The Girlfriend Experience

Chapter 17: All boys are slaves

Ethan

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If I had to take a wild guess I’d say that I’ve attended at least thirty parties in my high school career, out of those possible thirty, I’ve gracefully exited two.

See here’s the thing, here’s what they don’t tell you when you’re a happy little freshman ready to rage like a senior; every party is essentially the same as the years go by. It’s always the same people, the same crappy food, same alcohol, same shitty music and the same scenarios. There are two types of people at a party:

The bad kids that are upstairs smoking weed and having sex The slightly good kids that are downstairs drinking and dancing pretending not to give a fuck.

I didn’t know what to expect at the Heather Clark party.

We arrive at the party at around eight and it’s still bright outside. Privilege teenagers are milling around in a well-appointed townhome, dancing and talking as a DJ spins some tunes. The first thing I notice is the lack of attendees. The second thing I notice is how nice everyone is dressed. I should have anticipated that factor when I picked Rhiannon up this afternoon to find her in a black jumpsuit that’s cutout in all the right places and she was in super high heels. I don’t particularly think that I’m underdress (Matt made sure I wore all black) but I can’t shake this conscious feeling as I look around the room and see that everyone is wearing designer clothing.

We get a lot of stares. I mean, a beautiful popular girl shows up to a party with a nerd like me, we were bound to attract some stares. I’m going to admit I’m kind of scared of this crowd, I’m seeing people I’ve never seen before and the people that I do recognize looks like they want to hang me and sacrifice me to the birthday girl. Rhiannon looks absolutely fearless though. She has that look on her face as if she’s daring them to say something to us as we make our way further inside.

“Rhi, you’re here.” It’s Heather Clark. She’s squealing as she run towards Rhiannon with her minion trailing right behind her.

“Happy birthday, Heather.” Rhiannon smiles nicely and hugs them. “This is for you.” She hands her the nicely wrapped small box she was holding.

“Oooh,” they coo in unison. “A small box,” Heather adds.

“I’ll go put it in your room.” Beatrice volunteers. Heather gives it to her and she disappears.

The DJ is spinning a nice little tune, a mashup of Silversun Pickups and Metric. I bop my head do it absently. I’m so into the mix I’m not even paying attention to anything around me.

“Ethan, Ethan,” Rhiannon’s nudging my shoulders. When I gaze up at her I notice that all the colors on her face has been drained. She looks nauseous.

“He’s here.” She whispers.

“Who’s he__” then I see him. He’s standing a few inches away in front of us but he’s close enough to spot. He’s in a group of guys and girls talking and laughing at something stupid I presume. The mere sight of him makes me violently angry. I can’t lose my temper, I’m here with Rhiannon and I have to be a gentleman and take care of her.

“Let’s go to another room,” I take her hand and guide her out of the main room into a smaller area with less people.

“I can’t believe I’m hiding,” she says. She doesn’t look pleased, in fact, she looks livid, that’s two degrees past angry. “Can you please get me a drink? Something really strong.”

“Yeah,” I say not really knowing where they stash the alcohol. I beeline to the kitchen and hope to find some there and sure enough there’s a bottle of vodka on the kitchen island. I pour some in a red solo cup, filling up half the cup and head back to where I left Rhiannon. I don’t know if I’m getting the rooms mixed up but I could have sworn Rhiannon was standing in what appeared to be the lounge room a few seconds ago. I look around a few times and she’s not anywhere in sight. I go back to the main room, I don’t see her. I look everywhere it’s possible for me look, I even went to the balcony and yet I still can’t find her.