Sushi - Sushi was the reason that Erin Lawson was screaming loudly over the phone acting like something horrendous happened- like she just got back some test results that stated that she actually was three-months pregnant.
But she wasn't.
And to me the only reasons you should be yelling loudly over a phone-call in the presence of other people was if you received one of the following. A: Got back some test results that stated you were positive for pregnancy, as I stated before, or you gotten back an another positive result that stated you had an STD. B: A love one has died. Or C: You, for some reason, found out that you are related to Jeff Bezos and you now get a share of his fortune. And then I'll probably find a way to follow you to his house and proceed to rob him of all of his gold silverware.
Otherwise, what was the point in yelling in front of others?
But by the looks of it- Erin Lawson did not care one bit that she was yelling in the presence of others. Yelling about sushi.
According to google; sushi was a traditional Japanese dish prepared in vinegared rice (also referred to as shari or sumeshi), and was usually coated with some-type of sugar or salt. This dish would be accompanied with all types of ingredients- wavering from: raw seafood to vegetables.
Now how could that mouth-watering dish make anyone upset?
I'll explain it- the sushi was supposed to arrive here an hour ago. The party would be starting in about 30 minutes and our main dish was no where to be seen. So- what's the word for a party planner demon? Kind-of like bridezilla, but in party planner form? I'll just say PartyZilla. Erin was acting like a Partyzilla; she wanted everything spotless, perfect and in order for her boyfriend's birthday.
And I couldn't be mad at that. But I could inform her of her loud tone. Talk to her about lowering her voice on the phone when she was in the presence of other humans - since the party serves, waiters, and workers were looking at her like she had grown two demon horns and a fiery tail.
I would want her to do the same for me if I ever became in that situation- to calm me down so I won't be named Partyzilla Part two.
That got me thinking. . . Would Vance want me to thro- wait.
Why the fuck was I thinking about Vance when I thought of throwing someone, aka: a boyfriend, a party? When during the whole ride over here. . . he hadn't said a single word to me. And I threw many sentences his way. Well, aside from a 'put your seatbelt on' was spoke on his end but I'm not counting that as a conversation. It wasn't a conversation- it was a legal requirement that you had to do when you were in a car and he just reminded me to do it. My mind was confuzzled at that moment - when I entered his car; taking in everything.
Pause. Nope, nope, no my nose was growing more inches by the day (my nick-name could no longer be Honest Abe) because I lied. My mind was still confused. I stayed confused. Off the rails. Forgot what was left. Forgot right. Forgot how to hopscotch. Forgot how to tie my shoes. Forgot how to put on pants- do you slide them over your head? Over your arms? Left or right first? Shit - I forgot, that I forgot that I didn't know which way was left or right. So, up or down?
Fuck that. I didn't even need to know how to wear jeans at the moment anyway- I had on a dress. A dress that made a feel sexy. A dress that exposed my dazzling legs. My legs that were practically on fire from the looks that Vance was giving them.
I was standing near one of the doors - prepared to pull Erin out with me and discuss to her about her over excessive yelling - leaning against the wall while Vance was stationed in the left corner, in a booth. Yes! My common sense was back and better be here to stay.
Vance sat in one of the booths- watching. Staring at- me. Staring at my exposed legs, exposed arms, exposed face. And I knew the very second when his eyes would switch down to different parts of my face or figure because his gaze was- burning me. Up. Down. Side to motherfucking side. His gaze had that much power that if he were to cock a finger up and mouth a 'come here' my heels would be thrown down on this very floor and not even Florence Joyner herself could beat me to claim that prize.
Luckily, that would not be happening. I am making a promise to myself - this very second - that Vance would not be getting a piece of me.
He could look all he wants but not one finger of his would end up on my body. Not a sliver. Tonight- I wanted to get fucked. (Not by Vance) Be worshipped. (Not by Vance) Baptized- Internal wink. (But did I mention not by Vance?) Today and so forth I was going to be purging myself from Vance.
Vance hasn't wasted a breath on me so why should I waste my time on him? No, he didn't necessarily have to talk about what has happened and confess some 'lovey dovey' shit- but sometimes, a girl wanted a compliment. A conversation. Something. All these months, all we have been doing is looks. I thought that maybe since the incidents had happened something had changed- but, nope it was still the same thing with Vance: No talking and with his hands down my pants.
I don't know. . .but it irked me. I wasn't asking for a lot. I didn't want to keep doing stuff with someone who didn't want to compliment me or even offer me a simple hello. I wanted to be the one someone chases- not me doing the fucking chasing, all the time. I wanted someone to walk up to me, say my dress was the most amazing thing they ever seen and ask me for a dance.
And Vance didn't look like he was going to be uttering those words anytime soon.
I turned my body toward Erin, ignoring a certain chef's stare, and she was coming off from being on the phone, while light cusses spewed out from her mouth. I heard a series of: fucking annoying, I'm so fucking pissed, and shits. I followed her as she went to the bar, to try calm her down, and we both took seats on some stools. I offered her to accompany me in drinking some water so she can really calm down- she accepted my request and we slipped into a calming conversation. Me asking what happened and offering her a solution on how we could fix it. Jett appeared a second later but he was not alone - two other fellas were with him. Oh, a little earlier to the party don't you think? I found out their names were Marcus and Andre. Interesting info.
Andre found a new place to talk from- the seat that was right next to me. He ordered himself a drink and offered to buy me one. I thought it over. . .should I? Wait- this is what I wanted. An easy one night stand with a stranger. Well, Andre was not really a stranger, but I doubt I'll see him again. He looked like a chill guy. Attractive. Cute. I wouldn't get attached, no hard feelings- just two people in need for some comfort.
I could do this.
***
I couldn't do this.
It's been two hours- and I don't know. . .but I'm drowning. Well, not in this conversation for sure. Andre has been talking non-stop. Talking about sports, foods, work, anything and everything. Himself mostly. I lost track. All I saw was his mouth moving but no words were comprehending into my head.
Think of the most talkative person you know, mine was Jimmy big ass mouth Fallon, and double it by a hundred: that's Andre for you.
I should've gotten drunk. This would've been much more interesting, easier if I was drunk. Too bad I had to be on birthday party lookout. No punching, no stealing food, and no men near women's purses- I was the lookout, on the motherucking clock. While my partner, on this lookout, was babbling into my ear. Need a new one chief. I bet he would be fucking talking during a stakeout too.
My eyes traveled behind him, a little to the left, searching for a certain booth and landed on my culprit- Vance. His legs were slightly opened and he was leaning against the booth's back cushions, drinking some champagne. Dammit, he was fucking guilty for looking fucking hot and he needed to be escorted off the fucking premise quick before I go over there and declare that he needed to eat me out. Cue the Judge's gavel: 'Vance you are guilty and have been appointed for life to eat River out; every week until the day you die. If you have good behavior, I'll appoint her to accommodate you too.'
Fair ruling juge.
It was crazy that he was still in the same spot, for two hours- drinking the same bottle of champagne and just staring. Sometimes on his phone though. But most times just starting. Not at me though. I could tell when he was- one way was because I have been taking several glances his way and he hadn't met mine and another way was that I could feel it when his eyes are located on me. Little tingles would find their way all over me and shoot down, way down to my dick-please-enter-here center.
So yeah, I would know when his eyes would land on me. His eyes would feel like spotlight. A bright section shinning on you; where his gaze would be blazing through. A harsh, intense light exposing all the grit and all your needs- Like how I felt now. You'll start to shift in your chair- like how I was. Crossing your legs, fiddling, as you felt an intense sensation plunge, circle down below- like how mine did. You'll take a sip of your drink, wetting your throat- like how I did. And when you saw his gaze drop down to your lips - like how he just did - you'll dance.
You'll fucking stanky leg on the dance floor.
Like how I'm about to do right now. But, minus actual stanky part. I'm dancing on this dance floor because I made a promise to myself- Vance would not lay a finger on me. And it was a promise that I was going to fill-full. I quickly got up from my seat - startled Andre for a second - and attached my hand on his shoulder and dragged him to the dance floor.
I couldn't handle Vance's gaze and what's a good way to avoid it? Fucking dance.
When we landed toward the outer shell of the dance floor, I let his hand go. Dammit, now I'm thinking that maybe we should've just moved to a different spot or something. I can't fucking dance. Apparently, Andre had a different idea. He grabbed my hands and led me more toward the center. One of his hands positioned themselves on my chin, angeled my face up to look at him, while the other one rested on my hip. One thumb twitched back and forth against the silk fabric of my dress. He bent down and whispered into my ear, "You look so sexy right now."
So an hour ago I looked ugly?
Shut up.
Okay, yeah I was being annoying. Then I found myself wondering. . . Why was I being extra when this was what I said I exactly wanted? I said I wanted to go out on the dance floor and wanted someone compliment me on my outfit. Andre was doing exactly that. Everything exactly on my Purging-Vance list. Then why the fuck was I not going with it? Why did I want to escape right now out of his hands and run into the hands of Vance-
Vance - the man that looked like he was going to murder someone- slowly. I bet he was the type that liked to work with his hands. Snapping necks, headlocks, chokes, or maybe. . . the slice of his knife. I imagined his knife slowly dragging across one of my nipples, the sharp tip circling over my areola, teasing - suddenly, they sprang at attention. Oh shit. . was I really getting turned on thinking about Vance acting like that?
I needed to bath myself in holy water. Regularly.
Vance's hands tightly gripped around his bottle as he bit down on his bottom lip. His intense gaze was transferred to the hands that were located around me. Two hands that were attached to a body that I forgot the name of. Dammit. What's his name again? Arn- No Alle- No- Andre. Andre's hands were now attached to both of my hips as we swang back and forth swaying to the music. What the fuck? I was moving?
Whats-his-face leaned his head in close, down again, and spoke back into my ear, "Hey are you good?"
I was about to nod my head and inform him that I was fine but then I paused-
My steps paused. My eyes paused on the scene in front of me. They were taking in the scene at hand- Vance's new companion. A fucking lady companion. A lady was greeting Vance. Jealously took me by surprised and hit me quick in the stomach- like a spiked ball. I never thought of Vance and other women. Oh how dumb could I be. . . Of course he was going to have women looking at him. Gorgeous women too- like the one that was present now.
Other Women and Vance? Vance and other women? I didn't want to connect the dots. I didn't want those things to intersect.
Too bad. My mind wasn't giving me break. But it was right - it was too bad. It was too bad that the women looked like some kind of red-hair goddess. It was too bad that when she sat down in the booth- he didn't protest or make an unpleasant face. And it was too bad that I was already on the dance floor dancing with someone else. Everything was fucking too bad.
Some human asked me if I was okay again and I think I replied and murmured out something about me going to the bathroom. I moved my legs forward, straight past the happy couple, and landed inside the bathroom. My hands gripped the outer shell of the sink and I brought my head up, to stare at myself in the mirror.
Reality check: River, you are here for a birthday party - Jett's birthday party. You don't care that Vance has someone with him in his booth. We are not dating, we are not friends, we are nothing. You want Andre right? Right?
Some minutes passed by, then I really started to believe it. I had to give myself a minute, to get over the shock- but now I'm good. Real fucking good. I slapped my hands down on the sink for a one-time confirmation and brought myself back out.
I opened the door and was bright-sided by a cake. The cake that I made. I mean, me and Vance made. The cake had some sort of lighters coming out from the top. Who did that? Cool touch. I made my way over to the main table and saw that most of the guest were equally here. Dammit, I almost missed the happy birthday song. I caught Erin's eye and saw that she was gesturing me to come up closer. I squeezed past some people with excuse mes coming out left and right, and made my way to her. She made room for me to be in the front with her and Jett, by schooing over. We watched front and center, as Jett blew out his candles and all different types of party sounds came out into the air. A big banner was also brought out. Erin went on her tippy toes and kissed the life out of Jett after he cut the first slice of his cake. And I was jealous. Don't get wrong- not jealous of per-say the individuals but how they were together.
Recently, I found myself envious of their relationship. I was envious of their close-bond, their little touches, their special kisses. I wanted that- I wanted someone to share it with. A small smile grazed itself on my face as I took in the couple. I snatched E's phone and angled it up toward them, and snapped a picture.
A couple of hours went by - during those hours I was either: dancing, eating, or talking to the other guest but, now I was positioned on a bar stool. Alone. Andre did not come back to find me and I didn't sweat it. I thought I did want him, but things change, feelings change. Aka: I found him humping on some other girl on the dance floor. Anyways, the crowd was dying down, people were leaving, and half- no more than half of the food was gone. Luckily, I already stuffed myself with cake.
So, here I was- on a random bar stool with an empty cake plate staring at the leftover party attendees. Again alone.
Vance was too. Alone.
I bet the women got my he's mine mental messages. Before she did leave, now I will admit. . . not glaring, not starting- but I was glancing at the couple in the booth every now and then. Just simple here and there looks. And what I was looking at surprised me. Vance wasn't doing much talking as Merida (new nickname- hence the red hair) but he was engaged with his eyes. And I- I didn't like it. I was tempted to stick my Official-Party-Security badge on and demand that she needed to be escorted off the premise and back to her home: A Scottish forest Kingdom with her bear ass mom. But I held my tongue and reverted my gaze.
Now though- I was fine. He was alone. I was alone. I can almost hear the flush sound as my promise went down the drain. Stupid ass promise anyway. Well, one part of my promise could still be accomplished- he's not going to touch me anymore.
He's not going to touch me in the car, as he drops me back off to the apartment. He's not going to touch me, as he walks up with me to my door. He's not going to be invited in - to touch me. He's not going to touch me at all.
I repeat: A stupid ass promise.
***
What the hell. . .this whole chapter had only two sentences of dialogue LMAO. Welp I didn't even notice.
Anyways, thank you for reading!