A Summer Fling Turned Upside Down..

Ever woken up to the feeling of being entirely dry inside and out? As if, if you moved an inch, you would crinkle like paper. Stiff and wrinkled. That is exactly how I felt when I awoke. Unfortunately, when I opened my eyes, no sun blinded me. As I glanced at the digital clock sitting on my night stand, I realized I had only been asleep for a few hours.

Begrudged and dehydrated, I set out to find the kitchen.

I expected to be consumed and confined between plaster and marble leading to no-where. Then again, this was only a flat; not a mansion residing on the edge of a mountainous cliff.
Soon I had entered the kitchen, just a hallway from the staircase.

Since my eyes had adjusted to the minimal lighting coming from the streets of New York, I could faintly make out the outlines of all of the kitchen appliances. I zeroed-in on the refrigerator, effortlessly bypassing the counter and the spotless floor.

Rummaging through the organized confines, I found no signs of a water bottle. Yet, in the very back, I found a tall, cylinder, glass container, with a sharpied sign that read "Do Not Drink!". Of course, it being three o'clock in the morning, this message didn't quite register to me.

As I took a sip, with the cold liquid touching my lips, I began to process the acid that was entering my mouth. Quickly, I ran to the sink and spat, practically vomiting in complete revolt.

I heard laughter. Not light laughter either, but hysterical cackles.

A light switched on, blinding me. When my vision readjusted, I saw someone walking out from the shadows and into the kitchen. I quickly glared, "What exactly are you laughing at?"

"You. Obviously." the male smirked, leaning against the marble counter. He knew I had no reply. "The bottle did say 'Do Not Drink' for a reason, you know."

"What is it?" I asked, peering curiously at the glass bottle that I had set on the counter top. He leaned over a little, grabbing the bottle in his calloused hand and taking a large swig of it.

"Vodka," he grinned when he was through.

Drinking was obviously frowned upon for high school students, but every adult knew that some participated. Parties were a usual occurrence, especially during the major holidays. Although I always attended the gatherings, I wasn't a heavy drinker. Liquor was tasty, but I could only tolerate so much. Vodka, such as other hard liquors, I could not handle.

I inwardly gagged as he took another large gulp, enjoying the burning sensation.

"So you're Isabel," he finally said.

I nodded, "And you must be Daniel," I gathered.

Almost too quickly, he corrected me. "Danny. Only my father calls me Daniel; with the exception of your mother," he added.

It was silent as he paced about the kitchen aimlessly. I took this time to get a proper look at him. His attire was the least bit sleep-ware. He wore khaki slim-fit slacks, with a white button-up. His shirt was un-tucked and his top buttons were busted open. Disheveled masses of blonde lay atop his head, and his eyes were screaming lack of sleep and too much to drink.

"What are you doing up?" he suddenly asked, I suppose finally looking at the clock.

"I could ask you the same thing. Have you been out?" I giggled triumphantly.

"As a matter of fact, I have. Now what's your excuse?"

"I was only thirsty. Unfortunately, this place lacks simple water."

Smugly, he walked over to a cabinet resting beside the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of water.

"Thank you," I blushed. We fell silent again, both staring in different directions of the grand kitchen.

"So, what time did you get here, Is? Can I call you Is?" Danny chuckled.

"Sure," I said, confusion lacing every letter. "I got here a little after dinner," I said in reply to his first question.

"If only Marley would have mentioned sooner. I would have thrown you a 'Welcome Party'. By now, you would have known everyone in the Upper East Side."

"Perhaps that's the reason why my mother didn't say anything. A party that doesn't revolve anything about me, is always a better one."

"Oh hush now. You're never welcomed properly until you get people drunk and catered to."

I giggled, "It sounds like you would know."

"You are exactly right. I do know. I'll convince you soon enough," he grinned. "Goodnight Is."

Before I could say another word, Danny had already fled the kitchen and up the staircase.

So that was Daniel Cross, I thought to myself. Handsome, witty, charismatic, and quite a catch. This made me wonder, if he took after his father. I could never know until I found out. Would these men accept me into their lives willingly?