KRIS
When Curtis invited me to an elite party upstate, this was not what I expected. Of course, my dumb head should have thought about the ‘elite’ part and maybe I could have pulled an appropriate outfit, not the faded blue jeans folded at the bottom to reveal the black and white all-star converses. I think my shirt is okay even when there is a faint smell of sweat.
I don't remember much but I got here in a limousine with Curtis and a bunch of kids I barely recognized who were drinking, some even going as far as popping mollys.
When we get to the front though, two girls in skimpy pink dresses welcome us with a tray filled with neon shots reading; Let's do shots bitches.
I want to avoid that, I'm not a fan but Curtis yanks me under his shoulder and forces me to click glasses with him.
The other girl drops a chopped lemon in my mouth and gives me an approving smile. I take that as a pass.
The inside, just like everything else, is not what I expected. There is order and no order at the same time. They took the party planning to a whole new level and I am quite amused.
The lounge area is big with a blue light stuck to the ceiling, comfortable-looking sofas lay in a circle and teenagers are sprawled leisurely around it.
Closer by The Chainsmokers and Halsey plays in a low base, setting the mood for making out and shit.
On the other side, there's a red light that is turning on and off. This side is the wild side of the room and it's weird how I'm not able to get the song playing when the only barrier is a transparent glass. The sight of bodies and sweat makes me cringe.
In a moment I'm brought up to speed by the ever-blabbering Curtis; they booked a chef for the mouthwatering menu, a waiter for a touch of sophistication, and a talented bartender—- can you imagine!
I'm dying.
This is nothing close to the house parties I have been to, I feel like I do not belong. I try to linger around to find some place to just sit and observe because honestly, I do not know how to act or what to do, but nowhere seems suitable. It's either too clean or infested with girls bubbling about their useless dick problems.
So I do myself a favor and step outside, thanking the heavens for the balcony.
"Hey stranger, having fun?" A voice so smooth and almost angelic pulls my attention from the beautiful scenery of the huge yard. It kind of looks like a hotel from the movies but I know not to be too shocked, it's upstate of Galveston after all. This is the fancy part of the town where you will find the town mayor's residence and other important and influential people.
I turn only to be met by beautiful black doll eyes, hooded by thick, long lashes and eyebrows. Her dark skin glows like beautiful rays of black coal.
"Umh," I grumble, out of words.
Or maybe I'm trying to recollect my brain. I'm not sure which distracts me more, her face or the fact that she is talking to me. How are people allowed to be this beautiful and rich?
"What? You don't like the party?"
I chuckle, heaving out a breath. The audacity.
"I can't believe you'd ask that, it's an amazing party," I blurt out, my eyes leaving hers and settling on her full lips richly covered in gloss. Almost like a cartoon character, just perfect.
"Why am I not surprised?" she mumbles softly, taking the space next to me. Suddenly I'm self-conscious. I should have washed this shirt.
"You've been to many of these, I suppose," I say, unintentionally taking in her lips again. Too full, too appealing.
I bite on mine, chapped and dry.
"You could say that," she says, then inhales softly.
"I see," is all I say before we both fall silent.
I'm not staring anymore, I think I have had enough of her. She is tall and, curvy; no doubt, and the stilettos she has on gives her at least a foot close but I'm taller.
Her body is covered in a piece of black satin material that barely covers her ass and the sides are split only to be joined by shiny strips of a thousand glitters. Then a pink sash with; PRINCESS printed on it crosses the middle of her breast.
"That's going to burn you," she says. I lift my eyes from her breast to her face.
"Huh?"
She doesn't speak, only drops her eyes to my hand and I follow the gesture. I'm shamelessly holding a dying rolled-up piece of paper that's gotten too close to my skin.
"Oh, this. . ." I wave it in the air.
A ray of embarrassment washes over me. I don't know this girl but I feel it's not very attractive of me to be smoking in front of her. I don't give a shit what people think of me but, this time, I think I care.
"Want some?"
Very stupid.
Her lips crack into a smile, a tiny smile, and shakes her head.
"Okay..." I lift my other hand which holds a blue plastic party cup. "How about this?"
"No, thank you. I don't do any of that," she says, I don't miss the disgust in her tone which makes me feel even more out of place.
"Well you don't drink, you don't smoke, what are you doing at a teenage party? Hooking up?" I ask, in a desperate attempt to feel good about myself.
It's impossible to be alcohol or weed-free here. So why is she here dressed in black yet seeming as pure as snow and guilt-tripping me?
"Well, I'd leave but there's a little complication," she hums, hands gripping the gold rail encircling the terrace.
"Enlighten me," I say, spreading my arms to carelessly trash the last piece of my joint on the posh floors and step on it.
Curtis mentioned they hired a cleaner too.
"You could burn the entire building y'know?" She notes, casually.
"Who cares?" I grumble. I know I don't give a fuck about this building and neither does any teenager inside that room. If they cared so much they wouldn't have hosted this at all.
"Typical teenager," she says with a stench of disgust like before.
I scoff but I let it slide.
It's quite annoying how she carries herself with such adultness.
"Whatever, hey, you wanna get out of here for a while?" I go ahead and ruin all my chances. I know she will say no and truly that's all I want, I want to get rid of her so badly.
"I would, but. . .” She lifts the sash. “This is my birthday party, it's rude to leave.”
"You live here?" I try to hide my bewilderment, but I guess it's shining right through my eyes.
"Dah." She rolls her eyes, shrugs, and in a very cheeky way bounces off without even saying, 'bye'.
I don't think I need more reasons to hate rich people.
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Note; I do not own any rights to the content below. Also, these are my character muses, if you want to imagine them any other way, you're free to do that!!!
CHARACTERS (MCs)
Kris Jones
Reese Peyton