Introverted

Chapter 6: Pancakes and Swollen Lips

A/N:

Just as a prerequisite, she's telling the first half of the chapter or so in past tense, as it happened last night/early morning. She is telling it to you readers later in the day and then the story goes on from there.

That was the best night of my life.

So far at least.

I feel as though, after meeting him, I'll have many more best nights.

But probably none would be able to compare.

To last night.

We stayed on that roof for hours. Talked about anything and everything.

From the more serious stuff, like our aspirations and goals in life, to stupid stuff, like arguing which was better, waffles or pancakes.

Waffles (obviously).

He chose pancakes, but a while after the argument (not too heated. Lol no actually really heated), he told me he prefers waffles over pancakes, but just wanted to see my argumentative side.

I'm very good at arguing. After all, I do have two brothers.

I mean I've only argued with one. The others only nine.

Unimportant.

He also said that he didn't have a waffle maker, which saddens me. But he did say his mom makes the best pancakes.

I said he could just put it all into a waffle maker and not have to watch over it all the time, but he says his mom takes pride in being able to do something so small as to make pancakes each morning for her children.

I mean, they are almost out of the house, if not just Apollo and Alex, the rest would be soon.

Again, unimportant.

So yeah. We talked. About anything and everything.

By the point we had stopped talking, it was about 2 am, and the party was winding down. I don't know how a full blown party like this could've died down so quickly, but I guess I was pretty occupied.

We had climbed back down through the trap door, through the garden and back down the grand stairs to be greeted with the sight of a trashed living room. There were still a few guests mulling about, probably more in the guest rooms, doing you know what. The few people that were downstairs were black out drunk passed out or halfway there.

There was one guy, early 20s, attempting to help his friend up who was half dead (basically), and when he heard us tread down the stairs, smiled sheepishly and asked for some help.

Alex strolled cooly across the room and lifted one of the arms of the comatose guy on to his shoulder and up over his neck.

Gotta say, it was kinda hot.

The friend supported the other arm and told Alex where his car was.

Before he got out the door, Alex turned to me and grinned a cheeky grin and winked.

Um, wow.

When he got back inside, we noticed that there was red plastic cups everywhere, as it was an American themed party. (Red solo cups don't exist in other countries, it is seen as an American thing so much so that people from other countries think it's fake and have American themed parties that feature, you guessed it, red solo cups. Okay I'll stop ranting.)

Alex winced as he noticed furniture turned over in the living room connected to the kitchen. There was a puddle of unknown liquid on the carpet of the living room and tile in the kitchen. They are either alcohol or piss. Or both.