Status: Leave me some love!
Never Fall For You
Five
-Kat-
The rest of the week dragged on slowly, and with each passing day, everyone’s excitement about Phee’s party had grown to the point of pure anxiousness. By Friday, the entire school knew - due to Phee’s rather large mouth - and everyone was counting the hours until school was out. During the week, Tyler made his disappointment in my lack of calling him very well known. He not only reminded me daily that he was ‘still waiting to hear from me’, but continued to stare at me throughout the school day, and start conversations that usually went nowhere. But I guess that was mostly due to my lack of interest.
Friday seemed to get especially slow. I guess even I had given into the hype that was being built up about the party, and I actually started getting excited. By the time school finally got out, I was practically bouncing out of my seat.
“So, what are you wearing tonight?” Phee asked, as we walked out to our cars, Lydia tagging along behind. I was lucky she already had plans for the night, or she’d be nagging me to take her with us.
I shrugged. “Jeans, and probably a hoodie?” I replied.
Phee stopped dead in her tracks, and I almost bumped into her. She spun around, placed her hand on her hip, and stared down at me.
“No” she said, matter-of-factly. “No, you are not.”
I raised my eyebrows. “But-”
“No” she repeated, and sighed dramatically, adding an eye-roll for effect. “I know that I said pick me up at eight, but I’m just going to come over to your house, after I get dressed. You are not allowed to show up to my birthday party looking like a bum. There will boys there! Cute boys! And I know that one in particular is very fond of you!”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t care about boys, Phee, I care about getting drunk. And you don’t have to dress up to get drunk” I replied.
“But you have to get dressed up for what may or may not happen after you get drunk” she argued. “And I can assure you, if you let me dress you up, something great will happen.” She smiled, batting her long, mascara covered eyelashes at me, and I sighed, giving in.
“Alright, alright” I said. I don’t know why I even bothered arguing with her; she always won. Not that I minded. She always did a great job dressing me up.
So we went our separate ways, after Phee promised to meet me at my house later the evening.
And, just as she promised, she showed up around thirty minutes before eight - the time we agreed to meet up. I answered the door when she got there, and took in her outfit.
Her long, bright red hair was pulled into a high ponytail. She wore a denim skirt that was frayed at the bottom, and stopped mid-thigh, a long, loose tank top with some kind of design on the front, black heels, and her leather jacket. She looked hot. As usual.
She looked me up and down, her eyebrows knitting together as she took in my sweat pants, and oversized t-shirt.
“Come on” she said, pulling me into my bedroom. “We have some work to do.”
Thirty minutes, and a large pile of clothes later, I was deemed fit for her party. After a ten minute argument on why it was too cold for me to wear a skirt, when she was pulling it off just fine, Phee finally settled on dark gray skinny jeans, a black sequin tank top, red pumps, and a black cardigan, though I stated it was far too cold for just a sweater. My dark brown - almost black - hair, she left alone, saying that its natural waves were sexy, and she barely added any makeup, other than the bright red lipstick to match my shoes. When she was done, I had to admit; the girl knew what she was doing.
I yelled goodbye to my parents, saying that I would be staying at Phee’s house for the night, though they both knew better. But my parents and I shared a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ kind of relationship, so they both merely said goodnight to me as I headed out the door.
When we pulled up to Hunter’s house - one the hugest houses in town, by the way, I mean the thing was three freaking stories, with an indoor pool and hot tub - we could hear the music blasting outside, just as clearly as if we were inside. We stepped out of my car, and headed up to the front door, where we had to shove our way inside, due to the amount of people that were already crowded in his house.
I don’t know what Hunter’s parents did for a living. No one knew. But for some reason, they were never home, and no one ever questioned it. They left the liquor cabinet open for Hunter to use any time he damn well pleased, and that was good enough for us.
We shoved our way through the crowd of people, half which were already drunk, as they wished Phee a ‘happy birthday’. I was surprised to see that they even knew who she was, and that it was, in fact, her birthday. We made our way to the kitchen area, and Hunter beamed at Phee as soon as he saw her.
“Happy birthday, beautiful!” he exclaimed, pulling her into a tight hug, then lifting her off of the ground, and twirling her around.
I watched Phee’s reaction, to see if she was going to hook up with Hunter that night. They had this odd relationship that no one could ever really figure out. They’d hooked up once last summer, and ever since then, Hunter’s been in love with her. But she’s too ‘wild, and free spirited’, as she put it, to settle down. But Hunter still kind of acts like he’s her boyfriend. Not in a weird, clingy kind of way. But he never dates anyone, or even kisses other girls, in case Phee wants to hook up, which she usually does. When she gets drunk.
She hugged him back tightly, grinning from ear to ear, and thanking him, and I could tell that it was definitely going to be on.
“So” he said, once he peeled himself off of my best friend. “What are you two drinking tonight?”
I shrugged. “Whatever gets me drunk” I yelled over the music.
Hunter grinned, then grabbed a bottle off of the counter. That was another great thing about having parties at Hunter’s house - he always played bar tender, and he always knew what drink to give you. If you wanted to get drunk, he knew how to get you drunk, and fast. If you just wanted to drink socially, he had the perfect drink for that too.
He filled a red plastic cup about halfway with some kind of clear liquor that I couldn’t read the name of, then filled the rest of the cup with Sunny D. Then he stirred it, stuck a straw in it, and slid it over to me. I raised my eyebrow, and looked at the cup, then back at him.
“What is it?” I asked, cautiously, and he chuckled loudly. I had a bad history of just drinking whatever drink was placed in front of me. I finally broke that habit, after about the third time of me passing out on his bathroom floor, and not remembering where I was, or what I did to get there.
“Just drink it” he said. “It tastes like a cream-sickle, and you don’t have to drink a lot of it to get completely shit-faced.”
I picked the cup up slowly, still eyeballing him, and took a small sip. Then I was hooked. Whatever was mixed in with that Sunny D was freaking amazing, and I couldn’t put the cup down if I tried.
Phee automatically headed for the other side of the counter, where some seniors were doing shots.
“Seventeen shots for my seventeenth birthday!” she cried, before grabbing two shots - one in each hand - and tossing them back like they were nothing. Then she grinned at me, and I knew immediately that we were destined for a great night.
The rest of the week dragged on slowly, and with each passing day, everyone’s excitement about Phee’s party had grown to the point of pure anxiousness. By Friday, the entire school knew - due to Phee’s rather large mouth - and everyone was counting the hours until school was out. During the week, Tyler made his disappointment in my lack of calling him very well known. He not only reminded me daily that he was ‘still waiting to hear from me’, but continued to stare at me throughout the school day, and start conversations that usually went nowhere. But I guess that was mostly due to my lack of interest.
Friday seemed to get especially slow. I guess even I had given into the hype that was being built up about the party, and I actually started getting excited. By the time school finally got out, I was practically bouncing out of my seat.
“So, what are you wearing tonight?” Phee asked, as we walked out to our cars, Lydia tagging along behind. I was lucky she already had plans for the night, or she’d be nagging me to take her with us.
I shrugged. “Jeans, and probably a hoodie?” I replied.
Phee stopped dead in her tracks, and I almost bumped into her. She spun around, placed her hand on her hip, and stared down at me.
“No” she said, matter-of-factly. “No, you are not.”
I raised my eyebrows. “But-”
“No” she repeated, and sighed dramatically, adding an eye-roll for effect. “I know that I said pick me up at eight, but I’m just going to come over to your house, after I get dressed. You are not allowed to show up to my birthday party looking like a bum. There will boys there! Cute boys! And I know that one in particular is very fond of you!”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t care about boys, Phee, I care about getting drunk. And you don’t have to dress up to get drunk” I replied.
“But you have to get dressed up for what may or may not happen after you get drunk” she argued. “And I can assure you, if you let me dress you up, something great will happen.” She smiled, batting her long, mascara covered eyelashes at me, and I sighed, giving in.
“Alright, alright” I said. I don’t know why I even bothered arguing with her; she always won. Not that I minded. She always did a great job dressing me up.
So we went our separate ways, after Phee promised to meet me at my house later the evening.
And, just as she promised, she showed up around thirty minutes before eight - the time we agreed to meet up. I answered the door when she got there, and took in her outfit.
Her long, bright red hair was pulled into a high ponytail. She wore a denim skirt that was frayed at the bottom, and stopped mid-thigh, a long, loose tank top with some kind of design on the front, black heels, and her leather jacket. She looked hot. As usual.
She looked me up and down, her eyebrows knitting together as she took in my sweat pants, and oversized t-shirt.
“Come on” she said, pulling me into my bedroom. “We have some work to do.”
Thirty minutes, and a large pile of clothes later, I was deemed fit for her party. After a ten minute argument on why it was too cold for me to wear a skirt, when she was pulling it off just fine, Phee finally settled on dark gray skinny jeans, a black sequin tank top, red pumps, and a black cardigan, though I stated it was far too cold for just a sweater. My dark brown - almost black - hair, she left alone, saying that its natural waves were sexy, and she barely added any makeup, other than the bright red lipstick to match my shoes. When she was done, I had to admit; the girl knew what she was doing.
I yelled goodbye to my parents, saying that I would be staying at Phee’s house for the night, though they both knew better. But my parents and I shared a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ kind of relationship, so they both merely said goodnight to me as I headed out the door.
When we pulled up to Hunter’s house - one the hugest houses in town, by the way, I mean the thing was three freaking stories, with an indoor pool and hot tub - we could hear the music blasting outside, just as clearly as if we were inside. We stepped out of my car, and headed up to the front door, where we had to shove our way inside, due to the amount of people that were already crowded in his house.
I don’t know what Hunter’s parents did for a living. No one knew. But for some reason, they were never home, and no one ever questioned it. They left the liquor cabinet open for Hunter to use any time he damn well pleased, and that was good enough for us.
We shoved our way through the crowd of people, half which were already drunk, as they wished Phee a ‘happy birthday’. I was surprised to see that they even knew who she was, and that it was, in fact, her birthday. We made our way to the kitchen area, and Hunter beamed at Phee as soon as he saw her.
“Happy birthday, beautiful!” he exclaimed, pulling her into a tight hug, then lifting her off of the ground, and twirling her around.
I watched Phee’s reaction, to see if she was going to hook up with Hunter that night. They had this odd relationship that no one could ever really figure out. They’d hooked up once last summer, and ever since then, Hunter’s been in love with her. But she’s too ‘wild, and free spirited’, as she put it, to settle down. But Hunter still kind of acts like he’s her boyfriend. Not in a weird, clingy kind of way. But he never dates anyone, or even kisses other girls, in case Phee wants to hook up, which she usually does. When she gets drunk.
She hugged him back tightly, grinning from ear to ear, and thanking him, and I could tell that it was definitely going to be on.
“So” he said, once he peeled himself off of my best friend. “What are you two drinking tonight?”
I shrugged. “Whatever gets me drunk” I yelled over the music.
Hunter grinned, then grabbed a bottle off of the counter. That was another great thing about having parties at Hunter’s house - he always played bar tender, and he always knew what drink to give you. If you wanted to get drunk, he knew how to get you drunk, and fast. If you just wanted to drink socially, he had the perfect drink for that too.
He filled a red plastic cup about halfway with some kind of clear liquor that I couldn’t read the name of, then filled the rest of the cup with Sunny D. Then he stirred it, stuck a straw in it, and slid it over to me. I raised my eyebrow, and looked at the cup, then back at him.
“What is it?” I asked, cautiously, and he chuckled loudly. I had a bad history of just drinking whatever drink was placed in front of me. I finally broke that habit, after about the third time of me passing out on his bathroom floor, and not remembering where I was, or what I did to get there.
“Just drink it” he said. “It tastes like a cream-sickle, and you don’t have to drink a lot of it to get completely shit-faced.”
I picked the cup up slowly, still eyeballing him, and took a small sip. Then I was hooked. Whatever was mixed in with that Sunny D was freaking amazing, and I couldn’t put the cup down if I tried.
Phee automatically headed for the other side of the counter, where some seniors were doing shots.
“Seventeen shots for my seventeenth birthday!” she cried, before grabbing two shots - one in each hand - and tossing them back like they were nothing. Then she grinned at me, and I knew immediately that we were destined for a great night.