The Flames In Mind 17 Chasing Parties || Part 1

I'm craving another coffee.

"Do you want to get back at Rennie or not?" I gimmick, turning the conversation around in order to not talk about the one thing I refuse to tolerate for the time being. Or ever. Getting here in one patch wasn't a problem, but getting here and seeing everyone's beady eyes dart between the new girl and I, in total scrutiny, I nearly blew a fuse. If it wasn't for oblivious party animals, my foot would've been in someone's a.s.scrack.

Lingering on the edge of my tongue and hoping the girl wasn't an idiot to knowing basic rules of a party, I walked away in haste searching for Bee, leaving the girl behind. Not trying to care for the fact I did something entirely ludicrous. But that's beside the point, the point is she's socializing.
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With Daleyza of course. And others.

But still, she's socializing.

It was not expected. I a.s.sumed she'd sit on the f.u.c.king couch sipping water. But no, she's socializing with Dal while drinking that clear pristine liquid— let me rephrase that, tossing her head back as she downs a shot of hard tequila.

Yep, sounds accurate.

At least a shot she poured. One shot, and none else so far.

As for Bee, a little hard to figure out what she's thinking but my money is on her being relieved. Maybe it takes a genius - that being me - to see Bee acting weird around her. It has only been this morning to now but it was enough for me to notice something.

Being strangely observant and overthinking this s.h.i.t isn't a nice remedy for either or. But I shake the idea away anyways just as Bee responds back.

"Aren't you going to meet up with Dennison again? I thought he'd be here already. Or is he being a basic 420 ho—"

"Oooooooh, just about to lose my mind, my mind, my mind, my mind..."

"d.a.m.n, Tiësto has never been more right in his life," Bee boasts with mirth, highlighting her 'Ms. Trippy Tipsy' alter ego. Ruckus thumping dangerously threatened the little cracks structuring the house party altogether. The music being loud is the least of my worries; the nice amount of clarity it gives to know no one can hear a word of our conversation.

I begin to get anxious, "I swear to G.o.d, if I find him high giving a girl a lap dance again, I will —"

"Hey Z, how's it bangin' so far?" With a sneer idling in my tongue, turning my head towards Bee is a misguided mistake.

Biting back the growl even harder from Bee's conceited askew sideways glance, I turn my head towards Rennie's in the direction of his thick m.u.f.fled voice. Taking in his curly greasy black hair, ruffled gray muscle shirt and maroon workout shorts, I nearly gag from the smell of strong liquor dancing around him when he put's his arm over my shoulder. I gag harder - visibly - from his sloppy, saliva filled and drunken kiss, he puts on my cheek.

Throwing his shoulder off, I lean away from Rennie. He interjects my movement of urgency and swoops his mouth right next to my ear husking our words he obviously ignored my choice I subjected earlier.

"Bonfire starts in twenty, you know where to meet us and by the way, that new girl, that— that's bangin'; since you didn't answer my question." Rennie stands up, his hand lingering on my shoulder for a second longer. He is almost percieving as sober when he did so without flailing any arms. He did, however, stumble on his footing before gaining his balance and smiles smugly at me, turns his head towards the new girl for a moment and then back at me; that stupid smile still intact.

As quick as a that, he disappeared amongst the jumping and the humping and the twerking crowd. I didn't realize I was practically holding my breath until Bee chuckles.

"I think you need to put a heating pad on your fist, it will relax the muscles. Or better yet, that scowl." Bee playfully jabs at my b.u.t.tons.

"You know, if it wasn't for our placement, I would've strangle you." I nearly growl whilist taking a quick glance towards the girl of my problems all day. And I still don't know her f.u.c.king name.

I sigh putting my thoughts aside, I came here to this f.u.c.king party to do one thing and one thing only. Get that video, and Rennie expelled.

Bee grunted and blew out raspberry, "Davina better not have been lying or else, what's the point," I know the question was rhetorical but I can't help getting triggered by the lack of sympathy in her voice.

I look at Bee, baffled.

"The point?" My voices raises a little which is barely noticeable from the loud EDM, "Beverly, she got f.u.c.king expelled for something that wasn't her fault," I hiss. "You of all people should know that by now. I know it's been a couple months since you last saw your ex but, jesus christ, show some repect," I blurt out in a ramble.

I wince, realizing my mistake. c.r.a.p, that was too harsh.

Bee glares at me sharply, "You don't know the meaning of respect, Zivali." Her icy voice sent a bone-chilling feel down my spine and a pinch of pain in the middle of my chest.

Before I could get the chance to apologize, Bee gets word out first.

"I need a drink; good luck," and quickly whisks herself away to the liquor cabinets near the kitchen, noticeably reaching for the thickly gla.s.s rectangular bottle dressed in fancy black labeling I recognize all too well.

Knowing Bee as well as I do, she won't talk to me nor help me for the rest of the night. I don't blame her but this ordeal is getting tiring. If Davina is even brought up once with or without malicious intent, lovely chatter-box Bee goes radio silent. Normally some people could get use to it, but I haven't.

Especially since her only solution is an orange-tan stinging liquid as a cleansing method. Quite obvious she's going to get p.i.s.sed-drunk again. For me? Maybe the verge, the steep hill, the edge of a cliff - sounds nice. Regretfully so, tonight's not the night.

Chugging the rest of my beer in my cup and grabbing another at the bar behind double doors, I finish it in a mere of seconds - a glowing buzz is gracing upon my toes and fingertips. Only then is when I take notice of how deserted the bar is. Since it's an extra room adjacent to the living room where a majority of the people are, it's hidden behind darken oak double doors. And only then, is when I realize I'm not the sole person in the room. Dennison is there, laying on a black leathered couch with half his body hidden, bushy red hair is poking out underneath the blanket.

No one in the school has literal red, blood red hair, in our school and town - besides Dennison. Believe me when I say I counted the amount of times if he was asked about being a vampire or had some sort of semblance with Twilight. Definitely more than red-blood cells. The only thing that could make him considered to be one is his love for sleep. He's also one of the two students in the school to have Heterochromia. One eye being green and the other being gray.

At least he isn't doing another lapdance, pantless and shirtless. Or isn't drowning in a Daniels.