hey. request people i should write about and what i should add to this "story". so, to all the horny teens out there, enjoy.
* * * * *
As Paulo and I got out of the car, the undeniable smell of weed erupted form the house parallel from the Audi. Flashing lights beamed from the windows and drunkards, stoners, and half naked boys littered the front lawn.
"Goddammit," I moaned, "I thought you said-"
But before you could finish Paulo got dragged away be his asshole friends covered in sweat and beer.
"Relax Y/N, have some fun!" he yelled from a yard away.
"Fuck," I muttered.
I didn't know anyone at the party. Just a bunch of idiots from Paulo's football team: young with too much money.
* * * * *
Thirty minutes after my "grand" welcome, I was ready to leave. Alcohol was everywhere. No one in the house was sober. And if they weren't sober, they were high as shit. My ass had been grabbed three times too many and the overwhelming smell of piss was driving me mad. I stood up from a leather seat, prepared to stay in the car and wait, just to be approached by another pothead looking for sex.
"Hey, pretty lady wanna dance?" he smiled, "I love this song." He stumbled close enough for me to catch the sent of Moonshine on his shirt.
"Attention" started blasting from the living room and he started dancing clumsy in front of me. I laughed, he took my hand, and I let them move down to my waist. Our bodies began to move in sync.
I shouldn't be doing this. He's gonna see me.
I felt guilty as hell, but the music pounded against my ear drums and everything felt oddly right.
"FUCK!" someone screamed from across the house.
Another pair of hands were on me now. But they weren't flirty. They were aggressive, and pulling me away from my dance partner.
"What the fuck are you doing Y/N!?"
It was Paulo.
"I'm sorry I-"
"You know what!? Save it!" he yelled pointing his finger into me face.
But suddenly, his gaze wasn't on me anymore. It was fixed on a tall guy with a beer can shifting quickly through the crowd.
"Hey!" Paulo yelled, "Get your ass over here punk!"
"Paulo," I held his hand tightly.
"Did he force himself on you!? Did he touch you!?"
Before I could answer he was pushing through the crowd yelling and screaming hysterically. As I ran after him a loud crash echoed through the house from the kitchen. Someone was on the floor bleeding from the mouth surrounded by glass. Paulo marched from the kitchen and grabbed me, " We're fucking leaving."
* * * * *
I could feel his cold green eyes staring at me from the opposite side of the bed. What the hell were the only three words he could mutter out of pure disgust and what felt like hatred.
"I'm sorry."
"You're going to need to do a lot more than that to make me forget about what happened."
"I'll do anything please just don't be mad."
"It's a little late for that," he muttered underneath his breath.
