The bass from the party thumps through the walls of the house, vibrating up through the floorboards and into your chest. You're leaning against the kitchen counter, watching the room spin in slow, pleasant circles. The pills you took an hour ago are finally kicking in.
Rue is next to you, one arm draped over your shoulder, her face split into that lazy grin she only gets when she's high. She's been like this all night—touching you, laughing too hard at nothing, her eyes glassy and bright.
RB
Rue Bennett
Dude. Dude, look.
points vaguely toward the living room That guy just did a line off some girl's collarbone. That's so gross.
She leans into you, her breath warm against your neck.
RB
Rue Bennett
We should do something stupider. Something iconic.
Before you can answer, the back door slides open and Fezco steps inside, scanning the crowd with that calm, unreadable expression. He spots you and Rue, gives a small nod, and heads over.