"Scarlett Rose, you cannot wear that," my mother told me as she walked into my room. I was wearing black leggings and a plaid shirt; I didn't see a problem with it.
"I'm comfortable; is that a crime?" I snapped.
"For a nice dinner with the Mathews, yes. It's Dylan's eighteenth birthday, try a little harder to make it look like you're not completely miserable." My mother knew how much I hated Dylan, but because her and Dylan's mum had been friends since college I had to be around him much more than I would have preferred. I rolled my eyes and walked back into my closet in search of something nicer to wear.
I finally settled on a simple black dress - it was nice, but also a subtle metaphor for misery.
I walked down the main stairs and entered the kitchen where my mother was finishing wrapping Dylan's gifts. She looked up from the ribbon she was tying and mentally critiqued my outfit choice.
"Isn't that the dress you wore to your father's funeral?" She asked sounding appalled.
"Yes, I thought it was fitting for the day that Dylan was brought to this world," I smirked a wicked smirk and walked out to my car. The only perk of growing up in a wealthy family was that I always had a getaway car when I needed it; otherwise it actually sucked.
After my father passed away our house felt massive and empty. Mother and I hardly saw each other anymore; we were always on opposite ends of the house. I was typically in my art studio, and she was usually in her office with her patients.
My mother was a shrink. She hated when I called her that but it was her profession and there was no denying it.
She said calling a therapist a shrink was similar to calling a black person the "N" word, or a white person a cracker. Derogatory and disrespectful. But she obviously thought her title was much more important than it actually was, so I called her a shrink anyway.
Mother didn't like me very much because I wasn't like her patients who she could talk to and understand what was going on in their heads. First of all, I would never actually sit down and talk with her about my "feelings." And second of all, I knew she could never understand a single thought that ran through my messed up head.
When I pulled up to a stoplight my phone buzzed in the cup holder. I unlocked it and checked my texts.
*I see we're driving separately.* From my mother of course. I decided that it would be best if I didn't reply so I set my phone back in the cup holder.
I pulled into the parking lot of the overly-expensive restaurant Dylan had chosen for his birthday dinner. As I was about to step out of the car, my closest friend, James, called me.
"What do you need James?" I asked the moment I accepted the call.
"Party tonight at Tristan's! It's supposed to be one for the books! You in?"
"I have to have dinner with the warden and Dylan's family, but I'll try to slip away early. If this party is going to be as good as you say, there is no way in hell I'm missing it!"
"Good. Then I'll see you there!" James ended the call and I sat in my car pondering how long I could avoid dinner before my mother came looking for me.
My thoughts were interrupted by her pounding on the window - obviously I couldn't sit in my car long at all.
I rolled the window down and looked up at her makeup coated eyes. "Are you trying to break my window?" I asked.
"Turn the car off and get out, we're going to be late," she commanded. I obeyed reluctantly and followed her into the restaurant. Dylan and his mum, Jannell, were sitting, waiting for us. When Dylan spotted me a crooked smile spread across his face that made me want to pull the mirror off the wall behind him and smash it over his head. But I refrained from severely injuring him on his birthday.
"Erica! Scarlett! It's so good to see you two!" Jannell greeted me and my mother. They exchanged a hug and Jannell didn't bother hugging me. She knew I wasn't much of a 'hugger' and apparently that's actually a way to describe someone. I think it's crap - you either enjoy hugging or you don't; it doesn't shape you as a person.
"Happy birthday Dylan!" My mother hugged him as well. I stood motionless and she subtly elbowed me. It was her "don't be a bitch" elbowing; I had gotten that one too many times to count.
"Happy birthday," I said with a fake smile. Dylan said thank you and we walked to the table where his dad, Christopher, was already seated at.
"Erica, it's so nice to see you!" He said as we approached. They had just seen each other a few days before; it couldn't have been that great to see her so soon.
"Thank you for including me and Scarlett in your plans for Dylan's birthday!" She replied. I took my seat silently.
As dinner continued on I wasn't interested in the adult conversation, and I didn't want to talk to Dylan either so I simply sat and gradually lessened my plate of Chicken Alfredo.
"So are you excited for senior year Scarlett?" Jannell asked me in a poor attempt at making small talk. I poked at my food and stalled my answer.
"I guess so; I mean it's just another year of high school." I wasn't well-known at school, I didn't play any sports or join any clubs. And I definitely never went to a school dance. So high school was basically pointless to me. The only reason I hadn't dropped out was because I needed the grades to get into college and get the hell out of Bar Harbor, Maine.
"Just another year of high school? It's your best, most important year of high school!" Christopher said in his naturally loud voice.
"Alright." I continued to poke at my Alfredo, I wasn't hungry but I needed some food in my system before the party - which I still needed to figure out a reason to leave our dreadful dinner for.
As if he knew I was thinking about the party, James texted me. I carefully pulled my phone out of my purse and opened the text.
*Party started twenty minutes ago and the house is already packed! Where the hell are you?!*
James always refused to drink until I arrived and could drink with him. He was definitely a weird kid, but he was the only person I could confide in and party with, so I accepted his quirks.
*Be there in ten* I replied quickly and dropped my phone back in my purse.
"Thank you for dinner Mr. and Mrs. Mathews, it was delicious. I have a prior engagement I need to attend, so I must be going now." I moved my napkin from my lap to my plate of pasta and stood up from the table.
"Where are you going?" My mother asked trying to remain as level headed as possible in front of the Mathews.
"James is having a melt down; I have to bring him back to reality." She probably thought that James was the most mentally unstable guy in the world because of how many times I used him as an excuse to leave for the night.
"Fine," she huffed and ignored my final goodbye.
I walked out of the restaurant thinking to myself "thank god I got away from that dinner!" If I had stayed there any longer I might have gone insane! All the Mathews liked to talk about were academics and careers and shit. It was making me nauseous.
They didn't ask me many questions because they knew I wasn't nearly as dedicated to academics as Dylan seemed to be. Then again, they didn't ask me much about anything after my father passed away. It was as if they thought I was a grenade waiting to explode. Or a thin piece of glass that could shatter any second.
I was in desperate need of a drink and luckily the party wasn't far away. I put my keys in the ignition and brought my car to life. I was about to pull out of my parking space when Dylan knocked on my window. I didn't roll it down for him, so he pulled my door open.
"What?" I said with an exasperated sigh.
"Is James okay? Do you want a guy friend to go with you to help him come back to reality?" Dylan had no sympathy in his voice. He definitely knew I had other plans.
"No, you aren't his friend. He just needs me."
"Well, since that didn't work...why don't you just tell me where you're actually going?" Definitely caught. I glanced at my clock; I had five minutes to be there in ten minutes like I told James I would be.
I didn't have much of an excuse to give, but I also didn't want to tell him where I was actually going because he would be the type to rat me out just to get under my skin.
"To James' house, like I said. Now walk away from my car unless you want to lose the ability to have children," I threatened him. He put his hands up in surrender and backed away. I shut my door and drove off slightly faster than I would have before that little chat.
The whole drive I kept thinking about what Dylan might have done if I had told him the truth of where I was headed. He probably would have gone and told my mother that I lied about it. Or maybe he would have asked to tag along...god knows I wouldn't have allowed that! But I was far enough away from the restaurant that I didn't need to worry about any of it.
The moment I turned off my car in front of Tristan's house, James was pulling the door open and yanking me out of it.
"Jesus Christ James! Calm down, I'm here, now let's go drink our worries away!"
"I've been offered so many drinks already Scar! I'm dying here!" He kept my arm held in his tight grip and tugged me into the densely packed house.
Once I was through the door, I had a cherry vodka sour in my hand. But Tristan made it, so I wasn't planning on drinking it. Tristan wasn't always the most trustworthy drink-maker.
"Drink up sexy!" Tristan shouted over the deafening music. I held the drink to my lips and acted like I took a sip just to make him happy and get him to go away. It worked. Soon Tristan disappeared into the crowded room and I was left to navigate my way to the kitchen.
I took a shot of raspberry vodka and then mixed two rum and cokes for James and myself.
"Yes! Exactly what I needed," James downed his rum and coke before I was even halfway finished with mine.
I finished my drink and suddenly felt someone watching me. I scanned the kitchen trying to find out whose watchful gaze was observing my movements, but I couldn't seem to find who it was so I gave up on the hunt.
"What's wrong?" James asked as he poured us two more shots of raspberry vodka.
"Nothing, I just thought someone was looking at me. That sounds stupid. It was nothing!" I sighed and knocked back my second shot of the evening.
"Nothing like some underage, teen drinking to enhance the quality of the night!" Dylan came up behind me putting his arms over mine and James' shoulders.
"Shit," I cursed under my breath.
"You should have just told me your 'prior engagement' was Tristan's party. We could have carpooled," Dylan chuckled as if he was mocking me.
"I'll remember that for next time," I replied sarcastically. I quickly poured another shot and gulped it down. Of course Dylan would show up at the party. Just my damn luck.
"Hey! Were you the one who was watching me a few minutes ago?" I began to slur my words as the alcohol flooded my veins.
"No," he laughed, "I just got here." I frowned and decided to let it go.
Without another word, I fixed myself a sex on the beach, exited the kitchen, and made my way toward the mass of people who were dry humping - or in their words, dancing.
I would dance some, drink some, and then dance again, all while I felt someone's eyes burning into the back of my head. I tried to look around but there were too many intoxicated teenagers for me to spot the one who was watching me.
In an instant, I was frozen to my spot on the dance floor, and someone's strong, toned arms were wrapped around my waist.
"You are way too beautiful to be here alone," my mystery guy whispered into my ear. His voice sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't quite make out who it was.
"You're Scarlett, right?" I nodded my head in hopes that he could recognize my response from behind. "Are you here alone?" he added. I nodded again. Technically I didn't come with James.
"Then who was that guy with you in the kitchen?" This was definitely my observer.
"My friend."
"Do you know who I am?" He questioned in a sexy voice. It sent a shiver down my spine that didn't stop until it got to my toes. I shook my head "no" and hoped yet again he got the message. "You'd know me if you could see me." Now he was coming off as a cocky jackass; must have been one of Dylan's friends.
I turned to face my mystery guy and couldn't stop my jaw from hitting the floor. I almost couldn't believe he was the one who had his arms wrapped around me. He was the one who had been watching me most of the night. Mister popular, mister star quarterback, mister 'too good for any girl in school.'
"CJ?!" I whispered his name in awe. What the hell was going on?!