CHAPTER ONE:
THE BEST THING ABOUT PARTIES
TWO YEARS AGO I would have never imagined that I would see a guy stripping on a ping pong table in the middle of a get-together. But of course, Peter always surprises me — no matter how hard I read his body language for any tells that he will do something absurd.
Sometimes I ask myself, 'why am I even talking with this dude?' but then I realise watching him is the most funniest thing I've done. Which is saying a lot — since my dog, Chaplin, is one crazy animal.
Almost everyone is cheering Peter on, dancing with him, high on the buzz of alcohol and weed, and probably some other drugs that I've never heard of. While I'm standing on the side watching everything evolve into something weird and honestly, I'm starting to get creeped out.
Peter is already too far gone and I know I will need to take him to my house, if I even get him in the car, so he can nurse his morning hangover. I have no words to say or expressions to show, for him to already know I'm flabbergasted.
I notice a girl whispering (yelling, actually) in her friends ear and sneaking subtle glances at me. No matter how badly lightened this house is, I see her licking her lips and motioning with her hands to me.
Before I can turn to leave the room, she walks over to me and leans in to say something to me — more, like flirt with me.
"I've seen you in school," Her voice is tight, as is her whole body, "What's your name?"
I glance at her cheeks, which are rosy either from the warmth of the room or the alcohol, I guess both, from the fact she's uneasy on her feet and walks to stand beside me against the wall.
"Oliver." I nod at her and watch her suck on her bottom lip. Can't say she isn't cute — she is. But in the kind of 'I'm a librarian that decided to step outside of my comfort zone for the first time of my life' way.
Her eyes slowly jump from me to her friends, she sends a grimace their way and her nose wrinkles.
"I'm Alina. You're Peter's friend, right?" Her hand lay's uncomfortably on my bicep and I cock my head looking down at her face.
She's so short.
I nod and look to her friend, the one she whispered something to.
The girl is shamelessly watching our interaction, in case something goes wrong.
"You're really hard to talk to." She breathes and steps closer to me, wetting her lips, "We can go upstairs, where you won't have to talk at all."
Ah, the reason she came to me.
I love being right.
Which would sound egoistic but for me it's just fun. I love being right as much as I love getting a high score on a test or a pop-quiz. It's an achievement.
"No."
Alina's eyebrows furrow and she lets out a breath, which comes out more like a grunt of 'as—ole'
She leaves without saying a word, obviously upset I didn't take up her offer.
So I do the right thing and go away from the whole situation and hide in the second living room of the house, which has my favorite couch.
YOU ARE READING
The Story of Edith
Romance18 year old Oliver likes watching people. He enjoys it too much, some would call his hobby a stalker tendency. The rich druggie Edith would call him analysing everyones body language a stalker tendency, but when he is the only one catching her on he...
