by Chloe Smith
"You really can't have too many," Alice cajoled, her smile never faltering. "C'mon, you know you want one. My dad only buys the best."
"Seriously, I'm fine. I want to be sober enough to actually drive to the club, and then maybe I'll start getting drunk," Tristan replied.
"Well, come in, at least. I don't want you out in the cold while I finish getting ready," Alice rejoined.
Tristan couldn't find anything wrong with just taking a step in. And Alice was right; it was cold outside. Tristan nodded his agreement, and Alice walked back into her house and allowed Tristan to come in. Tristan shut the door behind him, but as soon as he was enclosed by the walls of the house, he wanted to run back outside. The hallway was dark and barely lit. He had an eerie feeling about this place. He wanted to just turn around and walk right back outside and crawl into the comfort of his own car.
"Right down there is the kitchen," Alice said, pointing in the direction of the back of the house. "I'm just going to go get my shoes and then I'll be ready."
Tristan started for the back of her house and made his way into the kitchen where he flipped a switch to turn on the light. And right there in the middle of the table located off to the side of the room were two cans of beer. Tristan chuckled and stayed completely clear of the incriminating cans.
Soon enough Alice entered the kitchen, and for the first time since Tristan had entered the house, he could actually see Alice. Her brunette hair was curled into flawless ringlets, and her makeup looked professionally done. But Tristan wasn't looking at Alice's face; instead his eyes had traveled down to her outfit. She was wearing a fire engine red, skin-tight, strapless, short, skimpy dress. Her full breasts were stuffed into the tight dress, looking as if they might pop out at any second. And as Tristan really eyed the dress, he noticed that what he had originally thought was a leather material was really snakeskin. She was wearing at least four inch, black, high heeled boots that rose past her knees and stopped a few inches below the dress.
"Ready?" Alice asked, smiling at where Tristan's eyes had gone to and been glued to for about a full minute now.
"Yeah," Tristan said, starting to head toward the door to head back out of the house.
"Are you sure you don't want any beer? It's really tasty."
Tristan was really tempted to say 'yes', but Kyle's warning entered his brain again. It was spiked. She had added some sort of drug to make him groggy. He knew she had done it. The smirk on her shiny lips confirmed her recent actions.
"No, I'm going to wait until we get to the club," Tristan turned her down for the third time tonight.
"All right, well, let's get going then."
Alice led the way out the house and towards the car that was waiting for the two teenagers. Soon enough Tristan was on the road, blasting the music through his speakers on its loudest volume with his top down, which was incidentally ruining Alice's perfect curls. He hadn't meant to do that, but he loved the roof down. And if Alice wanted to ride with him, then she was going to have to deal with getting her hair messed up. Even if he knew that she had probably spent hours on styling her hair, he needed the night's fresh atmosphere to help him cope with having her in his car.
Finally they made it to the club, Purple Palm Tree, and they waited in line. But Tristan had a trick up his sleeve. He made sure that the burly man who was admitting people into the club after looking at their IDs—fake or not—saw him and Alice walk properly to the end of the line. But then as soon as they were safe, Tristan grabbed Alice's hand and pulled her to the back alley where one lone, black door was located in the middle of the brick building. He sent a quick text to Kyle, and soon enough the black door—which was locked from the outside—opened, and Kyle stood there with a drunken smile and glazed over eyes.
"Finally the two—hiccup—most funnest kids in school have ARRIVED!" he bellowed into the pounding club. "Let's get this party STARTED!" Kyle said as he wobbled his way back into the club.
"It's way too damn early to get that drunk," Tristan mumbled to Alice.
Alice giggled, "Well, I don't know, I'm pretty sure getting drunk is an all day luxury."
"Sure, if you have a miserable life."
"Or if you just want to have fun. Well, lead the way, Trissy."
Tristan winced at the horrid nickname that Alice had been calling him for three years now. Even when he had confronted her about it back in tenth grade, she had still called him the horrible name 'Trissy'. He hated the name because she made it sound like she was talking to one her girlfriends, not the star football player.
Tristan pushed his way through the crowd of horny teenagers and drunken adults. When he was in the middle of the dance floor, hands suddenly wrapped themselves around his waist from behind. He turned around in the grasp of the feminine hands. He wasn't surprised at all when he saw Alice slithering her body up and down his body.
"Alice—" he shouted over the booming music.
"Oh, just chill," Alice shouted back. "It's not like I'm trying to drug you or anything. We're just dancing."
Tristan chuckled to himself as he heard her say the exact thing she was still probably thinking of doing to him, but he gave into her as her short dress began rising up a little, and his hands grazed her breasts. He allowed her to press her barely covered body against his own body. His hands wrapped around her waist, and their hips moved back and forth to the quick paced music in synchronization. Alice's back was pushed up against Tristan's chest. Suddenly Alice twisted around so that her chest was pressed up again Tristan's chest. Alice wrapped her arms around his neck and she hitched her leg up to hook around Tristan's hip. Tristan automatically caught her leg, his hand cupping around the back of her knee, and Alice grinded her hips against Tristan's.
Tristan didn't mind dancing with Alice. After all, it was just dancing, like Alice had said. And he didn't mind dancing at all. It was easy and natural to him. And dancing with a partner—preferably a partner of the opposite sex—was just as exciting. And when that particular partner knew how to dance the right moves and make the right steps at just the right times, it really got him going. So, before he knew it, he was dancing with Alice again. And again. And again. Eventually Tristan's forehead began to coat with sweat. After about the seventh song of a string of long remixes, Alice whispered in Tristan's ear, ticking his lobe, "Do you want me to get you a drink?"
"Sure," Tristan breathed, out of breath.
Alice smiled, "Great. Go find a seat, and I'll meet you there," Alice said and gracefully untangled herself from Tristan's body.
Tristan then began his slow process of pushing countless bodies out of his way, so that he could make it over to where the tables were located at the side of the club. Finally after a few minutes of battling against dancing persons, he made it to the spot where glass tables and sleek chairs were found. Tristan started making his way to an empty two seater, but then he noticed three girls he never would have guessed would be out at a club.
He couldn't really remember their names, but he knew they were best friends with Scarlett. They were the other three nerds that made up the brains of Watson High. He didn't know what pulled him toward the three girls. One of the three girls had boob-length black hair and easy brown eyes. She didn't have a bad looking body, but it didn't have the PA-ZAM that Tristan liked. The second girl had light brown hair that was about the same length as the first girl with green eyes, and she had a nice looking body as well. The final girl had blonde hair that reached about the middle of her back and blue eyes, but she definitely wasn't the prettiest of them all. She hadn't quite matured as much as the other girls and she still had a baby chin. Tristan inwardly chuckled as he thought of the blonde as the misfit among the misfits.
Instead of heading to the two seater table, Tristan made his way to the three girls and sat down in the last empty seat.
"Hello, girls."
"Beat it," the black-haired, brown-eyed girl said, without looking up from her cell phone. Damn, why were the nerds so feisty? Well, Tristan
couldn't say that he didn't like it. But he never would have expected these girls to look so good on the weekend. Every day at school they wore the ugliest clothes and hairstyles, but outside of school, they actually looked…hot. Tristan couldn't help what he thought, but it was actually true.
"Do you know who I am?" Tristan asked with a smirk. He knew the black-haired, brown-eyed girl's name. Jenna…Ginger…Ginny. That was it.
Ginny looked up from her phone, her eyebrow cocked, "Tristan Cox, the celebrity of Watson High, varsity football team captain, sophomore prom king, and A/B student, but he wouldn't ever let anyone know that because it would ruin his reputation and he might actually fit in more with the 'misfits'. Shall I continue?"
"How did you know that?"
"I stay after school to help grade papers sometimes for extra credit," Ginny answered. "The real question is do you know who I am?"
"Ginny?" The last syllable went up an octave, forming the statement into a question.
"Very good. Why are you talking to us?"
"I don't know," Tristan answered honestly. "I didn't know you were so…"
"Hot? Yeah, that's because we're modest in places where modesty should be. Example: school. But when it comes to clubs, we're just as skimpy as the rest of them," Ginny said.
"Where's Scarlett?"
"Oh, she's different. She's modest everywhere."
"Except the grocery store," Tristan mumbled, thinking back to this morning and remembering those shorty shorts she had been wearing.
"Well, today was laundry day at her place," the light brunette, green-eyed girl chimed in. Tristan knew her name too…it was something like Katie, or Kitty, maybe even Katy. Damn, what was it?
"You know with all of your hostility, I think you guys could make it as HH's," Tristan said. Well, all of you, except the blonde, he thought, but he would never say that out loud.
"Hostile Hotties? Eh…not our type," Ginny answered, without looking up from her phone again.
"You still didn't answer my earlier question: Where's Scarlett?"
"Stalker," The ugly blue-eyed, blonde coughed into her palm.
"I'm just wondering," Tristan defended.
"How is her where-a-bouts any of your business?" the Katie…or Kitty girl asked.
"I'm her lab partner."
"Oh, so you're wondering where she is, so you can ask her when she's free to work on the project? On the first Saturday the project was assigned. Do you take us for idiots?" the green eyed, brunette asked.
"Definitely not. You have to be the smartest girls in the school."
"Thanks for the compliment. But we don't need them from you," Ginny said with a smile.
"You really are hostile. I'm sure you'd fit in with the HH's pretty damn well," Tristan countered.
"Oh, I bet, but we don't want to sink that low to just fit in with that clique," the brunette—Kate!—said.
"Sink?" Tristan asked, cocking his eyebrow.
"Yeah. After college, we'll be the ones whom you call 'boss'. And if we lower our standards to fit in with the 'in' crowd, then we won't get a good education."
"Touché." Tristan threw up his hands in surrender. "Are you guys ever going to answer my question?"
"She's with her—"
"Meghan!" Ginny and Kate hissed at the same time.
"It's not like he's going to go find her or anything, so what's the harm?" Meghan, the blonde, shot back.
"That's her private life. You don't go telling the boy she most despises stuff like that." Ginny glared at the blonde with daggers that made Tristan's spine shudder in fear. She definitely had a way with her eyes.
"That's another thing. Why does she hate me so much?"
Ginny's, Kate's, and Meghan's mouths all dropped open, and their eyes all popped wider a little bit.
"What?" Tristan asked, taking in their expressions of shock. What had he said?
"You seriously don't remember, do you?" Ginny asked you.
"Funny, that's the exact same thing Scarlett said when we talked about it," Tristan said, rubbing the nape of his neck.
"Well, it isn't our place to tell you about it. The only person who can remind you of what happened three years ago is Scarlett, and only Scarlett," Kate said.
"Uh…Trissy?" Tristan heard Alice's voice from behind him. "What are you doing talking to these…oh, my God, are you seriously out in this club?" Alice finished by directing her sentence at the three girls.
"It's a public place; we're the public. You got a problem with that, Malice?" Ginny asked in the sweetest voice that Tristan had ever heard. It was so sweet that it really scared him.
Alice narrowed her brown eyes at Ginny. "I'll make sure you're life is a living hell for the rest of the year if you talk to me like that again." Alice spoke through clenched teeth.
Ginny stood up slowly, her eyes narrowing and glaring with all the malevolence in the world. "I'd love to see you try," she said with the corner of her mouth quirking up into a mischievous smirk.
"Whatever." Alice flipped her sweaty curls behind her shoulder and walked in the opposite direction.
Tristan turned around and looked at Ginny with new eyes. He never knew how well Ginny could stand up for herself and her friends. Tristan smiled at Ginny. "Nice," he mouthed to her.
"All in a day's work," Ginny said with a kind smile that Tristan couldn't believe was worn on the girl who had just made Alice, the most popular girl in school, look like an ant. With that said, Ginny turned on her heel and walked into the moving mass of dancing bodies before disappearing into the mass of people. Kate and Meghan followed suit.
Tristan turned around and joined Alice—Malice, that was a good one—at a table.
"What a nerd," Alice said as she took a gulp of beer that she had probably gotten by flirting with the male bartender—and in that dress, not even God could hold back.
"Huh, yeah," Tristan mumbled half-heartedly.
"Here you go," Alice said, passing Tristan the second beer.
And without a second thought, Tristan took a good, long gulp of his tasty beer. It tasted kind of funny at first, but after a good three gulps, the weird taste disappeared into the tasty goodness of the drink itself.
Chapter Four
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! Scarlett's old, loud alarm clock rang throughout her room. Without lifting her head from the pillows, Scarlett reached her hand out and hit the alarm clock several times even after she had hit the snooze button. Serves you right for being so freaking annoying, Scarlett thought as the old clock gave a creak from being hit so many times with such a strong force.
"SCAR! IF YOU MISS YOUR FIRST CLASS, YOU ARE GROUNDED FOR THE REST OF THE MONTH!" Okay, mother, first of all: Why are you up at six in the morning? Shouldn't you be in bed with your usual hangover? And second of all: It's November 28th, so if I was to be grounded for the rest of the month that would mean approximately three days.
"I'm getting up!" Scarlett half yelled, half yawned at her.
Five minutes later Rosa, Scarlett's mother, came into her room, making sure to turn the bright overhead light on as she came in, and pulled the covers off her daughter's body. "Get dressed, now," she said, throwing the covers on the floor.
Scarlett moaned, reluctantly rolling out of bed to take a much needed shower. As soon as Scarlett was out of the bed, Rosa fell face first onto the bed, and Scarlett heard her begin to snore.
The hot water from the nice shower felt soothing against Scarlett's aching bones. Scarlett had spent most of her weekend with Charles reading Dracula to him even though it was completely off Charles' usual schedule. She liked her visits with Charles because she could tell him anything, and he understood her, even though he could never reply with anything comforting because he either refused to talk or couldn't. Scarlett wasn't quite sure which. Scarlett did notice Charles's slight annoyance with anything being off schedule, but he seemed to push the emotion off to the side because he didn't mind Scarlett being there.
Last night Scarlett didn't get hom
e until eleven p.m., and she still had to finish that twenty-nine paragraph essay for Honors Spanish III about the Spanish Holiday: El Día de los Muertes, The Day of the Dead. And then she had to listen to the same, long lecture from her mother about getting home earlier to complete her assignments before her mother passed out on the couch.
But then her tired memory was jogged with the remembrance of something. Something about a black convertible and the smell of…oh, yeah…
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO FLASHBACK XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
Scarlett had gotten home at nine o'clock and tried to begin finishing her homework, but her damned mother had interrupted her work with her usual talk about scholarships. Once her mother had passed out on the couch, Scarlett couldn't concentrate. She needed to get out of the house. She was sick and tired of looking at the same piece of paper. She was sick and tired of thinking of school. She was sick and tired of being sick and tired. So, she took a small walk outside. She had grabbed her hoodie on her way out the door and she had been in the process of pulling it over her curly ponytail when she heard it. She heard the sound of a girly, ditzy giggle, and then a musky, low moan.
