- You can set yourself on fire,
but you're never gonna burn -
Paris lives in the rich part of town, and her bedroom is the size of my living room. She lives in what should be called a mansion more than a house and the sculpted windowsills vaguely remind me of some kind of antique castle. However, the rustic exterior doesn't represent at all the modern, renovated interior where a mix of refined furniture, old tiffany lamps, and the original brick walls make a surprisingly charming contrast.
Entering Paris' bedroom is like walking in another dimension where everything is pink and fluffy. Her walk-in closet is by itself a world to explore, and I feel like I'm visiting a museum just by admiring her collection of hair products, perfumes, and impressive makeup cabinet.
Today, her hair is bright red, going down her waist in thick curls and she's wearing a leafy green dress, tightly enclosing her narrow hips, a Poison Ivy costume of her own making.
"You look hot," I tell her, looking over her shoulder at her reflection in the vanity.
I just don't get how she does it, with her brushes and color palettes, changing her face so effortlessly to end up looking so good, it's rather unfair. The touches of gold and dark emerald around her eyes give dimension to her entire visage, the highlights of verdigris near her forehead making her seem mysterious and the eyeliner sharpening her eyes.
Crystal laughs noisily in my back and I turn around to see that her and Hoseok are sprawled on Paris' king-sized bed, eyes darted at the girl's phone as she shows him a video.
"What is it?" I ask.
"A compilation of babies falling down their cribs," she proudly announces.
"You guys are monsters."
Crystal is dressed up as Cupid, which suits her well and is definitely on the sexier side; a red dress, white wings, and thigh-high boots. Her platinum hair is cut short to her chin, pushed back slick, and with the amount of dark eyeshadow she has on, she looks more like a Rockstar than a goddess of love.
Hoseok and I are dressed as Greasers, which totally was my idea. To be honest, I wanted to see my boyfriend wearing leather, and the result is beyond amazing. With his tight body in a pair of skinny jeans, white t-shirt, leather jacket, and his hair combed back with gel, he looks good in a way that makes my body tingles.
"Come here!" ushers Paris, scooting on the bench in front of her vanity to let me sit down at her side, "It's your turn."
I let out a sigh before straddling the bench to face her, and she immediately starts rubbing my face with some kind of cream that smells like vanilla. The cold feeling is satisfying, and I let her massage my forehead and cheeks, closing my eyes.
"No matter what you do to me, I'll never look as good as you tonight, so why even bother?" I ask her, grinning.
She shushes me by smacking my cheek with a makeup brush.
"Shut up, let me work."
When I open my eyes, I see her squinting at me, then ruffling through her makeup bag to look for my shade of foundation.
"Your face is really dry, so I'm looking for something liquid that won't hurt your fragile baby skin," she tells me, and I decide to stay silent and let her do whatever she wants with me.
I already feel all dolled up with my leather pants and tight sheer black top. I don't usually wear such revealing clothes and feel slightly exposed, but I got my look inspired from Sandy's last scene in Grease and decided not to detract from the idea.
"God, you have such a nice bone structure," Paris tells me as I snicker, "I'm serious, you're lucky. This is the kind of stuff you can't change with makeup."
"Heard that, Hoseok?" I mock, "I have a nice bone-structure."
"I completely agree, even if I have no idea what that means."
Soon enough, Paris is done, and I can finally look at myself in the mirror. It's quite simple, just a cat-eye with lots of mascara and bright red lips, but I still feel like a totally different person.
"Holy shit," I exclaim to my reflection, looking at the way my grey eyes look bluer and deeper, and my skin is bright and perfect, "Thanks for making me look pretty, Paris."
"You already looked pretty, idiot," she tells me.
"So, can we go now?" whines Crystal and the four of us agree to get ready and leave as soon as possible.
"Oh, wait, I almost forgot!"
Running to my bag, I take out the wig that I left there, long curly blonde thing that smells like cheap plastic. I bought it at the dollar store, and it looks a bit ridiculous, but I definitely need it to fit the character. I soon gather my hair in a red bun, clipping it with pins to my skull and install the wig on top, letting the hair fall on my naked shoulders.
"You look bomb, Sage," Hoseok tells, pecking my forehead.
He smells like the aftershave lotion I gave him for his birthday, and I smile as I burry my nose in his neck.
"Okay, we really need to go now," says Crystal, looking at her phone screen, "There is fashionably late, and then there is just being impolite, and I don't want to fall in the second category."
"Yes! Let's go! Halloween party, here we come!" cries Paris, grabbing her coat before running outside in the cold.
•·················•·················•
There are two kinds of people at our age. The ones who know how to party, and the ones who don't. The population of our school is carefully divided into those two categories. On one side, there are the ones, per lack of social status or by choice, who never took a sip of alcohol in their life. On the other side are the veterans, which are way too happy to show the first group what debauchery looks like.
I am unluckily part of the second category, which means that hijacking the show and downing rum and cokes in the kitchen is part of the fun, as well as making the newbies take Jell-O shots that they will be puking in the bathroom twenty minutes later.
It's always satisfying to see one of the Catholics stuck-ups get all dirty and drunk in the yard, dancing in a bra on the dining table and French-kissing a boy from the basketball team when she never even held hands with anyone before.
"I can't believe we did this," whispers Paris in my ear, "We created a monster."
"No way! Look at her, she will be thanking us," chimes Crystal at my side.
Eve Moore has her tongue down Michael Foster's throat and me and my friends are ogling the spectacle. She used to be disguised as Hermione Granger, with the wand and everything, but now her white shirt is somewhere in the pool and her nipples are poking through her lace bra, grey skirt riding up her waist as she straddles the guy with one socked leg to grind on him as the other boys of the team drool at the sight.
"She sure looks like she's having fun," I add, tilting my head to the side.
"So, can we say that I win?" asks Crystal, looking at us two with a devilish grin.
It's a game of ours, to bet on who will lose all control and be the talk of the school the next day. Crystal has a knack for it while I continuously lose. Tonight, I bet on Hazel, totally out of spite, and failed miserably because she's not even drunk yet. Disguised as sleeping beauty, she's sitting on the sofa near the door, patiently waiting in her pink dress, breasts spilling out of her corset.
If she thinks Taehyung will show up for her, she's wrong. He might show up, but it will only be to assess the level of chaos, have a good laugh out of the populace and leave. Him and his three musketeers have their own social agenda, and mere high school parties are too moronic for their status. Moreover, it's Halloween, which means they're probably somewhere having fun being up to no good.
"Where is Hoseok?" I ask, looking around.
"I'm right here," he announces from behind me, handing me a new drink that I down in a few gulps.
"Hey, not too fast," he tells me, "Your father will kill me if I bring you back tonight covered in vomit."
"Don't worry, he's sleeping already," I announce, sliding my arm around his waist.
I don't know if it's the alcohol or the costume, but I think Hoseok is particularly attractive tonight and I can't keep my hands off of him. I look up, smiling widely at his face and there is a soft worry in his eyes that makes my entire being hum with adoration.
"I'm fine, I promise. Don't worry about me, I know my limits," I chuckle, then cradle his jaw in my hand, running my thumb over his lower lip, "You look insanely hot," I announce, and he blushes, then rolls his eyes.
"Okay, now I know you're drunk."
"So are you!" I tell him and I can see it in his eyes that he's tipsy.
"I'm taking you home," he decides, and I pout.
"Why? It's only midnight?"
"I know but look around! You girls did such a good job, half of the party is already passed-out."
He's right. The music is still playing but people aren't dancing anymore, most of them already left, and the others are either sleeping on the couches or having sex somewhere on the second floor.
"Ugh," complains Paris at our side, "I wish I had a boyfriend to take me home."
"You have a chauffeur, it's so much better," argues Crystal.
"True," conveys Paris and the two of them laugh.
"You guys will be alright?" I ask as they giggle.
"Yeah, we have Paris' chauffeur!"
"Tonight sucks," I claim, "Once you know what a real college party looks like, those kinds of hangouts don't match."
"Cheers to that!" cackles Paris, downing a shot of tequila.
Hoseok takes my hand and I intertwine my fingers with his.
"Sorry for inviting you to those in the first place and ruining the fun," he announces.
"Are you kidding? Those parties are so far the highlight of my teenage years!" I tell him.
That and discovering abandoned tunnels and factories with the school's royalty.
"I second that," adds Crystal.
"I third that," asserts Paris.
Not soon after, I'm alone with Hoseok and he takes my hand as we walk home. There is something sweet in the air tonight that makes me want to stay close and I lean against his shoulder, closing my eyes.