Perspective

Chapter Three.

"Dude looks like a lady"

***

Green.

That's the colour that's threatening to make me wonder if I can survive a ten foot drop onto cement with no broken bones.

Pale Jade green irises, framed by dark lashes and curious brows staring straight into my god damn soul while I forget the English language again.

And. That. Fucking. Smirk.

I just stare wordlessly back at him, finally getting a decent look at his sharp yet boyish features complimented by that wild mess of curls that he brings his hand up to run his fingers through lazily.

What is this? A party for ridiculously attractive people and I just managed to get in out of pure luck? Did they all just send out memos to each other to congregate in this fucking house?

Another figure coming out of the patio doors catches my attention, a head of blonde hair but I nearly fall over standing up when I finally see the front of that head, the face of the woman I saw in that room who apparently...has... A moustache?

I glance over their figure, noticing the small petite frame in tight jeans and a t-shirt and take note of the very apparent absence of breasts.

That girl was not a girl at all, it is very much a dude and now I'm looking back to ol' green eyes over here even more speechless.

Well you know that they say, the word assume makes an ass out of u and me, and I made one hell of an assumption about the man that was on his knees with absolutely incredible luscious long blonde hair, honestly it's like watching a Pantene shampoo commercial as he walks.

Of course he's gay, most of Frankie and Alexs friends are - but honestly that blonde hair just fucking threw me, it was like seeing Paris Hilton from behind.

Green eyes gives me a once over, leaning his arm above his head against the wall and tilts his head.

"End up finding the bathroom Drew?" he asks, his full lips wrapping around and accentuating each of the syllables through his thick British accent.

Oh super, this is getting even better - no really, it's possible to free fall 10 feet and maybe not die right? Honestly either way seems like a fantastic option right now.

I frown at him, pulling my face back "How the hell do you know my name?"

He wets his lips, as another smile ghosts across them "That riveting conversation you were having with yourself just then, that's your name right? Drew?"

"Possibly..." I reply cautiously, turning my face to look at him sideways.

He bites the tip of his tongue between his straight pearly teeth, with a wide smile and lifts his brows "Possibly? Well who else were you talking to?"

I point to my head, lifting my own brows, and try to play crazy to get him to leave me alone "There's about ten of us up here, always great for conversation"

He bites back a laugh, bringing his ring clad fingers up to scratch at his jaw and I notice the patterns and pictures stained in black ink on his defined arm.

"So tell me" he begins curiously, popping the dimple in his cheek as that smirk returns slowly "Do you make a habit of  walking in on people getting blow jobs?"

I choke on my own spit, gaping at him - who the fuck asks - why would he say...- Why is he smiling about this?!

The infuriating arrogant look on his face taunting me, cues my response as I squint at him "Do you make a habit of getting blow jobs in other people's rooms at parties?"