Unfamiliar Ceilings

So, as soon as Johnny had left, I asked my dad if it was okay for me to go, raced upstairs and jumped into the shower. I swear, it must’ve been the fastest one I ever took. Anyway, after applying some light make-up – foundation, mascara and Sleek lipstick in cherry red – I flung open my wardrobe and pulled out a loose-fitting, AC/DC vest/dress, which reached halfway down my thigh.

“Why don’t you wear your new dress lovey?” Stephanie asked, edging around the paint cans and the still wet tray with some clean towels for my bathroom, as I shoved my foot into my old, battered, black boots.

I shook my head. “Might be too formal.”

Stephanie just sighed and went on with putting clean laundry away at various intervals in my room. I heard the door bell ring downstairs and starting collecting the things I presumed I would need. In other words, I grabbed my denim jacket, my phone and some money. Stephanie called a goodbye to me as I rushed down the stairs to the front door, where my dad was standing and attempting a conversation with Johnny.

“Back by one, at the latest Leila,” Mark said, putting on some stern voice that really wasn’t his. “If you need a lift home, just ring me.”

I said my thanks and walked out onto the street with Johnny by my side. We went back to debating, criticizing and overall arguing about music, film and books. I didn’t really have enough time to be nervous. I mean, it was a strange house, belonging to a strange person, full of strange people that I didn’t know. I didn’t have a second to think “what if” about anything. I suppose that’s a good thing though, or I might’ve just turned around and gone home.

“We’re almost there now,” Johnny said, breaking out of our current conversation. I could see where “there” was, and I still wasn’t getting nervous. I just had this really, really small knot in the pit of my stomach. “There” was a huge house, just a bit bigger than Mark’s, with about seven groups congregating outside, with a cup, a cigarette or both in their hands.

Needless to say, I’d be sticking to my three rules for the night. Not that it’d be difficult. Johnny linked my arm through his so I didn’t get lost and started leading me through the crowds in the front garden, towards a black and white front door. It took us almost fifteen minutes to get there though, because people kept bustling over and greeting Johnny; the girls giving him a kiss on the cheek while the boys did that stupid boy-hug thing.

“How many people do you know, boy?” I laughed once we finally got inside. Johnny just shrugged his shoulders and told me he wanted to introduce me to the host, because he was a “decent bloke”. We were walking through a slightly smaller crowd of people in the hall by a set of wide stairs to the second floor, I could hear music coming from a room just to the right of the stairs; some insane mix of heavy metal and euro-pop.

There was a slight shove in the crowd ahead and Johnny was knocked backwards slightly into me, meaning I was knocked backwards too. Into a person. A person’s who’s drink promptly slopped from their cup and went all over the floor.

“Watch out where you’re going bitch,” somebody said. I craned my neck and looked at the girl behind me. She was taller than me, with ice blonde hair and a face caked in make-up and screwed up in a sneer. She was wearing higher heels than necessary, which dwarfed me even further.

“Fuck off, Jay,” another voice called to my right. I glanced over at the owner of the voice and felt my eyes involuntarily roll in their sockets. My night had officially been made, when Dean showed up.
Except not really.

“Oh, sorry, D,” the girl called Jay practically simpered. “I didn’t know she was your friend.”

Jay turned, after shooting Dean a sweet smile and giving me one last contemptuous snarl, and sauntered off with her friends in tow. I turned to Dean and saw him smirking at me slightly. I just rolled my eyes again and turned around to search for Johnny.

“No thank you?” Dean shouted near my ear. “Not very polite are you, Lei.”

I sighed heavily and turned back to face him. “For one, what am I meant to be thanking you for? For two, my name is Leila. Not Lei.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled. “Leila. I actually came over to see if you knew where our Johnny Boy went. Jake wants to say hi.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I came here with him, but I lost him just before you turned up.”

Dean laughed and held his hand out, motioning me past him. “Suppose we’ll have to look around for him.”

I looked at him, before walking. I knew he was right behind me the entire time, because whenever I’d stop, he’d bump into my back because of the sudden change. We spent twenty minutes searching the house for Johnny, before we found him in the kitchen, sitting on a countertop next to another boy with a can of beer in his hand. Dean overtook and made a beeline to them, I followed.

“See you found him then, Jake?” Dean laughed, giving the boy next to Johnny a “man-hug”. Johnny smiled at me and motioned for me to come over. I did so, standing awkwardly beside Johnny with my hands clasped behind my back, looking all around the room.

“So who’s your mate John?” Jake asked. I glanced at him and returned his smile. He held his hand out to me and said, “Jacob. Or Jake.”

I laughed and shook his hand, “Just Leila.”

“Nice to meet you Just Leila,” he winked. Dean had crossed to the other side of the room to get a drink for himself. He came back seconds later with a can of beer for himself and a glass bottle full of blue liquid, which he offered to me.

“I don’t drink,” I said, declining the bottle. Dean just rolled his eyes.

“It’s not going to get you drunk.”

Johnny nudged me lightly in the back and smiled. I – somewhat reluctantly – took the bottle off of Dean, after he popped the cap off of it for me. I took a tentative sip, then another. It was sweet, fruity, with a slight burn as it went down my throat. I decided I didn’t mind it.

“Fancy playing Hot Dog?” Jake said, his voice only slightly risen to the music playing from separate speakers to the other room. He glanced at Dean, who smirked in response. I looked back at Johnny, to see that he looked just as confused as I felt.

“Hot Dog?” I asked, taking another sip at my alcopop. Jake nodded and jumped down off the counter, going to the fridge beside where he’d been sitting.

“Basically,” he said, leaning into the fridge. “Hot Dog is a song, by Limp Bizkit. Each player has three cans each, and you drink it whenever Fred says the word ‘fuck’.”

Jake had placed twelve cans onto the countertop where he had been sitting and smirked at all of us. I jumped up next to Johnny and laughed, “I think I’ll sit this out.”

Dean’s head whipped around to me, and he said, “Oh no, you’re playing.”

“Why would I?”

“Too afraid?” he smirked. I narrowed my eyes at him, before rolling them. I turned to Jake.

“Throw one of those this way.”