The Seat Exchange

Chapter 6

Ten minutes after the thumping began, I made my way out the door with a low simmering rage. Alex had the sense to remind me that I still looked like her on my first attempt out the door. After a quick shuffle into my own clothes and getting rid of the extra weight on my head the door of our townhome smacked shut behind me. It would have been a more impressive sound if it hadn't been drowned out by the heavy bass coming from next door. No other neighbours stuck their heads out of the door. Sometimes I wondered if we were the only ones on the block bothered by all the noise.

I stalked over to the Hockey House, my footsteps echoing across the short stretch of pavement. There wasn't a sign of anyone out on the front lawn, but I could only imagine what was going on inside that house.

With a firm rap I knocked on their door, my heart pounding in time with the music. I tapped my foot against the concrete beneath my sneaker, arms wrapped around my chest. Seconds ticked by until the song changed to the next. Raising my fist I banged a little harder this time—hoping someone would hear me over the noise.

I was about to knock a third time when the door creaked open. Booker leaned against the doorframe with a familiar smirk on his lips. The sweatpants he sported earlier had been switched out with a pair of dark wash jeans and his tousled waves were pinned back in the same hat that he wore to class earlier.

I hated every part of myself for noticing.

"Hey neighbour," he said, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement. "Did you finally decide to join in on the fun?"

Narrowing my eyes I brought my chin up to meet his gaze. "No," I said, my voice clipped. "I want you to keep it down. The music is too loud."

"Sorry." Booker cupped his hand behind his ear. "What was that?"

I sucked in a breath, ready to repeat myself when Booker cracked a grin. He chuckled, his gaze drifting over his shoulder to the small crowd of people behind him before acknowledging me again. It was like a mini concert worth of people in the living room. "Yeah, I don't know if I can do anything about the music. Don't want to bring down the vibes before the party even picks up, you know?"

"Well, if you don't lower it I'm really going to kill the vibe by putting in a noise complaint."

Booker brought a hand to his chest. "Charlie, Charlie, Charlie. You'd really call the cops on me?" The whites of his teeth were blinding. "I'm hurt. I thought we were just becoming friends."

"What gave you that grossly incorrect impression?"

"You know..." He shrugged his shoulders. "All those times I stop by to say hi."

I rolled my eyes. "The fact that you even think that would make us friends is nauseating."

He cocked his head, regarding me as if I had said the funniest thing he had heard all day. "One day you'll change your mind about me."

I mimicked his movement. "Maybe when you grow up and stop throwing ragers at all hours of the day."

His eyes gleamed, a playful smile tugging on the corner of his lips. I could understand how people like my sister could find him charming. But, to me, that smile was like nails on a chalkboard.

I heaved a sigh. "Just lower it before I call the cops."

Another chuckle rumbled through Booker. "The police chief's son is here, doing body shots off some sorority girl. I don't think his father's going to be too worried about noise complaints."

The simmering anger I had on the way over there began to boil over. This was the reason why I hated guys like Booker Gauthier. Cocky and arrogant—acted as if the world revolved around them.