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Chapter Two: Birthday Bashes and Blondes

Chapter Two: Birthday Bashes and Blondes

 “Blondes are like white mice, you only find them in cages. They wouldn’t last long in nature. They’re too conspicuous.”   - Margaret Atwood

The cool air slapped me in the face as I entered the apartment complex; I was visiting my boyfriend, Miles Witchner.

Miles Witchner. He was twenty three, had a habit of running out to horse ranches when angry, and liked playing detective.

He was one of the poor chaps born to a strict, stereotypical upper-middle class family: slightly rich, strict, and cunning. He was born into the Witchner family, the founders of Witchner Construction Inc, even earning an interview with CNN and catching a brief filming at FOX NEWS.

The Witchners hated me. That was clear.

With the fresh months of dating, the Witchners were all smiles, sharing cookies, and even discussing about politics about Napoleon County.

Then, something twitched. Maybe they found out about me hooking up with Jared Deschunx, the German exchange student, who also slapped me four joints of weed when I was seventeen. Or they thought my mother was fake. What ever it was, they started sniffing when I got in, as if I was a bad smell; they’d furrow their eyebrows and scowl when they saw me. Even Miles’s little sister, Gracie--who was fourteen--mumbled, “Devil child, yes she is.”

Miles’s parents fixed up an apartment for him at Star Alliance, the lush, funky neighborhood filled with young rich people whose parents kicked them out the house. I was glad. Miles and I saw each other almost every day.

When I rammed on the door to tell Miles about my sweaty dream, he opened the door, a smirk on his lips, his hair wet and spring-black, effortlessly holding a cream and red envelope in his hand.

“When were you going to tell me about your bash?” He drawled. I furrowed my eyebrows, grabbing the invitation. It was elegantly tied with a ribbon, inky, fresh words on the envelope: open with care.

I raised a bushy eyebrow as I carefully untied the ribbon, though it was already open. A paper slipped out, and I caught it with my fingers.

You are gracefully invited to Napoleon’s Manor, December Twenty-Fifth, to celebrate the birth of Elizabeth (Ella) Anne Treslin.

The paper slipped from my long fingers.

“I told her not to go all out,” I mumbled. “How’d she afford Napoleon’s manor?” I wondered aloud.

“Mom and Dad said that your father was doing hard business. They’re getting rich each second,” Miles explained briefly. My face heatened. Napoleon’s Manor? But that’s still super expensive. Not even the Trumans, the richest family in our neighborhood, could afford it.

I stormed inside Miles’s apartment, collapsing on the couch.

“I had a dream,” I said finally, running my fingers through my hair. “A nightmare, more like.”

“About?” Miles pursued, sitting down next to me, wrapping his arm around me.

My head caved in and fell on his chest.

“I was a lab rat,” I mumbled, picking at a blonde strand. “I was bounded. They tested me, then started... injecting something. I felt the sharp needle pressed against my skin--”

“Easy there, poet,” Miles joked. I frowned. I wasn’t in the mood to joke.

“Listen. It’s a nightmare. Nightmares don’t come true,” He promised me softly. I ran my fingers through his now-damp hair. He sunk into the couch at this touch, and I smiled.

“Yes, I suppose. But...” I clamped my lips shut. “Are you going to the birthday bash?” I asked him instead, attempting to change the subject.

“Yeah. And my parents will be, too--to judge you, more like.”

I tilted my head. The smell of strawberries abruptly poured into the apartment, filling my nose. I twitched it, sniffing it appreciatively. Did Miles use strawberry shampoo?

I frowned. That wasn’t right. He used minty Head ‘n’ Shoulders.

Look out the window, a sudden voice in my head suggested. I quickly got up, ignoring his, “what are you doing”s, and peered out the window. I wasn’t sure why I was listening to my voice. A blonde girl was hurrying away, her hair spilling down my back. Her eyes were concealed with oversized Versace sunglasses. She wore an expensive coat, her Jimmy Choos clicking in the road. She looked around, then looked up. I felt her gaze on me, with or without the glasses. My tongue grew heavy and my throat bobbed. I felt extremely nervous.

She slipped inside the Prius. I felt an abrupt shock in my ear. Ignoring it, I watched as she sped off. I still felt the gaze of her.

Curious, I watched as she escaped out the neighborhood, her dark blue Prius in the distance.

I whipped around, stalking back to Miles.

“What was that about?” He questioned, shifting the pillow.

“I just saw someone,” I said casually. He didn’t look worried.

I glanced at his watch and widened my eyes.

“Shit, sorry, I’ve got to run. I’ve got to pick up some stuff for my mom. She wants to create dinner. An ‘extraordinary’ dinner,” I quoted, rolling my eyes. My lips connected with Miles. I still felt a sudden shock in the back of my skull now, craving more of his kisses.

It took all my willpower to pull away. His hand lingered on my back as he walked me to the door.

“Bye. See you tonight? The Ranch?”

“Maybe,” I said, smiling at his face. His emerald green eyes bore into my eyes. His gaze lingered for a moment, before he opened the door.

“Bye,” He said again. I waved at him and I slipped out the house. My eyes grazed to the ghost of the Prius, gas wavering in the air. I opened the door to my car and slipped in, shoving the keys into the ignition. The car roared to life and I sped off, the image of the mysterious blonde girl oddly in my head.  

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Author's Note: Hey, readers. Did you like this chapter? If so, I'd really appreciate it if you voted, commented, or added to your library! Maybe I'll dedicate you, too! Thanks for reading.

Also, I'd love to give credit to foreveryoung_09 for creating my wonderful cover, who I dedicated this chapter to. Merci!