A Love Like War

I had to get my mind off of things.

I'd been stressing out for the past week and a half. Though it'd been easy to get back into my normal routine, and Matt and I were easily friends again and there wasn't much grieving over the end of our relationship on anybody's part. But there was still Alex. I hadn't gotten that dream out of my head and I'd been looking at Alex differently . . . and I didn't like it. I didn't like it one bit.

Which is what brought me to this party, that I would've never gone to if I didn't feel the circumstances rendered it necessary. I hadn't been to a real party since . . . well, I hadn't been to a real party. So maybe that can put my nerves into perspective from you.

Cory had informed me about the party; she was going, of course. Luckily she was a bit of a partier, so she helped me get ready ahead of time.

When we stepped out of her dad's Mercedes which we'd parked in around the corner from the party house, I realized I was shaking. Why was I this nervous?

Cory had effortlessly pulled off a tight, pale yellow open-back top and denim shorts. It'd taken me an hour to decide between the outfits she offered me, because I'd tried insisting on wearing something that covered some skin. I'd finally agreed to a corset top, skin tight jeans, and Doc Martens. My short hair was straightened and "ruffled to perfection", as Cory had put it. In other words, I had extreme sex hair and was dressed like a slut.

When we got inside, it was the exact party scene I'd watched in every movie since I was twelve. People everywhere, loud music blaring and shaking the walls, red solo cups on every flat surface and in everyone's hand, and smoke wafting through the air. I barely recognized anyone there.

While I was surveying the house, I'd failed to notice Cory drift off to some unknown room. I was left standing alone in the entryway, awkward and out of place. I barely noticed when a guy approached me and stood next to me nonchalantly.

"Hey," he said, after about two minutes of him standing there and me not acknowledging him.

"Hi," I said flatly. Then I looked at him.

He was gorgeous, to say the least. He had dark, messy hair and piercing green eyes, pale skin and an angular jaw line. He stood about a foot taller than me, broad shouldered and toned in a tight grey t-shirt.

"What's your name, cutie?" he asked, his voice velvet-smooth.

"Uh, Kristin," I said shakily.

"I'm Dan. Nice to meet you. What are you doing standing over here alone?" His eyebrows furrowed. His perfect, perfect eyebrows.

"I'm, um, not much of a party person," I said lamely.

"Ah. How many parties have you been to?" he asked.

"One. This one," I chuckled.

"Oh, man, you are a rookie. Come with me, I'll get you in a party mood." He lightly grabbed my hand and towed me toward the kitchen.

The countertop was covered in bottles of all types of alcohol, some unopened and some empty. People gathered around and island in the middle of the room, and I caught a glimpse of a hookah in the middle of it. Dan grabbed a bottle with a label I didn't recognize and a can of Pepsi and poured some of each into a red cup. I remembered what Cory had told me: only one drink from a stranger a night. He handed me the cup.

"Try that, see how you like it," he urged, a smug smile on his face. I hesitantly took the cup and took a swig of the liquid in it. It was strong and bitter, but I liked it. I took another sip.

"Good?" he asked.

"Really good," I said, grinning.

"Great. Finish that, and find me when you're done. Alright?" he smiled, kissed my cheek lightly and walked away.

I quickly downed the whole cup, not wanting to waste any time with getting drunk. After that cup, I scanned the bottles, and me, being the complete beginning drinker I was, looked for the bottle I thought was the prettiest. I settled on a white bottle of Malibu rum and unscrewed the cap, then took a swig straight from the bottle. Maybe a bit too big of a swig. More like a gulp. The warm liquor ran down my throat smoothly and I felt the alcohol start to take affect, getting dizzy and my mood relaxing and lightening. I wandered over to the hookah table, deciding not to go find Dan. I didn't really care about him.

I watched the strangers around the table suck on the hookah pipes and then blow the smoke out, either up or into one another's mouth. I wanted to try that. When it was my turn, I took the tube and copied what I'd seen everyone else doing. I inhaled the smoke, keeping it only in my mouth and not letting it go down my throat, held it in for a moment, then blew it upward. The people at the table were talking, laughing at each other. I didn't say anything.

A dark haired girl with a lot of makeup across the table looked at me and cocked her head to the side. "Who are you?" she asked. Not rudely, just curiously.

"Kristin. Who are you?" I asked, trying to imitate her tone.

"I'm Abby. Do you go to Towson?" she asked. I realized everyone in the group was staring at me, but it didn't bother me.

"No, Dulaney."

"That's weird. Hardly anyone here's from Dulaney. Are you a senior?"

"Junior," I replied.

Her eyes widened a bit, then she said, "Do you have a British accent?"

I laughed. "I moved here from England when I was thirteen."

"Hotttt," she said, and I laughed.

I watched Abby take another hit of hookah and then breathe it into the girl next to her's mouth. I heard someone say it was called shotgun.

It came to be my turn again and Abby came over next to me and out her face about half an inch away from mine. I was surprised to find that I didn't mine the closeness, in fact, I quite enjoyed it. She motioned back and forth between our mouths and then formed a small "O" with her lips. I did the same and lightly breathed the smoke out, and she sucked it into her mouth, and after a second, we moved our faces apart and both breathed the smoke out.

I started giggling uncontrollably. "That was so cool!"

Abby chuckled. "Have you never done that before?"

"Noooo," I said.

Abby looked at me for a minute, tilted her head to the side, then suddenly grabbed my face and kissed me.

The guys around us cheered and laughed and I felt my cheeks heating up. I kissed her back for a moment, then pushed her away.

"Hang on, I'm not quite drunk enough to make out with girls yet," I laughed, then grabbed a bottle of vodka from the counter next to me, took a huge chug, then grabbed her and kissed her.

This was why I didn't go to parties often.