CHANGES | Nathan Scott

3

A few feet away from Lucas, stood Sam, my unofficial - official date for the night and Lucas' total opposite when it came to women.

I resented the fact I couldn't be with Sam, he's swarmed by a bunch of girls chewing his ear off. It hardly went unnoticed the way he had the girls nudging Lucas out of the way, who in turn I wished would get them to leave. Or at least take one for the team and have them flock to him instead, no matter what he had to do for their attention.

Sam had many girls wrapped around his little finger and all he had to do was speak with his stupid English accent, which admittedly I'm a sucker for, and stare you down with his seafoam eyes... the type of eyes, you knew you'd be done for if given just one look. His dimples are a sign of how hard he'd been smiling at someone, among other thoughts of what also could be going on deeper.

"Shut up," I murmured, my anger intended towards Sam.

"Excuse me?" My dad stops his instruction to grumble at me from the front.

"What? No, not you."  I sighed. I knew explaining myself would get me nowhere.  "Sorry, I meant speak up."

When dad continued on with this lecture, I glanced back to notice the flock of girls thankfully departing.

I could sense the tension rising again between the guys.  Their body language said it all, with folded arms, hunched shoulders and angled bodies.  The way their watchful eyes seek anyone to come along so they wouldn't have to make small talk, or even have to look at the other.  Eventually there's a wave of relief when a small group of our other friends pours out of a car towards them.

I wanted to join, sadly that's not about to happen yet.  There's no chance of leaving without a dads' well rehearsed lecture, which has been a dull murmur in the background that I turned out from. 

"You're both to be safe. That's a given. Oh, and more importantly, no and I mean no sex, no drinking, no drugs. Nothing. You're both closed for business, if you catch my drift. I don't want babies, having their own babies." His narrowed eyes switch between us, suspicious with a glimmer of hope we may crack under pressure and want to come home now.  "You're there to be with friends and have fun. And I don't want any trips to the hospital-"

Finally, he lets out a waft of relief with his coffee breath upon concluding his party lecture. 

Part of us knew he was no fool.  He was young once, despite his strict behaviour, we knew deep down he had his suspicions from his own experiences and judgement of what we'd be doing - which he'd be correct.  Aside from his apparent angelic perception of us, truthfully we're the exact opposite. None of these parties turned out any differently than the one before and always ended up the same; get drunk, completely fucked up and always pray we make it home in one piece.

The locks flick up, meaning we can escape now after a long and gruelling talking-to, he made valid points and we knew about the dangers for every party we went to.

We don't waste another moment as take off in our small heeled shoes, nothing would keep us back, not even the fear of twisting our ankles should we fall.

●◉●◉●

I've lost count of how many drinks I've had.

A rough guess,  enough to skew my vision from being able to read my phone screen clearly. 

When I found a point of focus the words turned into squiggles by floating up and down.