Yes, this is based off of a One Direction song. When I hear music I tend to write little stories...
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I swish around the golden essence that lies in my cup. Small bubbles protrude from the surface, surrounding the red plastic perimeter. When I should be having fun, I’m just worrying. Why isn’t she here yet? Does she even know my address?
“Can’t even enjoy your own last minute party, Drew?” Kylie slinks up by my side and slides a warm arm around my waist. Her plastic cup swishes with cheap beer that I had bought a few hours ago too.
“What makes you think that I’m not
enjoying myself?” I ask her, smiling down with a large all toothed smile. She looks up at me, her blonde bangs tilting slightly off of her forehead, revealing a huge pimple. Nice job trying to cover that up Kylie, I think to myself.
“You’re sulking, what’s the matter?” she asks me, inching closer and closer.
She’s only been here a year, coming into Reno High as a sophomore. Some people say that it was her ‘start over’ because at her old school she wasn’t the prettiest. Now she’s… well, not ugly that’s for sure. She’s confident, gorgeous, and has jumped into my game in no less than her junior year.
That’s all this is, a game. Maybe Kylie doesn’t or hasn’t realized it yet, but she is just another girl that I will kiss at just another party.
“I’m just tired; planning a quick party is harder than movies make it look.” I wink at her and she smiles, showing off her white straight teeth. She’s good at this game, but not as good as Amanda. At least Amanda is, or at least pretends to be, hard to get. If I were to ask Kylie if she wanted to sleep with me her clothes would be off in a Nano second. Amanda would slap my face if I asked her out of nowhere, and maybe if it weren’t out of nowhere she would still hesitate.
“You’re so funny.” She giggles some more, making me smile. How idiotic is this girl, that joke wasn’t even that funny.
My arm falls over her shoulder, hers slides behind my waist tighter and her fingers twirl themselves on my belt loops near my hipbone. Our free hands hold our beers that slosh with the beat of the music. People dance in late-celebration of the last day of summer, or maybe they’re celebrating the first day of school. Who knows anymore?
“Want to dance?” Kylie asks me, letting go of my waist and turns to face me. Not an inch separates us, not a centimeter, or even millimeter, not even air. She is suction cupped onto me, unbreakable.
“Sure.” I say, smiling down at her hopeful eyes. We set our drinks down on my mother’s mahogany coffee table that I had pushed to the side earlier. I swear I can hear her yell at me all the way from Boston: “Drew Jeered!!!!! What do you think you’re doing? Drinking beer without putting down a freaking coaster?!!!” Yes, she would say something like that.
I can only wonder what my dad would say, because I haven’t seen him in years.
Only now do I notice what Kylie is wearing, as I willingly let my hands course the side of her skin tight baby blue dress. High heels swirl around her manicured toes and perfect feet. I’m surprised I didn’t notice her growth, because she is usually a foot smaller than me, and now my eyes only have to travel down a few inches.
It kind of bothers me that she’s so dressed up; because I’m nowhere close to her standards. My hoodie is loose and baggy and my pants are wrinkled as usual. I feel out of place, at my own party.
Maybe Kylie sensed that, because once we start dancing she tries to make me feel right at home.
I’m right at home, not at Drew’s stupid party, or at the movies with Tasha (which she suggested could be our celebration of becoming juniors). My bed seems like the best place to be. It’s just comfortable, that’s all I need. That’s all I want!
If I didn’t I wouldn’t be in baggy non-flattering sweats or my raggedy gray tank top that’s falling apart string by stray string. If Natasha saw me she would be in complete shock. “That’s not on your fashion diet!” she would screech, pointing at my hideous outfit. I hate how she calls it that, a ‘fashion diet’. Makeover is a better way to put it then fashion diet. Diet, that’s what I can’t stand. My change in clothes isn’t going to help thin the chunkiness that I (like every other girl) see in my thighs. So why relate it to food?!
Lord knows what she would say if she saw me exactly like I am right now. Not only is my outfit ‘cheating in my diet’ but so is my retainer and glasses combo.
“Pick one or the other at night.” She told me once while giving me all these helpful tips on looks. “You don’t know who could show up at your door out of nowhere.”
Tasha doesn’t understand these things, because she doesn’t know what it’s like to have to wear a retainer to bed and want to watch a T.V. show at the same time. She just doesn’t understand that I can’t be a picture perfect image all the time and that nobody is going to knock on my door at ten at night.
Somewhere in the middle of my blanking out, thinking about how Natasha changed me so much, Drew’s name ambled across my mind. His smooth skin image in my mind makes me smile which causes the plastic of the retainer to cut into my gums a touch more.
“You will have fun.”
“Yes I will see you…” his words ring into my mind.
I wipe my eyes and take off of my glasses to return them to their rightful place on my nightstand.
Drew doesn’t even remember. Who knows, maybe I was the first girl he ever played or showed ignorance to, and he just forgot about me to move onto his next game. I consider this. Am I back in his game now? I’m not sure, but if I am I do know one thing. This time I will win and Drew WILL remember me.
Dancing with Kylie made everything a little bit better. Her grinding made my smile widen, even though I’m sure it was only because she was drunk and slipped a few times. Nothing like a hammered blonde girl falling while dancing!
My mind still swerves back to Amanda every now and then. I guess tomorrow I will just have to ask her why she didn’t show up. I bet the game will be worth the agonizing truth that she probably would rather sleep then party with me, dance with me. Hey! What really matters is that by the next time my mom is out of town, I WILL persuade Amanda to come. I WILL win this game.