ETHEREAL

CHAPTER 30

I'm excited about Alex's "Wear White" (a nod to P. Diddy's end-of-the-summer bash) party tonight, especially since I will see Damien, even though things are somewhat strained between us. Spencer is going to drive and pick all of us up, thankfully. I slightly don't want to go, because of how there is a dress code, and I feel like something ominous is going to happen. I put on my white shirt and light blue jeans, with dark blue hidden platform heels, anyways. We pick up Damien, and the vibe in the car seems tense, since all of my friends hate him now, after everything that they have witnessed and heard about him.

All of us walk into the party as Rihanna's "Man Down" is blasting, and the loft is packed. Damien grabs at least five Jell-O shots for himself. I sip on some water, and hum to the music. I point finger guns at Damien, and dance backwards, as I lean into the beat, and do backwards body rolls to the music. He smirks at how I mouth the words to him.

Suddenly, it seems overly humid, hot and too crowded. I feel like I can't even breathe in this place. "I want to buy some cigarettes," Damien remarks and I wonder if he noticed that I felt like that, but it is probably just coincidental. "I'll go with you," I say and link my hand into his.

The white and black tiled hallway outside of Alex's loft is perfectly empty and devoid of any stragglers. I grin manically at Damien. "I want to do cartwheels! Hold my bag," and I shove my studded clutch into his hands. He backs up and looks bewildered. "Skye - what?"

I perfectly execute three cartwheels and finish grandly at the end of the hallway, where the door to the penthouse is open and a pit bull is barking loudly and cacophonously, in its' locked cage. "Why do you think the owners left their door open, with the dog just sitting there?"

"Um, I guess to deter anyone from breaking in... but it's weird. I think someone's coming, Skye..." Damien peers at the stairwell next to him.

The thunderous steps of a stocky, seemingly out-of-breath security guard sound like they are coming closer. "STOP! Now! I don't know why y'all kids want to do cartwheels here; I JUST took a girl to the ER last weekend, since she cracked her skull wide open!"

Smugly, I grin and remark, "She wasn't as good as me, then."

"Skye -" Damien starts in a warning tone.

"Girl, I gotta hand it to you, you're good, you are, but you can't do that here. I'll kick y'all out if you try that, again, I don't care who y'all friends with here, 'cause I know y'all ain't live here," the guard is still struggling to catch his breath and reprimand me at the same time, and I feel guilty now, because he is just trying to do his job. There is something unnerving about being with Damien in which I feel like it makes me completely lose my head. Why does being with him make me feel like I can do anything, and nothing malicious will ever happen to me, when actually the opposite has been proven time and time again? But, this is ultimately my fault, for letting myself get carried away, with the high of being - so trite to say, I know - in love with him.

"I'm sorry; I'll stop - we were just leaving, but we'll come back soon," I offer, and the guard looks relieved.

The guard nods and we follow him downstairs. He plops back down into his surveillance spot by the front door, and we walk, hand in hand, in the darkness of the city to the nearest, brightly lit gas station.

"I wish that you would stop smoking," I whine to Damien, and brush myself against him closer.

He twirls intricate, random patterns on my palm, and simply says, "I will," but I don't believe him.

About fifteen minutes later, we walk back into the party, and it seems like no one even knew that we were gone. Lady GaGa is blasting now, and I sing to Damien the lyrics to "Government Hooker." His eyebrows raise up, and I giggle. I tug on his hand and lead him into a dark, empty room that serves as Alex's office, I believe. There are two large windows that overlook the luminous buildings of the city, and the subsequent blinking blue lights on nearly every corner, and I jump up to lean against the glass. I'm finally at Damien's height and he reaches to move a strand of hair away from my face. I open my legs, and he stands between them to kiss me, first softly, then frantically, as I suck harder on his tongue, and I love and hate the way that it feels like literal fireworks go off every time that I'm with him. He presses my back against the window, and the cold feels nice, although I hope that these windows are actually locked.