by Anna B. Doe
“I’m Amelia’s mom, Holly.” She comes to us, offering us her hand in greeting with a big smile on her face.
Amelia introduces us to her mom, telling her I’m the guy who helped her around the first day when she had car problems, and we shake her hand apologizing for dropping in unannounced. At that moment, Brook decides to come out from hiding and rolls her eyes at me like she knows I’m full of bullshit and I can’t fool her.
“What brings you two around?” Mrs. Campbell inquires, looking between all of us.
When Amelia doesn’t jump to answer right away, and I see Brook open her big mouth on the other side of the hall, I cut her off quickly. “There is this party going on and we came to see if maybe Amelia,” I look over her shoulder, but don’t let my smile fall when I see Brook frowning at me, “and Brook would like to join us for a while. We just moved, and we don’t hang out much with other guys so it would be nice to see some familiar faces.”
Mrs. Campbell looks at Amelia, then switches to Brook before returning to Lia. If I didn’t know better I would think they are both her daughters. She looks at them the same way. “Why didn’t you tell me about the party before now, girls?”
Her question is followed by a pregnant pause.
Than Amelia sighs loudly, the dog barks, and Brook grits her teeth, ready to kill me.
Gotta love being surrounded by women.
Amelia
I take one measured step forward, crossing the doorway, and look around me, wary of what I’ll find. I’ve never been to one of Andrew’s parties before, and I’m just waiting for somebody to start pointing fingers in our direction, laughing and mocking us for even daring to think we’re welcome to step one foot inside his house.
My only solace is that Brook feels as out of her skin as me. Even more, if that’s possible, but I’m feeling too uneasy myself to pay a lot of attention to my friend right now.
On the other hand, Max is completely relaxed, talking to people we pass by, joking, and laughing. Jeanette’s her usual, moody self, walking behind her brother looking more bored than ever. Is there something that interests this girl?
The music is blasting so much that we heard it as soon as we parked a few houses down the street. It’s one of those popular club songs with a strong beat you can’t deny. You simply have to let your body move. It’s the one talking about drinking, dancing, kissing, and enjoying life. Not that I know much about clubs, but some things are hard to miss even if you’re bookworm closed in your own universe most of the time.
For the first time ever, I came this close to Andrew’s house. It’s more like a mansion than a house, built in the best part of the town. The one filled with rich and high class people, where houses are at least as twice as big as my parent’s house. Big yards are perfectly maintained, and long roads lead to round driveways with a fountain in the middle.
Once you pass the doorway you enter the hall, in the middle of which is a double staircase that leads to the upper floors. It looks old, but well preserved. For all it’s worth it could have been original from the time the house was built. Andrew’s dad has that kind of money, being a big ass lawyer and, if you could believe the rumors, next mayor of our town. A chandelier is lighting up the room, showcasing works of art on the walls and some figurines and vases that probably cost more than both of my parents’ six month salaries. Just passing by them makes me nervous. What if I accidentally trip and one of them falls? I’ll have to pay them back for the rest of my life.
Some people are sitting there, on the staircase, red solo cups in their hands. One couple is sitting in the shadows close to the top, lips locked in make out session so heated that it makes me look away in discomfort. Thankfully we don’t remain there for long. Max waves in passing to the guys close by and moves on down the hallway that opens up in what I assume is one big living room, but with furniture rearranged so that there is enough space to make a makeshift dance floor.
I simply stand there—in the middle of the doorway—and watch. It’s like a scene from movies or how you’d imagine one of those parties in the books I like to read so much to look like. It’s hard to believe there are so many kids in our school, but then again some look younger and some way older.
The light is dimmed, and it’s so hot because of all the bodies scattered around. People are everywhere. It’s hard to see where one person ends and other begins: girls and boys grinding on the dance floor, people sitting in one corner on sofas, guys playing video games, and some couples making out in the darkness. Red cups and food are on every flat surface imaginable.
The double doors that lead to the back terrace are wide open and a light is on outside because more people are there drinking and playing games.
“Are you going to move today?” Jeanette questions me, her tone so monotone that it would surprise me to see her awake in five minutes.
I don’t get it—if she wasn't interested in partying, why did she want to go in the first place, and why did she come to my place to bring me out of the house? Jeanette Sanders is one big enigma, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to understand her. Or more importantly, will she let me understand her? As far as I’ve known her, probably not.
“I’m just surprised,” I mutter and move from the doorway. Where should I go? I shift my weight to the other leg awkwardly. I’m seventeen, this is my first party and I feel like a fish out of the water. “I didn’t expect to see so many people.”
The look she sends me is a mix of confusion and pity. Like I need that. If I wanted to be some party girl I would have been one, but I don’t like parties and big crowds. They make me feel uncomfortable and uneasy. It’s not like I’m one of the popular girls with a bunch of friends waiting for her. My only friend is standing right next to me, looking a bit shocked and ready to bolt.
“This is a party,” Jeanette points out.
“You are one to talk.” Brook smirks. “You look ready to pass out, princess.”
I guess usual, sarcastic Brook is back. From the first moment they saw each other, the hatred was mutual. I don’t understand why. Maybe, because they are too similar to one another? There are probably better chances of hell freezing over than for them to become friends.
“Ohh, please. Like you goody-two-shoes know how to party.” Jeanette gives a smirk of her own, accompanied by an exaggerated eye roll.
“You are…”
“I see you three are getting along nicely.”
Right on time, Max sneaks behind us, his hands falling over mine and Brook’s shoulders, holding us to his sides. In each hand, there is a red cup filled with stinky liquid.
Beer.
“I got you drinks.” He offers cups to Brook and me. “There is not much to choose from so beer will have to do.”
I frown when the smell overwhelms my senses. “I don’t think so, Max.” Taking the cup from his hand, Brook shoves it into his sister’s hands. “You can have it, Jeanette. You are a big party girl, so you’ve gotta love some liquid courage.”
Jeanette opens her mouth, most likely to brush her off, but one look from her brother makes her narrow her stormy eyes at him and thankfully stops her from saying anything. I watch their silent stare-off go on a few seconds longer before Max looks down at me, a smile returning to his lips. “We can go and look for something else. I’m sure we can find a soda or something.”
Without giving me much time to protest, he takes my hand and starts moving through the crowd toward the kitchen. His hand is big and warm, cowering mine completely. His grip is strong, but without much force. It’s meant to hold me close to him and not hurt me.
The kitchen is state of art, like any other room in this house. Granite counters are full of stainless steel appliances, and there is a big island in the middle of the room filled with different kind of drinks and snacks. Two big kegs are in one corner of the room surrounded by people waiting for their beer.
Max’s hand lets go of mine as he goes looking for something to drink, leaving me standing in the middle o
f the room, carefully looking around, but in the same time hoping nobody sees me. For now, I’m doing a pretty good job. I think ...
“There is Coke, Pepsi, 7up …” Max’s voice drifts as he looks through the fridge.
“7up will be …” I turn around on my heels, only to crush in wide chest covered in soft, dark blue cotton. Hands land on my shoulders, stopping me from tripping or, more likely, landing on my butt.
The smell of pines and ice surrounds me, and instantly my heart starts kicking faster in my chest. I know whose hands are on me. I know to whom belongs the chest my nose is still touching and shirt my fingers are tightly crumpling. No matter how many guys play on our hockey team, only one of them wears the smell of ice around him like a coat. Winter or summer, it doesn’t matter.
Taking a hitched breath in, I let my eyes slowly move up, up, up ... until they are met with crystal blues.
We just stare at each other, not uttering a world.
His stare is intense. His eyes hold mine, but at the same, time I can feel them trace the lines of my face.
Then, a light chuckle breaks us out of the bubble. “Look at what the cat dragged in.”
Derek
I let her gaze leave mine, but my hands stay glued to her shoulders.
Connection, I have to have it.
The way her body calls to mine is unbelievable. There is no way I can resist the pull she has over me. If I believed in fairytales, I would say she cast a spell on me, but there is no such thing as witches, spells, and magic.
From the moment she entered the room, my eyes found her. Confused and lost, looking around like a child trying to put pieces of the puzzle that’s the world around them in its rightful place.
I let my eyes roam the room for a few seconds, trying to see it through her eyes. I can see how this environment can make one feel edgy and uncomfortable, especially if said person isn’t used to big crowds and parties.
Then my eyes return to her and stay glued there, watching how she shifts weight from one foot to another, how she’s playing with her fingers crossing and uncrossing them, how she looks between her friends, Brook and Sanders’ twin. She is hot, all long, lean legs and curves, sass and stormy eyes. If I was my usual self, she would be my kind of girl, but no matter how hard I try to avert my eyes, they always return to the girl standing in the shadows.
Just when it looks like there is going to be a cat fight, Sanders has to come and interrupt it. His hands are around Amelia and Brook like they belong to him. A cocky smile is plastered all over his arrogant face. They are all standing there, talking, but then Sanders takes Amelia’s hand and starts pulling her away.
I stand up from the couch I was sitting on in the corner of the room, and start after them. I’m furious. I don’t know at whom exactly, or why, just that I am. Maybe it’s at Amelia because even though I warned her, she still came with Sanders to the party. Or, maybe, it’s at Sanders because he’s putting his hands where they don’t belong. But the feeling is there, hot and ugly creeping at my insides, wanting to come out. There is no way I can just keep sitting there waiting for the two of them to come back. God only knows what he would do to her. I know what I want to do to her, and Sanders would be a fool not to want the same. However, Amelia is mine, and I’m not a guy known for sharing.
“You know, you have to stop doing this,” my best friend’s voice breaks into my fuzzy, rage-filled mind. Always looming in my shadow, that bastard.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” I deny, but my feet keep moving forward, chasing after her.
“Pff… Like hell you don’t. She’s messing with your head, man.”
He’s right, and I hate when he is right, but there has to be a way to get her out of my head. If Sanders didn’t sniff around her all the damn time, maybe I would be able to return to how things were before. She would be there, in the background, and I could be myself.
I enter the kitchen, Andrew hot on my heels, and stop when I see a blur of strawberry blonde hair just seconds before she collides with my chest, stunning me.
Her hands grip my shirt to steady herself. Fingertips grazing at exposed skin of my upper chest, just under the neckline of the t-shirt, cause a bolt of electricity to run through my body. They are soft and delicate, just like her. The air hitches in my lungs and the blood starts running faster in my veins.
“Look at what the cat dragged in.” Andrew chuckles lightly behind me. “Dotty, it’s nice to have you on one of my famous parties.”
In the blink of an eye, I return to the present moment. My hands are still gripping her shoulders, not giving her the opportunity to move an inch from me.
I want to hiss at my friend to stop being a dick and grow up. Name calling is so old school, but I guess Andrew didn’t get the memo.
“Ma-x …” she stutters uncomfortably, her eyes moving to the floor. “Max invited me.”
The first word that came out of her mouth is his name, and I hate it. The blood boils in my veins, but this time for completely different reasons.
“Ohh, I know,” Andrew declares, amusement loud and clear in his voice. “He told us so. Didn’t he, Derek?”
Her eyes connect with mine. They are warm brown with just a sparkle of gold, wide in surprise and bit of fear. Her lips form a little ‘O’, but nothing comes out of her mouth.
“7up, Lia?” Sanders shows up next to her, his fingers curling around her slender wrist to gain her attention.
I shoot him an annoyed glare. My hands trace the length of her arms until I get to her wrists, brushing away his hand. I don’t like him touching her. As a matter of fact, I don’t want him close to her or even looking in her direction.
“She doesn’t need it,” I take her hands in mine and start walking backwards pulling her behind me. They are calling for us to come back, but I don’t slow down.
If it’s even possible, her eyes grow bigger, but she doesn’t say a thing. I turn around so that I don’t crash into someone on the way, but don’t let go. Passing through the dark hallway, I take the back staircase, the one hardly anybody outside of the family knows about, and start climbing upstairs.
“Derek…” she whispers like there is somebody around who can hear us. When there is no answer from me, and we are already at the top of the stairs, she tries again: “Derek, stop! Where are you taking me?”
Her muscles are rigid under my fingertips, and the fact that she is trying to break away from my touch enters my brain.
I stop and turn around to look at her. There is no light in this part of the house, only the one coming from the street through the window, so I can barely see her shape in the darkness.
“I don’t want you near that douche Sanders, so we are going upstairs,” I mutter quickly and then I turn and continue on my way.
It’s like I’m obsessed. There is no other explanation. The only thing my mind can process is to take her away, not to give a chance to Sanders to touch her again.
Without giving it much thought. I open the first door and pull her inside before closing them with a loud thud and pressing her against them.
My hands still hold her wrists and I’m leaning into her.
Amelia’s sweet, fresh scent surrounds me as I whisper in her ear: “What did I tell you about the whole Sanders thing, little one?”
I can feel her shudder beneath me as my hot breath caresses the side of her face. From my peripheral vision, I see her looking straight ahead, her cheeks pink—in embarrassment? In need?—so I let myself close my eyes and breathe her in. Chances to have her like this, under me, almost at my mercy, are so few that I have to make the most out of any chance I get.
“I … he …” she murmurs softly, her voice trembling.
Opening my eyes I look down at her and watch as her cheeks become an even brighter shade of pink and how she nervously licks at her lower lip, only to softly bite it a moment later. I want to groan loudly when I feel my body react at her unconscious movements. “He … and Jeanette came. And, uhmm …
my mom and Brook were there … and he, kind of invited us. In front of her. My mom, that is. And then she practically kicked us out of the house. She was that excited. You would think she was the one going to the party. Ohh, but not before she made us go up and change. She said she wanted us to be pretty. Huh, like that’s possible. And now you are staring …”
I listen to her ramble; it is so unusual for her that I want to laugh. A hushed chuckle escapes me. “You are always pretty.”
“… at me and I’m blabbing like some crazy person. Why can’t … wait, what?!”
She looks at me, speechless. Her pretty pink mouth open wide and her pupils dilated. We are standing so close I can discern it even in the darkness surrounding us.
My hands slide up her hands, over her slender shoulders and pale neck, only to get lost in her wild, loose locks. Bending my head so that we are at the same level, I look her right in the eyes. They are sucking me in, like an endless whirlpool, and there is no escaping, no way for me to lie. So I do only other thing I can—I tell her the truth. “You are so damn pretty, little one.”
Then I can’t take any more of this torture so I crush my lips with hers. They are so full and soft against mine. I try to be gentle, but there is nothing gentle about the feelings she evokes in me.
She’s pure flame, and like her wild hair, she’s making me burn.
Amelia gasps in surprise, parting her lips and allowing me access. I slide my tongue into her mouth, slowing down a notch, and let my tongue meet hers and explore her mouth.
My hands are gripping her hair softly, holding her close to me. Her smell is overwhelming all of my senses. Groaning, I pull her closer into me, her body colliding with mine. Soft against the hard. I can feel her every delicious inch pressed against me.
Her hand comes between us, palms pressing against my chest. Changing the angle of our kiss, I caress her cheek and feel cool liquid under my fingers.
Slowly, like in a daze, I open my eyes and look at her. “What the …?”
