A Bad Boy in my life

Eighteen

I stood before the mirror, scrutinizing my reflection as I delicately adjusted the vibrant bikini on my lithe frame. The decision to attend this party is weighing on me, and I contemplate the idea of not going. However, when Ken mentioned that he's going, I couldn't resist the opportunity to fit in and feel included.

A mere five minutes ago, a message from Adam flashed on my phone, revealing his house's location in the same prestigious condo as the Stirlings—just a stone's throw away. Each day, as I made my way to school, I couldn't help but admire the sheer magnificence of his residence. Its grandeur spoke volumes—money flowed in abundance, like a never-ending cascade. How did a guy like him extend an invitation to someone like me? We were complete strangers, after all. And the most perplexing question of all: how did he even know my name? It was impossible not to harbor suspicions of ulterior motives.

"Mum, I'm going," I declared, striding through the opulent living room where she directed a newly hired employee.

Her response was swift, brimming with skepticism. "You better return by five, young lady. Fail to do so, and your social life will cease until graduation."

Persuading my mother to grant me permission was akin to navigating a treacherous labyrinth. Compassion wasn't her strong suit, and the scars of the Brashier incident from last year, divulged in vivid detail by my father, hadn't faded from her memory. Understandably, trust came at a premium, and she had no qualms about making that abundantly clear.

A sigh escaped my lips—an exhalation of exasperation and resignation, bundled into one.

Stepping out of the house, a conspicuous absence caught my attention—Maxon's prized motorcycle was conspicuously absent from its usual spot. He hadn't returned home since our shared biology class earlier that day. It was as if he had evaporated into thin air, a recurring enigma that seemed to define him.

***

Approaching the designated location, a cacophony of music assaulted my ears, resounding even beyond the walls of the extravagant house. The front door stood ajar, a blatant invitation for any passerby to join the revelry within.

Drawn by the symphony of laughter and beats, I ventured toward the pool area, my eyes eagerly scanning the sea of exuberant teenagers. Faces blurred together, blending into a frenzy of youthful jubilation, as if they were desperate to capture every fleeting moment of life.

"Boo!" A surge of adrenaline coursed through my veins as Adam's sudden presence jolted me, his touch grazing my waist with an unwarranted familiarity.

Suppressing the instinct to retaliate, I mustered a wry smile. Had I been a fraction less alert, my hand would have found solace in meeting his cheek.

"I'm glad you came" he purred, his hand lingering upon me.

A polite smile stretched across my lips, but failed to illuminate the depths of my eyes, a facade veiling my true emotions. Swiftly sidestepping his touch, I created an invisible chasm between us.

"Your house is a masterpiece," I complimented, awaiting the customary expression of gratitude.

Instead, his chest swelled with unbridled pride, a testament to his privileged existence.

"Do you live nearby?" His voice dripped with curiosity.

I paused, a delicate balance teetering on the precipice of revelation. Should I disclose my connection to Maxon Stirling, our shared dwelling hidden behind a veneer of anonymity?

"Yes... Just a few streets away," I responded, well aware that assumptions of shared social standing would ensue. After all, the homes within this elite enclave mirrored one another, creating the illusion of equality.