Heterochromia ● a.i

13

(Dylan's P.O.V.)

I hate this party. It was nice at first, but Aubrey couldn't keep her damn mouth shut. She's always been the partier even though she doesn't seem like it when you first meet her. She won't drink in front of her parents or in public, but get her at a party and there is no stopping. I also hate this party because of truth or dare. I always pick truth because I will not be making out with someone, taking a shot, or stripping.

Aubrey is wearing nothing but a bra and a pair of underwear. Calum, I can clearly tell, is loving every bit of it. Calum is more drunk than when he first started and he's probably kissed fifteen people. Laith is mostly sober and has only taken a few shots and taken off her shirt. Michael is drunk off his ass, he's taken more shots and has felt up and sucked more girls than I thought possible. Luke has had a few drinks and hasn't stopped glaring at me since my 'fucking' comment. He has also kissed a few girls and gone up to someone's room, making some girl turn pale to crimson red within three minutes. Ashton has kissed four girls and done about three shots. He's also asked me a question which I didn't want to answer worth shit, I'm just glad he didn't push me about how or who with like Laith did to him.

Then there's me. Sitting in this big ass circle with people I hate, more than likely the only person sober. After Luke takes another shot and is dared to finger me, I stand up, spit in the darer's face, and walk outside.

It's cold and I don't have a coat. I could use a cigarette right now. Wow, I'm just fucking my life up aren't I? Drinking when I'm depressed, and smoking when I'm stressed. Logic. I quickly walk in, find my coat, and walk back outside to my car. I put the key in the ignition and blast the heat. I drive to the nearest gas station and ask for a pack of cigarettes.

The clerk eyes me suspiciously, "let me see some ID."

I roll my eyes, "forget i- wait," I reach into my wallet and pull out my license. It's my eighteenth birthday.

I proudly hand him my license and he takes it in his hand, raising an eyebrow, "you're ending your life as soon as it's legal, eh?"

My face loses all emotion, and I snatch the card back from him, "give me the damn pack, at least I'm not working in a gas station."

He raises his eyebrows and does as instructed, "you're right. That'll be five-sixteen."

I roll my eyes again and give him six dollars. I take my change and the pack and head outside. I get in my car and drive back to Laith's. I'm not going to drive in my car and smoke. Marcus would notice, tell my mom, and I would never be allowed to drive or go out ever again.

Once at Laith's, I hop out of my car, lock the doors, walk to the rear of my car, pull out my lighter, and light a cigarette. The nicotine immediately calming me with the first huff. I notice other people smoking on the curb, people I don't know. I just lean on the back of my car and let relaxation hit.

"Dylan?" I hear someone call from the house.

I lower my second cigarette and turn around. Ashton is buttoning his coat and walking toward me. I take a deep breath and roll my eyes, taking another puff. He walks up next to me, and I stare across the street at the snowy scenery. Ashton leans on my car and stares out too.

"I don't mean to bombard you or anything, but it's been two hours since midnight, so it's officially your birthday. Happy birthday," I can hear his smile.

A small smile tugs on my lips and I raise the cigarette to my lips, taking a breath, then releasing, "thank you."

He's smiling even wider now, "you're welcome. I didn't know you smoked."

I shrug, "yeah, I've done it for, psh, two years now."

"What do you mean by 'psh'?"

"I had my first cigarette on my sixteenth birthday," I half smile at the memory, looking down at our feet in the snow.