@mayabrennanâ
After a few months under a self-assigned house arrest, Xander had thought he could go right back to his life how it had been. But it turned out it wasnât that easy. It turned out that he was more haunted now than he had ever been, not even because of the shades.
No, now with every drink he felt like he was putting himself in a position to send someone to a grave again. Few knew what he had done, knew about the accident with Clark. He wanted it to stay that way, wanted to forge himself. But the alcohol tasted bitter in a way it never had before, even as he felt himself getting drunker.
When he felt someone sit next to him on the small couch, the house party still buzzing with liveliness, he looked over at the girl and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand even though there was no mess. âCan I help you?â He heard the slur of his words and felt a twist in his gut that made him both want to go home and drink faster.
Maya had been flirting with a guy for nearly half an hour in Letheâs Town Hall before he invited her to an âimpromptuâ party on the following night, starting around 11PM. She had played with her hair a little bit longer, smiled doelike up at the man--Tom--and nodded slightly, waving her hand as he left the building. Finally, some action.
It was now the following night, or rather morning, and Maya had a red solo cup propped against her lower lip, nursing it slowly. She had been following the actions of one Alexander Walsh for the last hour or so, turning down all coquetry aimed her way just so she could eye the infamous Walsh twin. Finally, once she had gained enough composure and liquid courage, she waltzed up to the man and sat next to him.
His voice was tender and raw before he swallowed some more alcohol and Maya smiled at the man. âYouâre Alexander Walsh, yeah? Letheâs very own Evel Knievel. Youâve been to more parties than have even been hosted in the last 20 years. You party hard and live life to its fullest... Youâre really... youâre really something,â she muttered, taking in the sight of him. He wasnât beautiful by any means, rather average but in a handsome sort of way. Not overly rugged or masculine, nor effeminate in any way. She had seen one or two yearbook photographs of the Walsh twins during her short stay in Lethe so far, but seeing the man in person was something else altogether. He had grown into a man, that much was true.













