Plastic Stars

My spinning head was starting to feel heavy, and my eyes were suddenly starting to drag and blur everything I struggled to stare at. My mile-long legs were starting to shake, feeling like elastic, and my feet weren't able to be put one in front of the other without stumbling into the vibrating wall. I could feel red bull and vodka pumping through my veins, and I couldn't stop twitching.

The dark living room, it was really just a vessel used to hold the sea of rambunxious teenagers between the ages of fourteen and nineteen. The carpet was only used to soak up the booze spilled from plastic red cups and the open space was only used to dance and degrade ourselves even further. The thin, warm air was used to pass on the booming sounds of the stereo system from ear to ear, setting the mood for trouble.

As swollen red eyes lcoked with mine, I would look away as fast as I could and shuffle away, my fingers gripping my own plastic boat of whatever would make me feel better. Whatever it would take to make me forget what was happening and even put my head in a toilet bowl, it didn't matter.

My beautiful queen was locked away upstairs with a drunk boy between her spread legs, and I was feeling more alone than ever as my heels just kept dragging across the stains on the carpet.

There was a joint being passed around a circle of drowsy kids sprawled on the floor and couch, a haze of smoke bluntly surrounding the pot heads. As my three inch heels twisted, I gently collapsed next to a boy breathing like a dragon, a heavy huff portecting his features.

He glanced at me, then blew straight into my face, deviously smirking when he said hello. I stared into his bloodshot eyes for a moment, temporarily spacing out, and then I tried to smile back, mumbling an introduction. He leaned forward on his knees that were clothed in denim, and purred, "I'm Marc."

Grinning through my intense head ache, I slowly set my plastic red cup on the coffee table beside us, instantly producing a ring of condensation. As my fingers finally uncurled, we both stood at the same time, staring each other down, and I wondered what would happen within minutes.

Keep in mind I had a boyfriend who actually loved me, the one that had scooped leaves out of the town's pool that last summer. But also keep in mind the fact that I wasn't clueless and ignorant anymore.

The hallways were long with twists and turns, and intoxicated teenagers with alchol and drugs in their systems were draped across the furniture and thudding floor. The bedrooms, some were already occupied with boys and girls loudly fucking each other, though the music muffled the moans perfectly, and very few bedrooms were empty.

The empty beds of the vacant rooms were still made up with clean sheets, and there weren't pumps and lace panties scattered across the carpet, unlike all the others down the crowded hall.

I pulled Marc, the attractive strangere I had met seconds ago, down onto the duvet, and he automatically kissed my neck, crawling atop of me. His tongue in my cheek, it should have felt terribly wrong. My hands shouldn't have started unbuckling his belt or pulling down his zipper.

"How do you want me?" I leaned up to whisper in his ear, then collapsing back down to the cool and crisp white beneath us.

As he rocked me back and forth, I started to pretend he was Caleb, the one who likes to laugh and casually kiss my forehead afterwards. I started imagining he was holding me, his t-shirt still resting on my carpet, light rain starting to fall outside my dirty window.

He reminded me how much he loves the sound against the tin roof, and when I asked him if he wanted to go out for dinner, he barely smiled and suggested we stay home. We made dinner, but instead of eating it, we pushed it aside and fucked on the kitchen counter that I had cleaned just that morning.

He carried me back up the stairs, neither one of us wearing clothes, and he tossed me down onto my soft bedspread. With the lighst turned out, every inch of my popcorn ceiling glowed with plastic stars.

Caleb mumbled, "It looks amazing," and I knew he was smiling through the pitch black.

A different sort of whisper interupted my flashbacks, and I snapped back to reality as the exhausted voice breathed, "I'm done." I blinked several times, my body pressed beneath Marc, the room still managing to rotate around me.

Cue the most addictive feeling.

Cue the shit hole I just got myself into.