How To Save A Life

Chapter 8

I leaned against the headrest of the car and listened to the music as it vibrated from the house. Students from Zobel College house never failed to amaze me, this one was no exception. It was larger than I'd thought. It is adorned with colorful flowers hung from buckets along the front, blooming beautifully. More glass than necessary lined the walls just to give a breathtaking peak of the expensive interior. It also provided a nice view of the coastline the houses were built along. 

"I don't think anyone will die in this one if that's what you're worried about," Deshawn reassured while he was in the passenger seat. It was as if he'd fizzed into place as he'd always been there. 

"Unless there's a serial killer on the loose. Then, in that case, you might have an army of ghosts to help you out," he joked. 

I threw him a glare before biting my bottom lip with nerves, smudging the red lipstick. "I just kind of wish I stayed at home now." 

"Me too." 

"We should get out," I muttered and fumbled to open the door. I knew I had to use tonight as my way of figuring out the situation. I could look into people and try to figure out suspects and motives, but I didn't know where to start. I wasn't sure who to approach first or what to say or where to take it. 

Zobel boys were a mystery to the rest of us, that was the attraction to them. They were embraced in this perfectly crafted adoration but God knows they didn't deserve it. They kept their business tight under wraps unless it was to show off and because of that, I didn't know the ins and outs of these people's lives. I truly was stumped about where to even start. 

I turned to ask Deshawn what he thought when a boy fell at my feet in a heap of long limbs and thick, black hair that splayed across the stone walkway. He erupted in laughter before groaning with pain. 

"Oh my God, Taron." Deshawn chuckled. 

The ghost boy crouched in front of the stranger who was sprawled out on his back with a giddy smile. He was obviously drunk as he reached his long arm to the sky above. 

I walked forward until I was looking over him, blocking his sight of the moon above. He smirked. "I died, didn't I? And you're the angel who has come to take me away. Oh beautiful soul, leave me be. Please allow me another chance, angel," he cried out to me. 

I frowned and flickered my eyes to Deshawn who barely contained the laughter that bubbled from his lips. 

Taron Rios, Deshawn's best friend, lifted himself into a seated position with a groan. He rubbed at his temples and uttered curses under his breath while I reluctantly crouched in front of him. If he was Deshawn's best friend then it was reasonable to believe he could point me in the right direction. 

I waited while he sorted himself out. Taron patted down his midnight black hair until it was safely settled into that soft middle pattern he was known for. Then, he looked up at me with soft blue eyes that had girls drooling. 

His pale arm lifted so that his fingers could trail the harsh line of my jaw. His smile widened. 

"What are you doing?" I asked evenly. 

"Reniella De Vega." He smiled before his finger stopped at my chin where he pulled it down for me to meet his eyes. 

"Taron Rios," I replied. His pale face beamed at me and though we'd never spoken, I could read him like a book. The cold skin of his thumb swabbed over my chin lightly leaving the ghost of tingles in its wake before he brought his hands back to his lap. 

"You know, Reniella, my name means God of Thunder." He bragged proudly, puffing out his chest slightly and holding his hands out as though the words were written in lights above us. "It's Welsh, comes from the God Taranis." 

I scoffed at what he said. "Is that how you impress all the girls?" 

"Are you impressed yet?" He smirked. 

He continued talking nonsense when I didn't bother answering him. "I'm glad you made it to my party."

"It's your party?"

"Of course!" He grinned again. "Do you want to go swimming? I was just headed to the beach before I fell but I'm glad I fell now, otherwise I wouldn't have gotten the chance to speak to you." Taron rose to his feet. 

He was a tall boy with long, skinny limbs. His black hair was the stark contrast to his pale skin and his pale skin a contrast to his bright eyes. It seemed that wherever you looked on this canvas of a boy, there was a new detail. 

I followed his lead and stood too. I wasn't surprised to see the height difference, though I wasn't short he was ridiculously tall. 

"I don't think you should go swimming, Taron. You're too drunk for that," I said. 

He yawned and scrunched up his nose adorably.

"Okay," he replied. Taron wrapped an arm around my shoulders and leaned into my side for support as I practically carried him to the front door. All I could feel were the bones from under his skin as they poked at me through his shirt. Deshawn was only observing with a propped brow.

"Help," I squeaked to Deshawn as I struggled under Taron's weight. He wouldn't have been so heavy if it weren't for the height. It didn't help that I had practically no muscle either.

With an amused smile, Deshawn went to the other side of Taron and shared some of the weight. I watched him carefully as he breathed heavily to hold his friend up. From the veins that popped out from his temples, you could've sworn Taron weighed more than a car. Considering that just this morning a pillow flew straight through his stomach, he handled his friend well.