Uh, Excuse Me? Mr. Demon? Are You Sure This Is HEAVEN? 'Cause It Feels More Like HELL. (excerpt 2)

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(Excerpt of... Uh, Excuse Me? Mr. Demon? Are You Sure This Is HEAVEN? 'Cause It Feels More Like HELL. excerpt 2 by: Faerie_Writer)

{Note: The boy is NOT a vampire. This is NOT a vampire story... well there will be vampires eventually... maybe. I dunno. This was just for fun real quick anyways, so I might never write on this again... lol}

He wasn't supposed to be here.

No, the handsome black haired boy with the piercing and shockingly emerald green eyes that stood in the entrance hall of my home wasn't supposed to be here. Though in truth, he looked like he was dressed for nothing short of a party like the one my parents were hosting.

His hair was slicked back, James bond style, and he was wearing a black tux, that looked shockingly dark against his snow-white skin.

His skin was such a blinding color of white too, like it never saw the sun. Though I doubt that, because his muscles were large in a way that must have required hours of working out.

I watched him from my perch on the second floor, leaning ever so carefully over the railing that lined the walkway above the first floor, trying to get as far as I could to see him, and not fall over.

Though falling over wasn't my only risk, there was the whole thing that I could get caught too, but years of experience of spying on my parent's dinner guests had made me a master of concealment.

Whether the guests knew it or not, I had been the uninvited dinner guest who showed up to every dinner, ball, or party that ever happened here at 16023 Fireside Lane. I was the fly on the wall to all their conversations, I knew just as much as, if not more than, they did.

Which is why I knew the boy didn't belong here.

The chaffers had not once discussed the fancy car he must drive, nor had any of the other female guests my age commented on his looks. It was as if he wasn't there, and this was usually how the guests always treated an outsider.

To them, the boy was below them, like I was. Because though I was the daughter of this largely rich family, I had refused to marry another rich couples son, Peter Tyson, and for it had been shunned.

Though why should I have to marry Peter? I was only 16 for goodness sakes! Also, there were plenty of other beautiful girls my age who would love to be his, girls much prettier than I. This fact was proven as I watched them sway slowly to the music, the carefully done curls bobbing to the twinkling melody.

A bit of bile rose in my throat. Why should they be allowed to dance, and flirt, and feast, in MY home when I wasn't even allowed to do so?

I stiffened as I saw a few girls break off from the dancing group and go join the other group of girls that was now flirting with Peter, and felt the hatred that rolled off them. All of it aimed at me of course, the girl that could marry their idol, but refused.

It was funny, how much I longed to be them, and how much they longed to be me. If only there was a way for us to switch places.

I let out a sigh and observed as one of the girl's flirting with Peter slid her gaze over to near where I was, and it took me a moment to realize she was staring not at me, but at the boy.

Her shinning eyes dulled and narrowed, her perfectly sculpted face squishing together in confusion, "What idiot brings a little kid to a party like this?" she asked with a snotty attitude.

I had to stifle a laugh. The boy had to be at least seventeen, far older than her or I. To call him a little boy was like saying she was an old lady, and absolutely ridiculous.

Another one of the girls walked over to where the boy was, and tilted her head downward so it appeared to me like she was looking at his shoes, and asked, "Are you lost?"

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