come to brazil: corbyn besson

𝒖𝒏𝒐; 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒚.

"Ronnie!" Bea shouted, "Ronnie, are you done yet?"

"I told you, I'm not going!" I shouted back, putting my headphones back in. Bea burst in the room and strode towards me. 

"Ronnie!" Bea took the headphones out of my ears. When she was mad, her Spanish accent took over her American one, I smirked to myself. I have been living in LA for almost a year, Bea had been living here for two. Although, tomorrow I was moving to live with my abuela, in Brazil.

Papá and mamá were back in Cuba, my birthplace. I had promised them I would move back, they would just have to give me a year with abuela, she could barely take care of herself. Well, she thought she could. Which somehow made me worry more. I hated LA, I couldn't wait to get out of it. It was the reason why I was not going to that dammed party.

"I told you, I'm not going," I repeated. 

"Ronn-ie." If Bea broke down your name, you'd better hope it wasn't yours. But being cousins with her since I was born, I had stopped being scared years ago. 

"Be-a." I stuck my tongue out at her.

"Come on! It's a party! In. The. Hills!" Bea threw her arms up.

"I. Don't. Care." I shot back. 

"They'll be a bunch of hot guys there." Bea sat down next to me.

"I don't care," I repeated. 

"What is it gonna take for you to go?" Bea sighed. 

"Nothing, because I'm not going," I said for what seemed the millionth time. 

"Ronnie!" Bea flopped down on my bed, "You're going to this party."

"No, I'm not." I shook my head.

"Ronnie, please." Bea slid onto the floor and begged. I looked at her for a long time, chewing my tongue. I wasn't going to see her for another year, at the least. As much as a puta she could be, she was family. I sighed a long sigh.

"Fine." I rolled my eyes and Bea jumped up with excitement. 

"I get to choose what you wear!" She smiled, running into her room, knowing dammed well there'd be nothing revealing in my wardrobe.

"Nothing that displays too much, please!" I shouted to her.

"What? Why?" Bea said, "You have an amazing figure!" She came back in with several dresses. I just rolled my eyes, so she elaborated, "You've got a nice ass, small waist-,"

"Yadda yadda." I waved her off.

"Just try these on, please?" Bea stuck out her bottom lip.

"Whatever." I sighed.

Beatrice Rivera. Keep the Spanish surname and give her an American first name. It made no sense. Well, I guess she was only half-Spanish, she looked fully though. She had long, wavy dark brown hair, like mine, thick eyelashes, like mine, and an olive coloured skin tone, like me. 

We weren't that dissimilar looks-wise, but when it came to personality, we couldn't be more different.

I ended up somehow leaving Bea's apartment in a small black dress and trainers, leaving my hair natural and draping over my shoulders. As the uber drove nearer and nearer to our destination, my palms began to grow sweaty and my heart started to beat faster and faster.

Bea noticed my nerves and took my hand in hers,

"Hey, it's gonna be fun, ok?" Bea assured, she met my eyes and gave me a sympathetic smile. "Just let loose a bit."

Just when I thought she was actually going to be nice, and then she told me to "let loose" like I hadn't heard that before. 

"Ok." I shrugged, looking out the window. We pulled up at the mansion, the sky an inky black and music and shouts coming from inside. We got out of the uber and I asked Bea, "How did you even get us invites?"

"I have my ways." Bea shrugged, linking arms with me. "Come on, let's go." We had barely approached the door when one of the many girls outside neared us.

"Bea!" She squealed, hugging her tightly, unlinking mine and Bea's arms. I crossed my arms across my chest, unsure of what to do.

"Sofia!" Bea grinned. She had almost forgotten I was there, she turned to me. "Can you grab us some drinks? I'll be inside in like two seconds." She assured.

"In there?" I pointed to the mansion, "By myself?"

"You'll be fine." Bea nodded. She had walked off with Sofia before I could protest. I sighed before sucking it up and walking through the large doors. 

𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒃𝒚𝒏'𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒗.

I took a sip at my drink, barely being able to hear my own thoughts over the loud music. 

"I'm so bored," I shouted to Zach, who stood beside me.

"Same." He shouted back. I searched the room to see where the other's were. Jack was passed out on one of the couches, an empty bottle of tequila in his limp hand. Jonah was on the balcony behind us, through the large window talking to a girl. Daniel was nowhere to be seen. 

"Where's Daniel?" I asked.

"I don't know." Zach shrugged, "I'm gonna go find him." 

"No, no, Zach. Don't leave me-," But Zach was already weaving his way through the crowd, "Alone." I finished with a sigh. I downed the last of my drink and made my way to the bar for a refill. 

"What drink?" The bartender asked.

"Whatever." I shrugged, "Anything with  alcohol." He didn't ask for ID, of course. It was a party in The Hills, the bartender was probably drunker than half the guests. He probably wasn't even a real bartender, he sure didn't dress like one.

While the bartender was pouring anything he wanted into my glass, I scanned the party once more, trying to look out for Daniel. My eyes came across the doors opening and my jaw dropped as a stunning girl, her skin the colour of olive, long, dark, wavy hair draped over her shoulders and a worried expression on her face, walked through the door. Beautiful was an understatement.

I snapped my jaw shut and straightened my posture as I realised she was walking towards the bar.

"Um, a vodka, please." She said, unsurely. "And a gin and tonic, for me, please." She reached inside her purse and raised an eyebrow when the bartender didn't ask for her ID. She looked relieved.

"They never ask." I shook my head. She looked up at me as if noticing me for the first time. "It's useful sometimes. I mean, you're... what?"

"Seventeen." She answered, "Almost eighteen." She hardly made eye contact.

"I'm twenty." I said, even though she didn't ask, "I gotta be twenty-one to consume it here, though." I shrugged, "Not like that stops any of us." 

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆. 
𝒚𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒚 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒘𝒆'𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈, "𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒛𝒊𝒍". 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈. 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒅:

"𝑾𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒖𝒑 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒚𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆
𝑺𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒏' 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆"