Hope for the Hopeless

The next day started off quite pleasantly. Casey gave me a nice tour around the small town; we visited a bookstore which had become my first favourite place in Notting Hill. I’d also found out that she’s going to be attending the same college as I am, the only difference was she’s going to study about clothes and fashion, while I study about Van Gogh and Leonardo Da Vinci.

“So…” Casey started, as we walked back to Aunt Hazel’s. “There’s this party tonight. You in?”

I could think of so many excuses not to go, since parties weren’t my thing. But then I remembered I wasn’t in America anymore. “Uh, yeah...sure” I replied hesitantly.

“Ooh, it’s going to be so much fun, I’m telling you!” Casey said enthusiastically. “Come on, I’ll help you choose an outfit.”

Soon enough the sun was taken over by the dark sky and the chilly air only got chillier. I stood awkwardly at the middle of the living room that Casey and I shared as she examined my ‘get-up’. I subconsciously chipped off the turquoise nail polish from my fingers. She saw me and quickly slapped my hands. “Will you stop that? You look mental and you’re ruining your nail polish.”

I examined her outfit and immediately felt panic overcoming my existence. Casey stood about 5’4 bare foot, but as of now she must be about 6 feet tall with a 4 or 5 inch pumps covering her feet. She wore a nice peach coloured coat over her sequined top and a pair of skinny jeans hugging her legs. Everything about Casey screamed ‘supermodel’, who wouldn’t panic with her presence around?

“Turn around, I want to see how your pants look on you.” she commanded. And I complied, awkwardly taking one step and then another until I’ve turned three hundred and sixty degrees. A look of distaste appeared in her face. “Hmm, hold on, I think I have the perfect pants to go with your cute blouse.” She chirped before disappearing inside her room.

When Casey came out, she held a pair of black skinny jeans that looked a little similar to what she was wearing. “Try this one.”

It was horrible. The fabric embraced my fat, but not that fat, thighs too much it made me feel uncomfortable. “Casey, I-I don’t think this’ll work. It’s too—tight.” I stuttered.
“Oh hush now.” She replied, taking another look at me. “Don’t worry, that fabric stretches up to a size 28. You’ll get used to it!”

I trusted her words then, just so we can get a move on and get this party over with.
We reached the place where the party was at and boy did I regret coming. Casey was nice but to be quite honest, her clique wasn’t really okay with me. People were everywhere, from the first floor up to the top. I felt dizzy just by looking at them move around. “Arya, let’s go. My girls are on the second floor!” her voice rose as she dragged me through the sea of people dancing and grinding—and somehow managing to do inappropriate things.

I heard squealing and shouting the moment we reached the top. Casey was greeted by two other girls, one had a striking blonde hair and the other was Brunette and had tattoos all over her arm. “Girls, this is my good friend slash roommate Arya.” Casey introduced. And they all crowded around me, giving me warm hugs and kissing my cheek. It’s sort of surprising how touchy they get.

The night just dragged on, well for me, meanwhile Casey and her girl-friends ruled the dance floor. It was amazing how they were able to dance for hours with their pumps and high heels on. Everyone was just enjoying the night—except for me. I almost fell asleep at the couch in the balcony, until a couple came by and started making out. It would be rude if I stayed and watched, so I left and headed to the mini-bar.

The overly attractive bar tender handed me a shot of vodka, and then it just came pouring down one glass after the other. I was slurring a bit by the time Casey found me. “You holding up, darling?” she said, supporting me from falling to the ground.

“I—I’m fine.” I managed to reply, then the hiccups started and I couldn’t stop. Casey laughed at this and figured we should need to head home.

“Come on; let’s go before you start vomiting on the floor.” She teased, before pulling me up to my feet.

We walked slowly, but surely, to the exit. Influenced by alcohol, I felt my insides stir when we passed by through the massive crowd again. My legs didn’t cooperate much either.

As we neared the glass door that had the exit sign above it, I felt my body collide with another; I figured it was a guy since it felt more bulky and hard. I almost fell to the floor. Good thing Casey was fast enough and fortunately caught me before my ass kissed the concrete.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going!” he yelled arrogantly, his thick Irish accent filled his voice.

I wasn’t really one who makes big deals out of just anything, but since I was half past drunk and my legs were starting to itch from drinking too much vodka, I decided to lash out on this idiot.

“Weren’t you the one who bumped me?! You should be the one to watch where you’re going!” my stomach twisted into knots this time, I felt like hurling right then and there.

He stared at me furiously with his bright blue eyes and said just about the most stupid question ever. “Do you not know who I am?”

I laughed—rudely, as a matter of fact. “Are you mental?!” he scoffed at my question.
The crowd around us started to tone down, all I could hear were whispers and murmurs of curiosity. Even Casey looked at me in shock. I didn’t care at all.

“Listen, you daft prick!” everyone gasped. And somehow, I felt like I just made the worst decision of my life. But the damage has already been done, and besides, this jerk-face was at fault. “I don’t care who you are. You need to apologize for being an idiot and for bumping into me so hard that I almost fell to the floor!” I yelled.

He didn’t seem to be appalled. He just smiled smugly at me and turned to his back, disappearing into the crowd. The people around us figured that the show was over, and carried back to their own businesses.

Casey, on the other hand, tried to calm me down and took me outside. And I couldn’t stop thinking about how rude that prick was, although he seemed too familiar to me.

The Blonde hair, blue eyes and Irish accent, oh shit. The guy at the airport I bumped into yesterday.
The anger just elevated as I realized that he was that jackass who didn’t even apologized when he hit me with his guitar case. It was simply unacceptable how offensive he was just because—just because he’s good looking or something, doesn’t mean he could just do and say anything he pleases. My thoughts were only filled with aggravation, and then I thought of something crazy, something my Mom would do in a situation like this. “Casey?”

“Yeah, what is it?”

I breathed out heavily. “You know that guy, right?” she nodded. “You’re friends with him, aren’t you?” she nodded again.

“I need you to tell me where his car is.”

She looked puzzled. “What? Why?”

“Just…tell me.” I said, trying to calm myself down.

Although hesitant, she still showed where the prick’s car was. And ah, it was a Ford. This is going to be great. I knew I was going to regret it in the morning but I was drunk and feeling hopeless at a strange new town, my legs were probably turning red like tomatoes and I probably was shit-faced.

I looked for a rock, a huge one, one that could easily break through glass. And did something that could get me thrown into jail for the rest of my miserable life, I threw it in his damn windshield. It broke instantly and the alarm went on. That was the signal to run and I dragged Casey with me, back to her car. And we drove off.