pretty pretense (chaennie)

I.

"Just to give you a head start. Don't tolerate people around here too much." Her words scrambled Jennie again, but she thought generous of her nonetheless. "Thanks, I guess..."

...

It was five in the afternoon. Jennie just got home and felt the exhaustion hurting her back as she crashes to bed.

The first day of school was dragging. The unnecessary competitive atmosphere in the campus burned her skin from the inside. Yet she was glad that she took the advice from that stranger on the rooftop. It somehow spared her from all the small talk that her curious mates always initiated in every second it went quiet.

"Fix up your dress now. We don't want to be late for this party, darling." Her mother who was holding her Dad's tuxedo for the night prompted by the doorstep. She didn't even notice that she left the door open. She gave a quick nod. Her mother proceeds to finish preparing while the latter did not felt the rush given.

Jennie sighs to herself as her eyes divert to the white ceiling above. Staring at it blankly in hopes of getting the peace of mind she has been craving for after they left Itaewon.

This elite party will introduce her to her Dad's new found friends and acquaintances. She knows she needed to be amiable to establish good connections and impressions for her Father. She was good at it, of course.

Calm, poised, and fixated with grace. Jennie didn't need help to look and be expensive. It even felt like she was born to be in the high society. The indifference she expected to feel was dusted off by her new found fondness of the rich. I guess her Father was right, this wasn't so bad after all.

...

The bashful evening made Jennie shimmer amongst the crowd, even if she failed to acknowledge it, the ton never did. She was in a black long dress with petulant off-shoulders, her under layers sparkled in Swarovski crystals.

The beaut already made a fair share of introductions to the elite crowd. Her Father, as reliable as ever, handled the dreading talks about how she grew up, her hobbies, academics, and the excruciating judge of vanity. You ask how can a seventeen year old handle such scrutiny? It's the desperation of hiding one's self, of course. Better be judged by the surface than be unraveled naked by strangers.

And when everything was settled, Jennie had thoughts of getting alcohol in her system to loosen her reoccurring anxiety, but as she approached the bar counter, she was reminded of etiquette and how she shouldn't be craving whiskey at a young age of seventeen.

"New here?" A familiar voice made Jennie's chest heavy. Too quick of a change. She turns around and she meets the eyes of the new face she just met earlier this morning.

It was that tall blonde girl again. But this time she was in a silver tight dress, her almost pale chest and collarbones were exposed that it almost blinded the other. Jennie noticed the mole by her left shoulder and thought of it as a bookmark. Her presence disconcerted Jennie, especially when she's in contact with her. Just like now. But of course, she would never admit that out loud.

"It's you." The brunette couldn't help but part her lips in awe, "Again."

"Hm." The slow smirk forming from the side of the blonde's tender lips dilated the latter's eyes (too much), "I should say the same." Her response resonated the flick of confidence she had. Jennie wishes she could achieve that in a snap, but she's working on it.

The brunette was too fixated over the girl's aptitude that she was a moment too late to respond, so the blonde spoke again, "Drinks?" She offers subtlety.

"I'm seventeen." Jennie deadpans. It's not like she doesn't drink. She can chug a whole bottle of whiskey right now for all she cares. She just wants to be demure in front of an intimidation she cannot handle, in which the tall blonde had. Hoping she would like her more, in whatever way.