Ace of Hearts

12| ra ra rasputin

Nyara finds Rye in the corner almost five minutes into the party. I'm clutching a colored cup of alcohol, careful not to have filled it further than I can stomach.

I feel the unexpected feeling of braids that hit me in the face when Nyara snaps her head over towards Rye, moved by the sound of his voice. He's standing alone, except for a sophomore that's talking to him about something that seems to be boring him.

I watch in anticipation as Nyara struts up to him, confident and poised. His bored blue eyes light up as soon as he sees her approaching.

That's my girl, I think, watching proudly as Rye starts to converse with her and as the sophomore walks away disappointedly.

Now... what to do when you're alone at one of these things?

I look out into the scene, and I recognize the girls dancing to be the same ones from last time.

    so I know they won't mind if I join again. I quickly finish the rest of my drink, and I make a move to join them in the midst of their music.

"Hey, girl!" They call.

I'm not really good at dancing, but I have gained enough experience through using the Wii with Anson every Friday night for like two years straight. Just Dance was my major hobby.

I'm cracking out my Rasputin dance moves, hoping no one notices that they don't exactly fit the vibe of the trap remix that's playing, when a guy speaks up behind me.

"Is that the wii dance?"

I turn around, seeing a guy from the football team. He still wears his jersey.

He's not bad looking. Though he's built like a block and his head is too squarish, his features are defined like granite in a striking way.

I offer a smile. "Brownie points if you can name it!"

"Uh... I don't know. Something with an r?"

"Rasputin." I confirm. He laughs, and I stop dancing to talk to him.

"What's your name?" He narrows brown eyes at me.

"Bryn." I smile.

"Hi. I'm Greg." He introduces himself, "I know. Major old man name."

Yeah... majorly.

"No, it makes me think of Greg Heffley." I try to make him feel better.

"Oh," he nods, not ever thinking of that before.

"Did you read that series growing up?"

"Yeah. I used to love reading."

"Used to?" I pretend to be hurt. I put a hand on my chest dramatically.

"I don't have time these days!" He tries to claim. I click my tongue.

"Make time." I walk away from the music, Greg follows me to a quieter spot in the house.

"You're pretty. Have you had a drink?"

"Yeah," I say, "but I could use another one."

We walk over to the kitchen together, each of us make ourselves a refreshment. I'm sipping cheap champagne someone brought from their parents' stash when Greg starts talking.

He's laying it on, pretty thick.

But, what girl doesn't like to be complimented?