Though Deshawn wasn't truly there, he could touch and hold stuff from our world. Taron's weight was shared between the crazy girl and the ghost of his best friend but he had no idea. It was unsettling. 

Together, the three of us walked through the front door where I was momentarily speechless at the interior. Just like every other Zobel boy house, it was large with winding staircases, expensive decorations, and designer wallpaper. The foyer alone was probably bigger than my whole house and led straight to the glass doors on the other side where more people danced in the garden. The smell of various alcoholic drinks and smoke clung to the air like a disease and groups of people came and went through. 

Girls idled on the staircase, boys screamed from the pool outside and the music pierced my eardrums. 

Taron leaned down and pressed his nose into my hair to whisper in my ear. A shiver erupted through my body at the gesture. "This party is sort of a commemoration to the king - Deshawn. Deshawn Cervantes. You found his body, didn't you? Here, let me show you what he looked like without, you know, being dead."

Taron took my hand in his and finally stopped leaning against me. He weaved us through the crowd of intoxicated teenagers as they danced against one another and only stopped when we arrived at the dimly lit corridor tucked away from everyone else. It was secluded and the music only buzzed now, letting our voices pick up against the noise. 

The corridor led to a dead-end but the walls were lined with photographs. Some were old while others were new. Each one is perfectly placed in golden frames that encapsulated the memories beautifully. There weren't many photos in my house, we didn't have enough family for that. But it seemed that Taron had countless people he needed to remember. 

We stopped at the end where one picture caught my eye. The lanky boy watched me as I inspected it carefully. It looked new as Taron stood there proudly, pressed into ink. His hair looked the same, his eyes bright and it could have been taken yesterday if not for the boy next to him, full of life. 

Deshawn stood proudly with an arm slung around Taron and the other clutched the gold medal strung loosely around his neck. Taron copied the actions but his medal was a dazzling silver. They stood in swim trunks as their hair dripped from the water they'd just escaped and a stretched pool of gleaming blue water rippled behind them. 

I couldn't help but stare at Deshawn. He looked a lot different in the picture than he did sitting in the corner of my room. The Deshawn I knew was unsure of himself, beginning to walk and reaching out desperately to loose strings

This Deshawn, however, radiated confidence and charisma. With his big grin that could light up a room and tight grip on reality, this was the Deshawn that had slipped away when I found him bleeding on the floor that night.

"Deshawn was my best mate. I don't think anyone could've predicted what happened," Taron admitted in a small voice. 

"I'm sorry," I said honestly and tucked my hair behind my ears. 

He shrugged. "Deshawn loved a good party so that's why I decided to hold one tonight. People have told me it's disrespectful and shit but I know he would've loved it." 

"Is that so?" I drawled out and looked to the corner of my eye at Deshawn for confirmation. He wasn't listening, though. He stared at the picture of him on the wall with an open-mouthed expression. 

"Who do you think killed him?" I asked abruptly. Taron's eyes widened momentarily and he reached to scratch the back of his neck - almost awkwardly. The air was tense and his blue eyes flashed to anywhere but me as he thought of his answer. 

"He was barely my best friend," Deshawn stated beside me in a rush of cold wind. "He and I went swimming together, we were close enough. But, we were never really best friends. He doesn't care about me or the killer or any of that, even if it looks like it. The kid took drama for GCSE, he knows what he's doing." 

"Well, I suppose I can think of a few people," Taron began. He had his back to the wall and craned his neck down to meet my eyes. "Zobel is a sour place. If you throw a bunch of teenage boys in the same school who are all used to getting their own ways, you'll end up with a lot of potential killers. But, few of those have a real motive against Deshawn. He was the golden boy after all." 

The last sentence came out bitterly as he silently spat on his friend's grave. I leaned in closer to listen and he watched with a smirk before capturing a strand of my brown hair in between his fingertips. Taron absentmindedly rolled it around for a moment before he leaned against the wall behind him, pulling me along from my waist and flush against his body.

Instantly, my body tensed against his touch. I wasn't here tonight to mess around but from the look that sparkled in his eyes, that's exactly what he was here for. I had forgotten that I was with a Zobel boy, hidden in the corner of his house; because of that, I had fallen behind. If I wanted anything, I'd have to take advantage of people to get it. 

So, when he let go of my hair and trailed his finger slowly from my shoulder and down to my waist; I let him. I let him think he had control of the situation while pushed against the wall and that quite possibly, he had a chance. I placed a hand to his chest and felt his heart as it raced under his ribs. I waited for him to continue.