disconnected // l.h

[five]

My mother used to always tell me that "hate" was a strong word. I'd nod and agree, but only to avoid the argument. Hate was a word I used when I was seven years old; to call out the eight year old boy who'd made fun of my spider man t-shirt, and also when I was thirteen years old; to help me deal with my very first heartbreak.

Hate is a word I still use now; to describe my feelings toward people in general. Well, more specifically, drunk people at college parties, who spill their vodka-beer-extravaganza all over my white blouse.

So, here I was; sitting on the counter of a stranger's bathroom. attempting to scrub off the vomit-inducing scent of beer-vodka, which was extremely difficult. I'm surprised the scent hadn't made me throw up yet.

I looked up to the mirror, and visibly cringed at my reflection. My leg was sticking out an an awkward angle, the heel of it was pressed against the door, making sure that no one barged in.

I looked decent enough, but the frown on my face off set my attempt at makeup. I'd come to the party in jeans and a white ruffle blouse, which was the worst idea in the history of ideas. All the girls had arrived in jean shorts and tank tops, and I looked like i was heading to my first job interview.

Well, I guess it was good that I got a drink splashed on my outfit; in the first twenty minutes now I have an excuse to leave.

Well, not exactly.

Calum was my ride.

Prior to the drink-spilling disaster, Calum had gone on a mission to find Jenna, leaving me to my own devices. I'd gone a full five minutes before my shirt was ruined, and I had to search around for a bathroom.

The house was huge, which didn't surprise me considering Calum had decided to mention on the way over that Jenna had asked a fraternity for their place. I wasn't too thrilled -- loud boys and charity work do not mix. That being said, me and college parties are a natural disaster.

I could hear the pounding music outside the bathroom door (they were playing Paparazzi; what, are we still in 2008?) , and careless screams of loud-mouthed highschool girls. I could punch the mirror, but I won't. Only because I'm worried about my shirt.

The stain was a disgusting shade of brown, and the smell seemed to match. I hadn't alerted Calum of my absence, but I'm sure he noticed. My phone began to ring in my pocket, and I hopped off the counter to answer.

Surprisingly, it wasn't my best friend checking up on me. "Leena? It's Michael!"

I smiled, "Hey, Michael. What's up?" I tugged on my north face and zipped it up halfway. I could feel the dampness of the shirt beneath, but ignored it.

"Where are you?" He asked, sighing, "Calum won't answer his phone, so I figured he's with that American girl."

I perked up, and my words spilled out of my mouth before I could stop them, "In the bathroom!"

"Oh, shit, sorry--"

"Oh, no, no, no. I'm not --- ugh, well some girl spilled her drink on me. I'm cleaning it off." I face palmed. Nice one, Leena.

"We're all standing outside," He laughs, probably shaking his head at my awkwardness. "This looks like a crap party."

I chuckle, "It is. And I've only been here for a half hour. Most of that time was spent cleaning beer off my shirt." I heard a giggle in the background, which I assumed was Ashton. "I'll come out and get you guys."

"Okay, lean bean!" Luke yelled out, and I realized I must've been on speaker. Damn it. I said goodbye, and hung up the phone. Turning off the light, I prepared myself for the outside world.