don't know if I made myself clear earlier, but whoever is going with you to this party is a lucky dog. You look absolutely beautiful," I said, joking as we walked to my car, hand in hand.

"Yes, I think he's really lucky," Diane replied, squeezing my hand and slightly raising an eyebrow with a small smile.

"I might even have to fight him to be able to spend some time with you," I joked with a falsely defeated sigh.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think you would win," Diane responded, pressing her lips together to avoid smiling, with fake pity. "He's really strong. I've seen him fight before."

"Really?" I asked with curiosity as we reached my car. I walked over to the passenger side to open the door for her, but before Diane could answer, a voice interrupted us.

"What are you talking about?" Georgie asked, appearing out of nowhere behind us.

"What the—" I exclaimed, startled, instinctively pulling Diane behind me. "Georgie, don't ever do that again, man," I added seriously, raising my fist in front of my face, slightly embarrassed.

"Shut up!" Georgie said anxiously, immediately bringing a finger to his lips in concern, checking toward his house.

Dressed like some action movie protagonist of the moment and heavily perfumed, it was obvious Georgie was sneaking out of his house to come to the party with us. Knowing his mother, he probably hadn't even bothered to ask for permission.

"How long have you been hiding there?" I asked, sighing and shaking my head, amused.

"A really long time," Georgie replied, nodding slightly, oddly proud of himself.

Pausing for a few seconds to process the idea of Georgie hiding in the bushes, I finally said, "All right, get in," frankly impressed by my friend's resilience as I adjusted the passenger seat so he could climb in the back.

"Why was he hiding there?" Diane asked, puzzled as she watched Georgie get into the car. "Is he sneaking out of his house?" she added with interest.

"Yup," I responded casually while readjusting the seat.

"Oh," murmuring and nodding slightly, apparently processing the information, Diane took a quick glance at the Cooper house for a second before shrugging and getting into the passenger seat.

After carefully closing the door, I walked to the other side and got in. Georgie's cologne, which had already been quite noticeable before he got in, turned into a mild torture in the confined space. It didn't take a full minute before Diane and I rolled down the windows to let the air flow.

Other than that, with music from one of Diane's chosen CDs, the ride to the party went smoothly.

Several minutes later, when we arrived in the neighborhood—a middle-class area—we immediately spotted the house where the party was taking place.

With poorly parked cars scattered across the surprisingly large yard, people drinking and moving to the rhythm of the music, and windows flashing with colorful lights, I parked my car across the street.

"See you inside," I told Georgie after parking, patting his shoulder once he got out of the back seat.

"I'll be busy," Georgie said with an arrogant smile, raising an eyebrow before confidently striding across the street.

Watching my friend greet everyone he passed—most of them ignoring him—I chuckled as I closed my car door and walked to the other side, where Diane had already gotten out.

"Are you all right?" I asked, seeing Diane study the lively house with a completely serious expression, leaning carefully against my car.

"Yes," Diane answered seriously, without taking her eyes off the house.

"If you're not comfortable, we can leave. No one will blame you," I assured her calmly, squeezing her arm gently. "We can always go to another party in the future, when you feel ready."

"Oh, I'm ready," Diane said, holding my hand that was still on her arm. Returning her attention to me with a small smile, she assured me, "I was just comparing it to the parties and galas I've attended," nodding toward the house.

"What are the biggest comparisons?" I asked, amused, imagining the kind of "parties" Diane was talking about.

"Well, for starters, there are people my age here," Diane quickly replied with a small smile, thinking for a second about my question. "The noise, in this case, comes from music and not from people arguing about academics," she continued, shrugging her shoulders.

"Those sound like really fun parties," I declared sarcastically. They were exactly what I imagined they would be.

"Not really," Diane said, shaking her head thoughtfully, not noticing the irony in my statement. "I would say they were more of a show-off gathering; most of the time, it was about proving you had more achievements than the other," she explained, nodding gently.

"Well, sounds like there are some similarities between this party and that one," I murmured, tentatively moving my head as I recalled the few—almost nonexistent—times I had attended parties.

"Really?" Diane asked. "I'd really like to see that," she added, seemingly intrigued from a scientific perspective. After I nodded at her first question, Diane turned her attention back to the party.

"Okay," I said amusedly. "Are you ready then?" I asked once more, raising my hand.

"Yeah," Diane said, nodding as she took my hand confidently.

"Let's go then," I said, curious to see how Diane would react to the party up close. I walked alongside her, following the same path George had taken.

As I walked next to Diane, studying her face and how she observed everything with a spark of interest in her eyes, I thought—only for a full second—that coming to the party hadn't been such a bad idea after all.

"Duncan!" Suddenly, an obviously drunk teenager with nothing covering his torso shouted incredulously, grabbing my shoulder.

The guy's—someone I didn't recognize at all—shout caught the attention of many people around us. More than one, who were also surprisingly intoxicated, shouted just as excitedly upon seeing me.

"Hey... you," I said, smiling politely as I slowly removed the first guy's hand from my shoulder.

"Oh yeah, sorry," the guy said, realizing he had held onto my shoulder for too long. Despite being drunk, he waved his hand as he spoke. "I can't believe you actually came to my party," he added, stepping back in a strangely concerned manner.

So this was Jake Thompson.

"I must be incredible at throwing parties if even you showed up," Jake declared excitedly, raising a disposable cup and spilling half of his drink on the floor in the process.

"Yeah, that's totally the reason I came," I responded to the drunk teenager, nodding while keeping a completely serious expression.

Knowing that this was his house, seeing the state he was in, and how he was chugging the rest of his drink without any control, I felt relieved knowing that Jake wouldn't be driving—not just for his own safety, but for the safety of everyone else in Medford.

"Great," Jake said, grinning cheerfully. "There's a lot of beer and drinks, help yourself," he added, patting my shoulder before continuing on his unsteady path.

"Was he your friend?" Diane asked, confused. "You've never mentioned a Jake before," she added, explaining the reason for her question.

"I think it's the first time I've met the guy," I answered, shrugging and trying not to smile.

"Well, then that was interesting," Diane declared, nodding slowly. "He seemed pretty excited to see you, just like those other four guys."

"That's the alcohol," I corrected her with a sigh.

I knew I was relatively 'famous' among the people at school, basically a monthly source of gossip in the hallways, but I had no intention of clarifying that to Diane.

"Okay," Diane murmured, tilting her head slightly before continuing to walk toward the house, pulling me along by the hand.

As we walked through the house's large front yard, I immediately noticed how several eyes focused on Diane and me. Right after that, I saw the birth of a new rumor unfolding.

At the very least, I hoped Diane wouldn't notice...

"Why are they looking at us so surprised?" Diane asked, puzzled.

"It's because you look so beautiful," I said easily, quickly finding the correct answer.

"Stop," Diane said, pretending to be exasperated as she gently pushed her shoulder against my arm, a contained smile on her face.

"What? It's the truth," I continued, growing increasingly uninterested in the stares around us, playing along with Diane as we made our way into the party.

Upon entering the house—which, like the front yard, was quite large—we were met with more teenagers drinking and nodding their heads to the loud music blasting inside. Some heads turned in surprise upon seeing Diane and me enter, but I quickly ignored them—or at least I tried to.

Knowing Kat, I figured my friend and, therefore, possibly the rest of my friends would be wherever the music was the loudest.

"There's not a single waiter," Diane said, rising onto the tips of her toes as she spoke as close to my ear as possible while I guided her through the house, despite not knowing exactly where I was going.

"No, there isn't," I answered, amused as I stopped and lowered my head next to her ear.

"I like the music," Diane said, taking advantage of our closeness. Facing me, she took my other hand and began to dance softly.

I was quite surprised at how well Diane was handling the party atmosphere. Without a hint of embarrassment, she kept a small smile on her face while looking at me intently. She continued dancing in the middle of the 'dance floor'—which was actually Jake's living room.

Still impressed, I watched her as she continued dancing in front of me. The music pulsed around us, the lights flashed in sync with the rhythm, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away as Diane danced with her eyes closed.

"Aren't you going to dance?" Diane asked, opening her eyes after what felt like hours. Smiling, she moved closer to me curiously, still swaying.

"If that makes you happy," I said, pretending to give in before quickly pulling Diane closer to me. Amused, I started moving along with her.

Diane, who at first seemed slightly forced to move with me, surprisingly adjusted quickly, dancing in sync with me and laughing cheerfully.

Without realizing it, I was no longer too worried about the curious gazes around us or what they might be whispering. At that moment, only Diane and her bright smile held my attention.

"Ah, I can't believe it! PJ Duncan is dancing! And enjoying it!"

Beside us, seemingly out of nowhere, Mandela and Kat—who had a slight sheen of sweat on her face, obviously from dancing, and was holding a disposable cup—stood next to us.

"You've seen me dance," I said to Kat, pretending to be offended as I raised my arms.

"That was so long ago that it's like it never happened," Kat immediately responded, shrugging while continuing to move to the music. She was visibly enjoying the party.

"Nobody cares about that," Mandela exclaimed sarcastically, dancing dramatically toward Diane. "The real question is—are you having fun?" she added, smiling at Diane.

"Yeah, you're right," Kat agreed, also focusing on Diane.

"Yes," Diane answered after a few seconds of contemplation. She seemed surprised by her own response. "I'm having fun," she added with more certainty.

That was good.

"Great," Mandela commented excitedly, dancing next to Diane.

"Aren't you thirsty?" Kat asked a moment later, noticing the slight sheen of sweat on Diane's face.

Diane shrugged slightly and nodded casually. "What are you drinking?" she asked, pointing at the cup Kat was holding.

"Beer," Kat immediately replied, handing her cup to Diane so she could try it.

And before I could do anything to stop Diane from drinking alcohol...

"It doesn't taste good," Diane said after taking a small sip.

Good.

"But it's refreshing," she added a second later, taking another sip.

"I'm pretty sure there's water or soda in the kitchen. Wouldn't you rather have that?" I asked Diane, slightly concerned. I figured it wasn't really a problem if she wanted to try alcohol—I wasn't going to drink a single drop, so I could keep an eye on her, and I was going to take her home anyway.

"I want to experience the full teenage experience," Diane replied with scientific seriousness.

"All right, so let me get you and Kat another drink," I said after calculating everything that could go wrong—there really wasn't much. "What about you, Mandela?" I asked, hoping she wasn't drinking, or I'd have to drive her truck.

"Just some soda, please," Mandela responded immediately, unknowingly relieving my concern.

Nodding in farewell, I moved through the crowd, searching for the kitchen in the spacious house. Once I found it, greeting those who recognized me, I poured the drinks and turned to head back.

A few steps away from the kitchen door, pressed against the wall, I recognized my friend David completely absorbed in kissing a girl who, in fact, had him pinned against the wall.

Good for him, I guess.

As I left the kitchen with the three cups in my hands, I lightly kicked one of my friend's feet as a greeting, obviously receiving no response.

"Karen Smith," I murmured to myself, impressed by my friend as I walked out of the kitchen.

He, Brock, and Georgie, ever since the days when I was dating Regina and we all sat together at the same table, had always tried to impress the 'innocent' Karen. It seemed that David had somehow succeeded.

Diane, Kat, and Mandela, dancing without a care, left me in charge of their drinks on one of the living room couches. As I watched Diane laugh and dance, time passed.

At a certain moment, as if synchronized, the three girls stopped and approached me.

"We're going to the bathroom," Diane said, pointing at herself and slightly slurring her words. It was surprising because she had really only drunk one full cup of beer and a few sips from Kat's cup.

"All right," I responded, nodding in amusement. I didn't know why they were all going together, but thinking about it, it was much better than letting Diane go on her own.

"Stay here," Diane said seriously, surprisingly leaning in to give me a quick kiss.

"Don't move," she added, softly tapping my nose and smiling widely before walking off with her friends.

Yeah, no more beer for Diane.

Shaking my head in amusement as I watched the three girls dance their way out of the living room, I completely ignored it when someone sat beside me.

"I thought you were dating Stratford," a suddenly honeyed voice whispered directly into my ear.

"Regina," I exclaimed, startled by how close someone had gotten into my personal space.

I suppose that if Karen was at the party, it made sense that Regina would be here too. I'd bet a good amount of money that Gretchen was somewhere around as well.

"Hey, PJ," Regina greeted me with an oddly arrogant smile.

"Hello," I replied, shifting away from her on the couch—she was practically leaning on my arm.

"So, if you weren't dating Stratford, who was she?" Regina asked, pointing in the direction where Diane and the girls had left.

From the time I had spent with Regina and her friends, I knew they enjoyed gossiping about other people. I had never asked, but I was pretty sure she knew gossip or at least rumors about everyone in school.

So, of course, she was curious about Diane.

"Like I told you before, Regina, Kat and I are just friends," I said calmly.

"Really?" Regina asked, stretching out her arm to rest her head on her hand, inadvertently leaning closer to me again.

She was good, but I could see through her.

I had heard from my friends' conversations in the cafeteria and during my little crusade against bullying about some of the things Regina had done to other people. Despite that, when I asked a couple of people—other than Kat, who had a strong dislike for Regina—they seemed to worship the ground she walked on.

"Yes, but 'her' is Diane Adler, my girlfriend," I said seriously, once again shifting away on the couch.

"Diane Adler?" Regina asked, puzzled. "What grade is she in?" she added immediately, clearly not recognizing the name.

"She's from East Texas Tech," I replied easily with a smile. I was going to avoid correcting whatever idea Regina was forming in her head.

Was Diane our age? Yes. Was she also a university student? Kind of.

"East Texas Tech," Regina repeated, tilting her head as she observed me with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. I could see her mind working, trying to fit this new information into her elaborate mental map of gossip and social connections.

"Interesting," she murmured, leaning back a little more on the couch, her smile barely perceptible.

I didn't respond. I let the silence linger between us as I took a sip of my water, pretending her presence didn't make me uncomfortable.

"And how did you two meet?" she finally asked, her tone falsely casual.

Before I could respond, a loud and exaggerated laugh interrupted anything I might have said. I looked up just in time to see Diane, Kat, and Mandela, still laughing, with Kat and Mandela openly sending hateful glares at Regina beside me.

Diane saw me and immediately smiled, making her way toward me with that natural ease that characterized her. Surprisingly, and before I could say anything, she dropped down beside me—practically on my lap—without noticing, or perhaps without caring, that Regina was there, hugging my neck and kissing me.

This was new... not necessarily bad, but definitely new.

"Did you miss me?" Diane asked, barely pulling back a couple of inches from my face.

"What?" I murmured, still processing what had just happened.

"Dummy," Diane huffed, giving me another small kiss.

"So, you must be Diane," Regina said forcefully drawing Diane's attention, her tone attempting to sound friendly, accompanied by a smile I could immediately recognize as completely fake.

"Ah yes, I'm sorry, who are you?" Diane asked with an equally polite smile, though I could tell it was just as fake.

I had no idea what was happening, but I could feel the tension between them growing, like a spark about to ignite a fire. Kat, standing next to Mandela, crossed her arms, and judging by how white her knuckles were, she was more than ready to start a fight.

"Regina, seriously, it was nice seeing you, but we were in the middle of something," I quickly blurted out, interrupting before anything could escalate beyond vicious glares—even though, I had to admit, it was really interesting to see this new side of Diane.

Regina looked at me, pretending to be hurt.

"Oh, of course, I wouldn't want to interrupt," she said with a sweetness that was obviously fake. Then, she stood up, smoothing her skirt with almost theatrical grace. "See you, PJ. Danielle."

She turned and disappeared into the crowd without looking back.

"It's Diane," Diane muttered through gritted teeth, frowning as she stared at Regina vanishing into the small crowd of people.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

"So that's Regina George," Diane added, turning her attention back to me once Regina was gone.

"Yes," I replied immediately.

"She's pretty," Diane commented, pressing her lips together, trying to sound casual—but with her, it was sometimes pretty easy to recognize a lie.

I didn't know how to respond.

Fortunately, I didn't have to.

"That was awesome!" Mandela exclaimed excitedly as she approached the couch along with Kat, who was still keeping an eye on where Regina had exited.

"You were right, it did feel pretty good," Diane admitted, smiling at her friend.

I huffed out a quiet laugh, still feeling the lingering tension in my shoulders. "Well, whatever that was, let's not make a habit of it, please."

Diane turned her head to look at me, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Oh, come on. Admit it, you liked it, I can tell" Diane added, gently biting her lip while still hugging my neck.

Closing my mouth, since I really didn't want to lie, I lowered my head slightly in defeat.

"I really don't like her," Kat said, narrowing her eyes as she grabbed the drink I had been holding onto for her and took a sip.

"Me neither," Mandela agreed.

"She looks like a movie villain," Diane added, finally letting go of my neck but keeping her head on my shoulder as she turned her attention back to her friends.

It was interesting to see Diane having a completely normal conversation for a girl her age.

"Bah, whatever. Let's go dance. I need to get Regina's stupid face out of my head," Kat said, suddenly standing up and dragging Mandela with her, who followed without complaint.

"So... jealousy, that's new," I said teasingly, wrapping my arms around Diane.

"I wasn't jealous," Diane said quickly, lifting her head from my shoulder. "I was just, and I quote Mandela, 'showing Regina who's boss.'" She declared proudly.

"'Showing who's boss'?" I asked, pleasantly surprised. There wasn't even a hint of embarrassment in Diane's statement.

"Yes," Diane responded, nodding firmly. "Besides, I wanted to kiss you. I really like you," she added after taking another sip of her drink.

"Well, thanks for that. I really like you too," I said, amused.

Maybe a drunk Diane isn't that bad.

After that, Diane dragged me along once again, and I followed without issue, dancing right in front of the couch. I knew alcohol had different effects on different people, but for Diane, it was more than obvious that it completely erased her sense of shame. As we danced, she constantly pulled me in to kiss her—something that, despite our 'agreement' about public displays of affection, I happily went along with.

Strangely, while we were dancing among the partygoers, more than once, seemingly drunk people almost crashed into Diane with full drinks in their hands. Fortunately, since I hadn't had a single drop of alcohol, I was able to avoid it every time.

Despite that, we had fun until my friends got tired.

Georgie, who had disappeared since the start of the night, eventually reappeared along with David, whose lips were completely swollen—undoubtedly a result of his night with Karen.

"This was a great night," David declared, plopping down next to me with a goofy grin.

"Looks like you were having fun," I said, amused.

"Oh, PJ, you have no idea," David responded, throwing an arm over my shoulder.

Not much later, all my friends and I left the party. Kat, David, and Georgie got into Mandela's truck, while Diane and I left alone in my car.

Diane, who was still slightly drunk in the passenger seat, remained silent the entire ride home, simply listening to music and staring at the side of my face.

It was a bit distracting since she had a small smile fixed on her face while she played with and stroked my arm.

"We're here," I said upon arriving in front of my house after parking my car. Mandela's truck was parked in front of Meemaw's house, completely empty—I had no idea where Georgie and David had gone.

"I really, really like you," Diane, who hadn't said a single word during the ride, suddenly said.

"I really like you too," I replied amused, gently leaning in to kiss her cheek. Diane simply closed her eyes, possibly expecting a kiss.

"No, you don't understand," Diane slowly opened her eyes after not receiving the kiss. "I have dreams about you," she added, laughing softly. "Really wild dreams," she said, opening her eyes wider.

Okay.

"I love those dreams," Diane added, tilting her head with longing.

Unable to help myself, I laughed softly, resting my face on my hand. At that moment, I was quite happy I had gone to the party.

"Don't laugh, I'm telling you the truth," Diane said, frowning slightly, her words carrying a hint of pain.

"I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you," I quickly said, gently caressing Diane's face.

"Ah, ok then," Diane said, pushing her face softly against my hand and closing her eyes.

In silence, watching Diane nuzzle against my hand, we remained in my car for a few minutes.

"Come on, let me take you home," I finally said, having made sure to engrave the vision before me into my memory.

"I don't want to," Diane said immediately, opening her eyes. "I want you," she added after a few moments of staring at me.

"Sorry?" I asked, surprised.

"Yeah," she murmured, shifting in her seat toward me. "I want one of those dreams to be real," she added, moving onto my seat, sitting on one of my legs, and wrapping her arms around my neck. "We were in your car, like this," Diane narrated, pulling her face away from my neck and pressing her nose against mine. "I kissed you right here," she continued, lightly playing with her finger before pointing at my neck.

"Diane," I murmured weakly, unable to stop myself from enjoying what was happening.

"And you held me here," ignoring me, Diane continued, taking my hands and placing them on her waist. "Just like this," she said, biting her lip slightly as she lowered her face to my neck. "You smell incredibly good," she murmured before starting to kiss my neck.

I was really enjoying what was happening, to be honest, but...

"Okay," I said after a moment, pulling Diane away with all my moral strength.

"You don't want this?" Diane asked, concerned.

"Oh no, I REALLY want this," I said immediately, pointing at her and then at myself. "But you're drunk right now, and that's not the way it should be," I added seriously.

"But I really want it now," Diane murmured, resting her head against my chest.

"Me too, but later, I promise," I reassured both her and myself as I stroked her back. "Diane?" I added a moment later when I received no response.

Somehow, she had fallen completely asleep against my chest.

"Great," I murmured snorting, opening my door and stepping out of the car with Diane in my arms—she was practically weightless.

I carried Diane to Meemaw's door, which I slowly opened.

Inside the house, with strange tubes on her head, Meemaw was sitting in the living room, drinking what seemed to be tea while watching TV.

"Aces," Meemaw said with a completely serious face. "I thought I was done with this when Mary moved out," she huffed, slowly standing up. "Come on," she added, motioning for me to follow her with her hand.

Meemaw led me to Diane's room, where Kat and Mandela were, just like Diane, completely asleep, cuddled together on Diane's bed.

"Let me take that off," Meemaw said, removing Diane's shoes and then her jacket. "Lay her down," she ordered, pointing to a small space next to the two girls.

After tucking in Diane, Kat, and Mandela, Meemaw pushed me out of the room.

"Did she have fun?" Meemaw asked as we walked to the front door of her house.

"Yes," I replied immediately.

"Did you drink?"

"No."

"Not a single drop?"

"Not a single drop."

"All right, go home. I need to sleep," Meemaw said, pushing me out of her house. A second later, she shut the door behind me.

"Good night," I said to the closed door before walking to my house.

"Hey champ, had fun?" Bob asked as I entered. He had likely been waiting for me to get home, watching TV in complete silence in the living room.

"Yes, Dad," I replied, stretching my neck.

"Good. Your friends are in your room—don't wake your mother up early tomorrow," Bob warned, pointing his finger.

"Don't worry," I huffed, amused upon discovering where Georgie and David had ended up.

"Good night, then," Bob said, yawning as he turned off the TV.

"Night."

Overall, I was quite happy that the party had gone so well for Diane—it had been a good night.

At least, that's what I thought—until the next day when we found out that someone had died in a car accident.

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Author Thoughts:

As always, I'm not American, not a doctor, not a fighter, not Magnus Carlsen, not Michael Phelps, not Arsene Lupin and not McLovin.

Another chapter has passed, so new thanks are in order. I would like to especially thank:

11332223

RandomPasserby96

Victor_Venegas

I think that's all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I'll correct them immediately.

Thank you for reading! :D

PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

PS2: There are some mistakes in the last chapter, I'll try to fix them right now, but the main thing is, the fights, they weren't really 'this' weekend but the next one, I need to correct that conversation with Case.