IFHY // T.C. {non-regular updates}

Chapter 2: Analog 2

It was 1am, and the party had no end in sight. I was in the Green Room, a huge lounge room filled with pillows, crystals, lowlights, and weed.

I felt like Dorothy in the Emerald City.

You would think some millionaire playboy threw the party, not some tipsy 18 year old. And as much as Salem lied and hid behind her few modeling deals and sponsors, she couldn't fool me.

I'm not a mathematician, but even I know selling some detox tea on Instagram  isn't gonna make you a millionaire. I asked her earlier who's house this was, and she said something about some rapper she's "friends" with let her use the place.  Must be nice, I chuckled to myself.

Wonder what poor sap she lead on.

She always did have that charm about her; Salem could tell you to rob a bank and  put a bullet through your head after, and with a flip of her hair and a dimpled smile you'd do it, no questions asked.  I can't even speak to my crush without being awkward.

But I ain't mad at her, what charm does for her, awkward does for me. Not as affectively of course, but I luck out every now and then.

Ugh, this is getting old. I wanna go home. I shove my way downstairs, and stumbled my way to lake . It was dark, (obviously) and I don't  feel like walking home at this hour. So I decide to call Salem, let her know I had left, and then skurt-skurt outta here.

I reach into purse to find my phone, and immediately began to panic when I realized it wasn't there. "What the f*ck, where's my phone," I semi-yelled. Panicking, I called Salem to help me search for it.

"Dude, did you grab my phone on accident, I can't find it anywhere!" 

" What?!?" Salem hollers. Judging by the rap music  blaring in the background, she can't hear me.

"DUDE. I. CAN'T. FIND. MY. PHONE," I holler into my...

Wait a minute.

"Uh, I think I found it." I hang up abruptly, calling my Uber.

Leave it to Drunk Mars to call her friend on her phone to help her find her phone. 

I chuckled embarrassingly to myself, thankful nobody heard me. That is, until I hear some twigs snapping a few  yards away.

Sh*t.

"Who's there?" I yell, like some white girl in a horror movie.  Imma be pissed if someone murders me by this cliche a*s lake. I should know better, I didn't binge watch American Horror Story for nothing.

"Boo B*tch,"  somebody shrieks while lifting me up in the air.

Oh hell no.

I start flailing my little body, kicking and screaming, I ain't going down without a fight.

"GET YO CRACKAH HANDS OFF ME SUCK-" The person drops me on the ground, shrieking in laughter.

"Yo scary a*s," he sqeaks out inbetween his guffaws, he could barely breathe, he was laughing so hard.
I let out a sigh, then started to giggle myself. I pull pranks like this all the time, and I know my kicking and screaming must have been hilarious.

"Man, it wasn't that funny," I punched him in the arm, saltily. It had been 10 minutes and he still wasn't done his cracking up.

"Who are you, anyway? Harassing women and sh*t," I joked, wanting to know who this mystery weirdo was.

He was tall and lanky, with a small gap in his smile, and wore a a bright yellow shirt with GOLFWANG on the front to match. Whatever the hell that meant.

He was cute, in a weird way.

"Sh*t, my bad, " He said, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes. "You could say I'm a friend of Salem's."

"Well, you nearly made piss my pants, Mr. I'm-A-Friend-Of-Salem's."  I rolled my eyes. He better be glad he's cute, or else I'd beat his a*s.

He lets out another laugh. "Nah, but really, why are you out here this late by yourself? You know how rapist and murderers be, raping and murdering and sh*t."

"I was waiting for my Uber to get here, before yo evil a*s tried to scare me." 

"Tried? N*gga you was about to piss yo pants, don't front," he laughs.

We're interrupted by a car honking, and I see it's my Uber.

"That's my ride. I, uh, I guess I better go." I sort of didn't want to leave, he seemed like a nice guy.

Crazy as hell, but nice.

I'm in the Uber, and I'm typing my address into the driver's GPS when I see Mystery Guy running up to the Uber.  I rolled down my window.

"Wait! F*ck, I didn't get your name," Mystery Guy wheezes.

I smile a little internally, happy that he cared to want to know me.

"Marceline, but everybody calls me Mars."

He smiles. "Well my names Tyler. I uh, hope I see you again."

The driver rolls the window up, and takes off.

Hm. Tyler. I hope to see you again too.