So the sneaking out part was easier said than done. As I was done showering and making myself ready, which meant plastering makeup on my face with wet hair in a bun and white robes on, my mom came in with the laundry. She stopped still and I felt my gut sink into an unexplainable level, my heart beating with an unmeasurable pace. I was already coming up with excuses in my head before she even opened her mouth.
Instinctively I smiled and took the clothes from her.
"What are you doing?" She snapped as I took the clothes away.
"I'm putting my clothes in the drawer?" I half jokingly said.
"No, why the hell are you putting makeup on now?" She narrowed her eyes as the bell started chiming in her head. "Are you going out, is that what you are doing?"
"No mom," I sighed. "I always put makeup on before I go to sleep. Not mascara though, but everything else. You know, so it's easier in the morning." My voice was so steady, my words not coming out too fast or too slow. There was a point in them that may as well be true. Since I was sometimes a girly girl (though not always) it seemed believable, you know? And my mother's reaction proved that.
"That doesn't even make sense, why not the mascara too?"
"Since my lashes fall off then, trust me, don't even try it."
My mom still seemed a bit uneasy, but she went with it. She left and I sighed in complete relief.
As you can see I don't get guilty by lying to my parents. But it is weird. Feeling bad after lying to strangers and not feeling bad by lying to my own mother and father? That didn't make sense. At all, not the slightest. Yet that was how I felt and I couldn't do shit about it. I returned to my makeup and when I was pleased with my transformation I gave myself a short, sincere smile.
I didn't have pretty brown eyes, but they were a bit hazel ish, small, but not making me look complete Asian. No offense though, Asians are the most cutest on earth, but it wouldn't suite me, you know? I had a bit tanned skin, but at the same time could be mistaken for a European, taking in the fact that my father was from Egypt and my mom from Spain, it was quite surprising. I had inherited my mom's cheekbones which kind of stuck out, but at the same time not. My father's lips, that were a bit thin on the bottom and plump on the top, was as sewn onto my face. A perfect copy. And thank God for the dimples. I had beauty marks splattered on my face, a zit or two, but they were unrecognizable due to the makeup.
I had the whole Spanish slash Egyptian thing going on, a crazy mix, but I was pleased with it.
Now you know what kind of sexy beast I am and please, save me the flatter. No, I'm kidding, but seriously, I was pleased with how I looked. I wasn't slim, but I was skinny. Really skinny. That resulted to an almost flat chest. Heavy on the almost, since I did have boobs, alright?
Suddenly I heard my phone scream out some indie song I had totally forgotten the name of and I rushed to it with all my might. It wasn't because I was so eagerly curious to who it was (I knew it would be my loser), but since the ringtone was too damn loud and would make my parents come in and claim an explanation to why I had a phone at all since they took mine. (I had a spare phone, just a reminder.)
"What'd you want?" I panted.
"Well hello to you too, Miss Have-No-Time-Greet-Properly." Nove scoffed and I couldn't help but to roll my eyes.
"Again, what'd you want?"
Nove sighed and I heard a crazy background noise that made me think a bit on the naughty side. There was moaning going on and I knew, as the freak Nove was, that maybe he was drunk calling which he usually did. And when he did, well, he was on some pretty crazy scene.
"I'm at the gym and I'll probably come late to the party, you'd have to find someone else to drive you."
"First, why are you at the gym when you're lazy as hell," which wasn't true. When he worked out at home he worked like a motherfucker. But never at the gym since he hated the public display. "Second, why the hell can't you pick me up?"
"Don't use hell twice, it makes you seem uncool. And I was forced to help my mom out at the gym so I'm stuck a couple of hours. By the way, you've seen me naked. You know I'm not lazy."
I grossed out at the memory of it. I'd rather not tell you about it, but since it probably picked out your interest, I figure I'll have to do it.
So as summer approached and sophomore year ended Nove and I went swimming. As the idiot wanted to impress the guys at the beach and took off his clothes, he did it quite too fast. He dragged his pants down and along with it, his swimsuit/boxer. A few girls started whistling at him and boy if he got red.
Everywhere.
But Nove was right in one thing. He was not lazy when it came to working out. He was good looking and he knew it.
"Whatever," I muttered. "See you there, loser."
"Bye, whore."
Since you know I'm not completely unpopular it was nothing for me to call someone to pick me up. Jay was more than willing and he knew I was grounded so if he had to wait a bit longer than what he wanted too, he understood.
Thankfully everyone at the house crashed an hour until midnight and I got out quickly.
"Quite the badass, huh?" Jay chuckled as I settled into his car. I laughed and shrugged.
"You know how I am,"
He nodded and with funny chatters and laughs we got the party in high spirits.
And boy if it was loud. I won't bore you with details of how high school parties went, but in England it could get pretty nasty. People were literally having it on the front porch. And since the house was pretty high and wide, with dark corners and all, they were probably having it everywhere else too. I was surprised the cops hadn't arrived yet, but it was only matter of time. I had been to a few parties on my own so I knew and was prepared. I was a dare devil, being grounded and all, but I wouldn't let it bother me as I went through the open door and dubstep filled my ears with delight. Jay waved a goodbye as he saw his buds at the sofa and I waved right back. Then I looked after the alcohol as if life depended on it. I wasn't a lightweight, mind you, but the little cocktail in my hand was enough to give me a slight buzz. It was probably spiked with something strong, but the buzz was little and I only wanted just as much.
"Such a girly drink," someone commented by my side and I raised a brow as I turned to whoever who had insulted my drink.
Yes, I took my alcohol serious. Don't judge.
"Excuse me?" I snapped as I looked into grey blue eyes. The guy was a prodigy of some actor. Maybe Johnny Depp since he gave me a feeling that reminded me of a pirate. A drunk, cute pirate.
"Pink cocktail with a little umbrella? Please, this is not Sex and the City," the guy rolled his eyes as he lifted his beer to my reach of grabbing.
"Drink this, coward."
There was no pressure except to show him he was wrong. That I was no fucking coward. But the sheer thought being drunk made me change my mind.
"No thanks, I'd rather be drunk another day." I smiled sweetly at him, before trying to walk away. And I say trying, since the fucker had his hands on me.
"Fine, fine, sorry." I heard him say softly and I forgave him for the sudden unasked action of grabbing my wrist. I turned back to him and I noticed that his black hair seemed to have brown stripes in them.
"The hell?" I blurted and realized I had said it out loud when he looked at me questioningly. "Those bloody brown highlights actually look good on black?"
See, here's the thing. I always wanted to have brown highlights on my very dark hair, but people told me no, it was ugly, it wasn't going to suite me and blah blah. So I gave up on my dream of that and kept my hair dark. But seeing it actually look good on someone? The bastards lied!
"Is that a way of saying I look...good?" The guy smiled in uncertainty and I had to give him that. The pirate played good on the careful side. He was playing all good now, but it was only a matter of time until his drunk, horny side emerged.
"No, it's a way of saying that brown highlights on dark hair looks fucking good and I am pissed because of that."
The guy blinked at my language since I was a girl and girls don't have a potty mouth. But I was more like a dude than a girl, except the occasions where I went totally bipolar and was girly as hell.
"So, my hair looks good?" The guy tried again softly, playing the uncertain guy pretty well with how his face contorted to confusedness that seemed very out of place on him for some odd bizarre reasons. I nodded.
"Which means I look good?" He grinned again and that seemed to be a smile he often used when it came to the other sex. Don't ask me why and how, but I just simply knew this guy was trying to work me up with his charm and good looks and I had to admit even to myself, it was definitely working. Those grey blue eyes were definitely a charm in themselves, and his revealing V-shirt was barely hiding his muscles that screamed for me to lick them.
"You're trying to make me admit you look good?" I smiled back and he shrugged casually. It was then I noticed, as he came closer, that my wrist was still in his grasp. I turned it around so I could twin my fingers into his, dragging his hand down as he came eye level to me.
"But you know what?" I purred and his eyes became eager. "You don't really impress me that much."
The guy didn't even seem mad. Actually, his grin became wider and he winked. Again, that looked like a habit of his, as if he winks a lot on his free time.
"Tell you what," he growled lightly and pressed his torso against my front and every little female hormone inside me screamed. They were going crazy and his stiff chest barely brushing mine made me want to do things I haven't done in quite a while.
"You don't impress me that much either. You're a teaser and I am really horny so," he straightened and his touches left mine along with his hand. I almost got pissed and wanted to hiss at him, telling him to fucking touch me more, but then again. I didn't want to reveal my freakish side just yet. Then his words connected with my awfully slow aroused mind and I cocked a brow.
"So?" I mimicked, wanting him to finish his line. He raised a small shrug and walked backwards.
"So I'll go find someone easy." He finished as he rounded up the stairs and I felt dumbfounded. The guy was blunt and though I usually enjoyed honesty, there were a few things that could be kept to yourself. But he did reveal his pig side (which I knew was there from the beginning) and so I wasn't really surprised. Though his small touches here and there made me feel quite, well, excited somehow and so I went around the house, bored. I was in a house full of teenagers raving, grinding, drinking and having the time of their life. And I was excited, or more like my lady part was if I was going to be blunt, but at the same time sickly bored.
And then, as if God himself felt sorry for me, I got to see quite a scene. Or more like peek. As I crossed an empty hall there was a door slightly open and I wondered, as I saw a glimpse of a shelf with books, did Brandon have a personal library at home? Glad and hopeful for the idea I went closer. But then abruptly stopped as I caught another glimpse.
The grey blue eyed guy was making out with a dark skinned girl, right on a table, legs twinned around him and faces sucking as if they were having a last-day-together-on-earth kind of moment. And let me tell you guys, not only guys get excited by the sight of these. Girls were pigs too, I admit that for the whole female specie. Really, we could be even worse than you boys.
But I on the other hand, was special. Not only was I getting excited by the sight of this (I am a fucking freak, I know), but I also felt like a little devil. The guy was nice, I'll give you that. But he did call me a bitch under the lines of his words, kind of, maybe. Anyways. I was a little devil by heart so don't be surprised when I tell you I strolled into that occupied room and went to the shelf by the corner of the room. And yes, they did stop doing their foreplay as I grabbed a book and pretended to read the cover of it. I didn't even look up as someone cleared their voice, trying to grab my attention.
"Excuse me?" The girl tried weakly, embarrassment lining her voice. I looked at her and smiled widely.
"Oh don't mind me, I'm looking for a book." I gave her a short nod before returning my attention back to the book in my hand. But I did notice the intense stare of the clearly surprised guy. I had to bit my tongue to not let my chuckle leave my mouth. I strolled down the shelfs, my finger trailing their surface and I gave a thoughtful look on them as I did.
"I really like books, you know," I took a glance towards a classic I've read before. "They look so plain, simple. Yet they are so-"
"I never thought you were the jealous type," Grey Blue Eyes said and I raised my brows with a grin.
"I'm not, but I like to be the home wrecker."
He smiled teasingly and the girl, well, she seemed pretty confused. She even stood up, straightened her very short dress, said something to the guy and slipped a paper inside his pants before she left hurriedly. So fast you'd think she was being trailed by a murderer.
But she also left us alone. Which I did not plan on either, so I felt pretty awkward and weird and just plain out dumb. I didn't know what I was thinking, ruining his chance of getting laid, putting myself out there as a cockblocker.
"So," the guy put his hands down his slacks and came closer to where I was standing. I clutched my book tight.
What the hell was I supposed to do now?
"So seems to be your favorite word." I blurted awkwardly and put the book back on its place. Then the breath of someone crossing the skin and hair on my neck made me freeze and the hormones raged, and I was completely, shamefully aroused by the thought of him so close, so near I could grab him there and then.
But I didn't. I froze like a fucking coward and just stood there.
"I have another favorite word," he whispered by my ear and it tingled and all I wanted to do was lean back, let him wrap his soft looking hands all over me.
"I'd rather not know about it." I told him, but as I felt fingers trailing up my lower back and after agonizing seconds, they ended by the beginning of my jaw and the touch of that, heaven's knows, I felt myself melt.
"Well, I'm gonna say it anyway," he chuckled and his finger lifted my head to the side as he neared his own, his nose brushing my cheek.
"Company," he snickered low, placing soft ghostly kisses from my cheek up to my temple, his other hand pushing my stomach closer to his front and I wanted to scream at him. To let me and my fuzzy mind go so we could get smart, real. But the lust?
Fuck, it was strong and I was too weak for it.
"Company?" I whispered.
"Company," he repeated. "In one way or another."
And then came the random moments of mine where I went totally bipolar and freaked the hell out. I pushed myself off of him and went to a seat, slopping down before I cradled my head in my warm, sweaty hands. I did it on impulse, alright? It just happens. The guy scoffed and I cocked my head up.
"I knew you were a coward."
"I'm not," I retorted angry. "I'm just not a whore."
"But you seemed like you really wanted me to do more than kisses to you."
"I did," I blurted bluntly. "But I have boundaries. Besides, I'm not that easy, remember?"
The guy chuckled as I echoed his own words and he nodded. "Yeah, you're definitely not easy."
But I was. I was really, really easy. But I had a freakish personality which made me seem hard to get.
God, if he only knew.
"But I like that," he smiled as he slopped on another chair, leaning over on his elbows. "Challenges can be fun."
"Oh, god," I moaned in annoyance, scowling at his pretty face. "So the cliche's true? Guys like challenges, really? Is this the part were we fall in love and I changed your badboy ways?"
The guy retorted to change his facial features into a grimace. "Relax, I haven't thought that far yet. You've seen TV too much."
I chuckled a bit insanely. "More like books."
There was a silence and I enjoyed it. I wasn't horny anymore, or bored. I was really empty and took things as it came. Being with a stranger that I had cock blocked didn't even bother me. It was a comfortable silence. Really, I was enjoying it.
"Hey," the guy spoke up and I looked at him a bit dazedly. "My name's Drake. Drake Mc'Carty."
"Avery Noria, but you could just call me Avy." We shook hands and it didn't seem weird. Just official.
"Anyways, my dick's still hard and I don't want to waste it." The guy scribbled something on a paper and gave it to me.
"Do you always walk around with pen and paper ready?" I took it with a smile and looked at odd numbers.
"Just in case I see someone cool,"
"Cool?" I snorted as I saw him stand up and walk away again.
"Or hot. Same shit, really." He waved a farewell by the door. "Bye, Avy. Call me when you feel like it. I'll be expecting it."
"Bye, future booty call."
And at that fleeting, gazed moment, I was actually considering it.
☻☻
As I thought my night could not get any less strange, I found myself thinking by the morning that I was completely wrong. So wrong I doubted whether God really loved me, or loved seeing me struggle. As I went down the stairs, exhausted by my encounter with Drake (sounds wrong, doesn't it?) I felt a bit giddy and empty at the same time. I looked around and sure enough, there was Nove talking with a couple of girls, his face droopy and dull, eyes glazed and the flirty grin on.
The thing is, when Nove gets drunk he suddenly turn bisexual and wouldn't mind shagging with either sexes, something he always object of whenever I take it up. The loser was currently working his charm on the giggly girls and I didn't doubt that he would get them. I was probably the only person who could withstand his disgusting flirts. And I was thankful for that.
"Great," I heard someone mutter close to me and my head automatically turned. But I regretted it afterwards.
"I don't get this," he continued muttering as he punched heavily on his phone. I was by the end of the stairs and the guy was at a lone corner, talking to himself.
And who was this mentally ill person? Zack Fucking Awlon, that's who he was. As my gut sank for the thousandth time I tried to shuffle my way out of his reach. But his eyes caught mine and they darkened to a dangerous color, his blue eyes not seeming so radiant any longer. They were dull and just plain out empty.
"Hi," he tried and even gave me a slight, taunting smile. He waved his phone at me. "Don't happen to know how to reset everything on a Motorola?"
"I don't." I hissed and turned harshly, forcing my way to the kitchen, and guess what, the fucker followed as a lost stupid, stupid puppy.
All the guilt I felt for him before vanished as I saw his face and the anger I had thought was as gone as the dinosaurs, well, it came right back as a unwanted stream, pouring down on my head with a threateningly speed.
"I just don't understand," he continued to me as I grabbed a red looking bottle from the fridge. "Is it my fingers or is it the phone? I don't know, it just doesn't want to obey, it-"
"Okay, listen up, you little shit," I snapped after a sip of the delicious drink. "You don't get to stand there talking to me after what you did to my locker and those stupid words of yours-"
"I think you're the one throwing stupid words, darling."
"For shit's sake, do I know you? Do you have any right to have done that? It took me two days to get it completely off!"
Zack smiled slightly at me. "I was thinking of doing it, but then I saw you'd already cleaned it so,"
"Liar," I took a chug of the bottle, very unladylike. "You're lucky I didn't tell the teachers about it."
"Merciful as Jesus aren't you..." Zack muttered and returned his attention back to his phone where he continued to search through it. Honestly, everything he did, every little movement, every raise of a brow as he read something, his eyes glancing up and down, the way his foot tapped uncontrollably on the floor. It annoyed me to no end.
"Tell you what," I smiled sloppily at him. "If you leave me alone until senior year is over I'll help you out with that phone of yours."
Zack looked up, seeming to consider it and then he shook his head, chuckling. "I'd rather not leave you alone at all,"
"You said I annoyed you, and still, you don't want to leave me alone, is that it? God, you're fucked up, you know that right?"
Then Zack looked up, and the dullness was replaced with danger. His tattoos seemed to glow a darkly color and everything about him screamed for me to run.
"I know I am fucked up, but darling, I think you're worse."
I felt the breath leave my chest. It wasn't his words, it was his voice. His harsh, harsh voice uttering the words at me as if they were drops of venom, and god, it burned. It burned in my eyes and chest and everywhere. His eyes, his very presence hurt me and I didn't know if I was about to crawl to the closest corner, ball myself up and cry, chanting after my mother. Since he was that scary, that frightening, that dangerous.
"Thanks," I breathed and his features didn't change by the sight of my obvious hurt. "I guess we're both screw ups."
"No, you are worse than me, get that in your head." Zack stepped closer, but only slightly, but still it rocked my fear and it ricocheted back and forth by the sight of his eyes, quivering with danger. "You remind me of those perfect, smiling, good princesses and it annoys me so fucking much."
Then he left and those words reminded me of Angie. And those two seemed so alike it was scary.
I let Nove know I was leaving and he didn't seemed to give a damn. I walked my way home, slowly, brain fuzzed with thoughts that brought me so low I didn't even consider picking myself up.
The words echoed around and I felt my heart stop at each of them. The venom in them making the hair on my skin crawl into a ball. They were so strong, those words, but the way he said it was stronger. Harsher. Worse.
I felt my stomach flop by the thought of how his blue eyes became so dark, so black as the ink forever burned into his skin. How wicked the art of it was. And then it hit me, maybe that art mirrored his personality. Maybe he was wicked, crazy, totally shrewd up on the inside. He didn't deny it, he only said I was worse. But that art, that evil dark art, could not be me, I could not, would not, be worse than that.
What the hell did Angie and Zack mean with me being a princess anyway? I was not acting like a royal bitch, did I?
Or maybe I was blind to how I was. Maybe I was a stocked up little girl wandering through the school on her high horse, imagining myself better than everyone else.
But at the thought of that, I knew it wasn't true. I knew myself enough to be humble when times called for it. I knew I didn't think myself better than anyone, actually it was more like the opposite. I thought everyone deserved things better than me. I may act all good, cheery and all, but I am a human being. I am a sad person at times and that made me learn shit.
I am not a princess, I don't act like one, don't think like one. But yet, what the hell did they mean about it?
"Hey,"
I jumped up and didn't even realize that the black, slick car had driven up to my side and Drake was smiling at my reaction.
"You fucking asshole!" I squeaked, putting my hand on my heart, feeling the rough beat by the adrenaline pumping. "You scared the living shit out of me."
"Sorry," Drake laughed and opened the passenger side. "Get in though, I don't want to see a fine girl like you walking home alone at this time of hour."
And I went in, glad to know I didn't need to walk the few miles to get to my house. I buckled up as a habit and Drake noticed the belt firmly tight on me. He sighed and then clicked on something which made the belt swizzle up. I glared at him confused, but he only shrugged.
"Live a little," he said and got the car going. And Jesus, he drove fast. I almost shat myself if it wasn't for the god given red light seconds after.
"Holy crap, don't drive like that!" I yelled and nudged his arm, but he only snickered amused. "Wanna get us killed?"
"Sure, why not?" Drake laughed and the second it became green he sped.
"Please, slow down!" I watched the occasional tree and houses fly by in the matter of seconds and my already fluttering heart leapt to a whole other level. Drake slowed down as I dug my nails into his arm. He turned into the main city and I started giving him directions.
Wanna know what the funny part is? The bastard lived in my street.
"Why haven't I seen you before?" I asked since I've lived in Varley Street for all my life and would notice a handsome guy like Drake.
"We moved in just now from London," Drake looked at me and he smiled knowingly. "You would've noticed someone like me, right?"
I scoffed, but didn't deny it. He knew he was pretty remarkable, why lie?
"Here it is," I said and Drake stopped a few feet away from our driveway. I turned to open the door, but was stopped as a hand grabbed my
chin, turned my face around and Drake slapped his mouth on top of mine. The soft, tingly sensation that wrapped me up as every kiss did to me filled the insides with jelly and I melted more, feeling unconsciously my tongue slipping inside and seconds after we were full on making out outside my house, in a sport car, with a stranger.
As that fact came into my complete dazed mind I softly pushed myself backwards and gave Drake an apologetic smile.
"Save that for someone else, lover boy," I murmured and he looked pretty dazed himself.
"No can do," he grinned and stole another kiss. But then I knew I had to get my shit together and I pushed myself off again. This time I didn't say anything and went out, feeling the stares of his pricking my back, but I ignored it as I went to the backside of the building. And as I slipped onto my room I noticed my blanket had been ripped off, the pillows in a line taunting me with the obvious fact. I was busted.
Then my eyes searched the room and landed on brown, hazel like eyes, watching me with murder in them.
||A/N: Ever snuck out and got caught when returning? Tell me your experience with that, it's fucking horrible, right? Anyways, like the new character Drake? I found out his name comes from Draco and as the Potter fan I am I immediately loved him (don't give me that eye, one can love imaginary guys). Thanks for reading!||