The boy across from me stared. And stared. And stared right at me without saying a word. We had been sitting here for a good half an hour now and still he hadn't said a word. This had to be my worst date ever. In fact, this had to be the worst first date in the world. Ever. And would be forever.
I was out. I was gone. I couldn't deal with this anymore.
'Excuse me, I'm just going to go to the loo quickly.' He looked up from my cleavage to my face for the first time since we sat down and he nodded, but he still didn't say a word. I jumped out of my chair and practically sprinted to the loo, or walked as quickly as I could in my heels without falling over. I passed a couple of tables, including one with two people clearly on a date. A date that was going much better than mine and reached the loos. A quick glance over my shoulder revealed my date now staring at my bum. Quietly, I gave a wry laugh, why did I always have dates like these? Maybe it was partly my fault – my dress and my reputation probably encouraged it. Clearly, I couldn't use the back exit if he was watching me, so I decided I had to use the loo window – not ideal, but I'd escaped through worse.
Being Colette Huntingdon was not always as easy as people thought. I was... famous. My parents were influential, I was friends with all the right people, and I was wild, unpredictable. I guess that's why people, specifically the press followed me: they were waiting for the next Colette drunk episode, they were waiting for me to strip in public or to rob someone. I was so used to the press following me by now that I know the back exits to just about every single restaurant, shop and bar in Kensington. I sort of have a reputation as a... slut, that's why I always end up with dates like this, they're only here to get laid. The dicks.
I yanked open the door to the loos. His desperate gaze was finally off me. Not that that would stop him, he would probably start perving on some other poor girl in the restaurant. I looked around for a window, any window and spotted one the just about low enough for me to clamber out of. I pushed open the window, lifted a leg up and out and used the momentum to pull the rest of myself out. Unfortunately, I misjudged the distance and fell. Right into a pile of garbage bags. Great, just fantastic, exactly what I needed to make this evening truly awful. I needed to go to a bar and drink the remainder of this awful evening off. Unfortunately, I can't because my parents are home and I will be in deep shit if I come home pissed. It's not like they're particularly strict, they care more about their reputation but me coming home drunk risks neighbor's seeing me and telling people. Which will start a rumour and that is what my parents will be so angry about. I don't normally care what my parents think, but I'm supposed to be going back to school in a few days and I would really like it if they let me go – they know not letting me go to school is more of a punishment for me – school for me is different than for most people. For starters, it's a boarding school. Anyway, my head was already spinning from the amount of champagne I had on the date so it was probably best not to drink anymore this evening.
'Daniel, can you come and pick me up? I'm round the back of the Coda restaurant.' My driver quickly agreed and arrived a few minutes later. A few minutes that I spent skulking around, hoping not to be noticed by the boy I left or by any members of the press, on duty or otherwise.
He pulled up in our sleek black range rover. It may look a bit second rate compared to some of the flashy cars you see, but my father paid to have it kitted out with all the best, and besides, I didn't need a flashy car that would make people pay more attention to me. I hopped into the car as gracefully as I could considering that only a few minutes ago I was lying in a heap of garbage.
'Can you take me home please?' I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. My parents disliked me at the best of times, so every time I came home when I was even a bit tipsy, they always had it out for me. Which is why I didn't want to go home.
'Of course miss, if you're sure that's where you want to go' He looked at me in his mirror, he tried to make it seem like he was just giving me a quick glance, but I knew he was making sure I wasn't joking. It's not normal for me to be home by 10:30 any day of the week, I usually stayed out until the early hours of the morning, or sometimes only came home at lunch the next day if I've found a man suitably charming and fit to spend the night with. I avoid my house, and my parents, as much as I can. I often drink before family dinners to take the edge off the incessant jabs that come at me from every direction.
I sighed and slumped back in my freshly cleaned leather seat, my dress rode up, but I didn't bother to pull it down – why should I? I'm Colette, a slut. Many boys don't realize that I hear them, or they don't care that I can hear, other boys think it's funny, most adults, especially my parents, think it's shameful and blush whenever they hear that word associated with my name. It's one of the many reasons my parents are ashamed of me and one of the many reasons why they sent me to Bartons – to get rid of me. A few times I have heard a boy mutter as I've passed them in my provokingly short skirt 'You know, I've heard that if Colette won't sleep with you then you're probably going to be a virgin for the rest of your life.' If I was truthful, it was partly my fault – I did wear clothes and act in a way that invited it, but that didn't give everyone a right to slut shame me constantly. My irritable thoughts continued for the short trip home and by the time we got there I'd managed to work myself into a fizzling temper.
'Here, miss. We're at your house.' I nodded and wearily thanked him before stumbling over to the door. Luckily for me, it was unlocked which meant that I didn't have the explain to Them that I forgot my key again. I pushed open the dark blue-grey door, shut it and then proceeded to lean against it whilst I took a breath. The staircase spun slightly. How many glasses of champagne did I drink on the disaster that was supposed to be a date? Probably too many, I think I drank to make up for the silence. A figure appeared in my vision.
'Colette. Are you drunk again?' I groaned, I couldn't deal with Luke and his bloody mocking right now. Unfortunately for me, his raised tone did precisely what he intended it to do – my mother appeared.
'Honestly Colette. Can you not conduct yourself with the refinement of your brother? Must you insist on coming home drunk or hungover every night? It's rude and frankly, disgusting. And you wonder why we are ashamed of you – my friends think...' I evaluated the situation, a brother waiting to get me in trouble and a mother ready to scold and lecture. I couldn't be arsed to deal with this tonight, not now. I shuffled towards to staircase, and for once, they didn't follow me.
*****
The lights. The lights. Too bright. I groaned as I realized where I was and why the lights seemed so bright and then groaned again even louder as I realized I was still in my heels, still in my dress and my makeup was smeared all over my face and pillow. Rolling over, I pushed a switch and the lights turned off, then I stumbled towards the window and shut the curtains. Finally, blessed darkness.
After my shower, I dressed in a simple yet fashionable short skirt and a striped blazer. There was no point wearing something like jeans because I knew my mother would take one look at me and send me straight back upstairs to change. Despite jeans being comfy and have the ability to look cool and chic, they are denim. And my mother hated denim with no exceptions – it was not posh enough for her; if Versace hardly uses then it isn't good enough for my mother. Then I took the dreaded route down the stairs to where I knew my mother was. Waiting to scold me.
From the outside, our house was clean, the window boxes perfectly colour coordinated and was a generous size for a house in Kensington. However, on the inside, it was a glittering, opulent museum displaying my parents' wealth. Everything from the carpet to the curtains, the sideboards to the sofas was put together with meticulous care, there was not a cushion out of place and no expense was spared. Unfortunately for me, this meant that although the house looked lovely to visitors, I was not allowed to sit anywhere or move anything ever in the worry it would destroy the perfect look. On the ground floor, we had a lavish open plan, marble floored kitchen-living room. Under the staircase, there was a small loo and sink. On the first floor, we had 4 bedrooms, each with an attached en-suite. As I walked down the staircase, my mother's voice and tinkling laughter drifted towards me. Thank god, finally something has gone my way – if my mother had a friend over, she would not get angry because she would be worried about shattering the perfect family front she was so desperate to present to her friends and everyone else.
I trudged towards the island in the centre of our kitchen on which there is a platter of croissants, a tureen of fresh fruit and a pot of tea that Maja, our maid, must have set out this morning. I grabbed a pain au chocolat and a mug of tea and made to head out the door when my mother's voice again floated towards me.
'Colette, would you come in here for a moment and say hello please?' The way she said it makes it sound like a polite request to her friend, but I knew that it was actually a command. And if I didn't listen, there would be hell to pay later, so, I sighed and walked towards the sofas where my mother and her friend were sitting indulging in coffee and macaroons.
'This is my friend, Maureen, remember I told you about her? She's re-doing the interior of our house' I gave her a tight-lipped smile and nodded my head. Why was my mother re-doing our house again? It was re-done only a year ago and still looked pristine. Maureen made to say something, perhaps a polite greeting, or maybe a more serious discussion about whether my skirt is too short (you never know with my mother's friends) but I rushed out the door before any comment could be made. I was too hungover and didn't have enough patience to deal with my mother and her simpering friend right now.
Hey guys! I'm assuming no-one's going to read this but I've been bored over the past few days so i thought it would be fun to try and write a book.
If anyone does read this, i hope you enjoyed it :)