falling

ring in the New Year

The label was not saving anything on this party.

The club was attached to a hotel, which was very convenient. It consisted of three floors, the higher up you go the narrower the floor. You felt you were in a spaceship mixed with a carusel or the leaning tower in Pisa. It was massive, but delicate. It housed about 300 people on a regular Saturday night. Tonight were though only for a little over 100 exclusive guests. There is a DJ playing in the middle of the 1st floor and around the high middle where the DJ is standing is an oval bar. Drinks are already served in glasses all around the bar, and the servants are standing behind so you can place orders if there is anything that's not there that you would want to drink.

The attendants are people in all ages... Average age being 40+.

I had decided to wear my short red baby doll dress with lace straps covering the whole of my shoulder. It is definitely my favorite dress, but I don't wear it nearly as much as I should. Tonight is perfect as it feels its made for an New Years Eve party in London.

Brandon, Chloe and I roam around until we find their friends and sit with them. Brandons best friend Mack and his girlfriend Chelsea are here. Also, their friends Robbie and Aida, Ian and Kelly and Brandons sister, Shannon and her boyfriend Luke. This is their group, some grew up together, others met in HS or the University or collage and some work together. I know them all after my many visits to London since Chloe moved here seven years ago.

I am not turning 18 until this summer which means I am underage tonight. But, they let me drink since I am with them, even though I know she'll watch me like a hawk. Besides I have drank at far worse places, and far worse liquor. Not knowing how to get home or waking up in strangers' beds not remembering a single thing from the night before. This is up-scale to me.

H: Oh buggar... sorry – a thick British accent says as he crashes into my left side, while I am standing in line for drinks

J: It's fine... - I answer, annoyed and brush the little liquid spilled on my left arm before turning my attention back to the line

H: Heey you...

He apparently isn't backing down and I turn to look at him again. He stares at me and isn't being the least subtle about it. His eyes traveling from my eyes, to my lips, down my body... breasts, waist, legs, and back to my eyes. That is when I notice that his eyes are lost, even disoriented, confirming he is drunk or on something, or both. I raise an eyebrow at him as he has a smug look plastered on his drunk face.

- You want to go up to the rooftop?

J: What? - he has no shame I think to myself. Or I must have misunderstood. The Brits have thrown me off before with their sense of humor, or the lack of it.

H: Yeah, the view is really something to see

J: No, thanks – I turn back to my line for the second time, trying to dismiss him "politely"

H: Why not? We could have fun - he doesn't give up

I small chuckle falls from my lips as this is an unbelievable scene. Norwegian boys aren't that straight forward with what they want, not even when drunk. I look at him

A: Ehh... You apparently don't hear this often but, I am not interested - I try to emphasize the last part of the sentence

H: I am not interested either... I just want to hook up with you. That dress is a killer.

Now I am fully smiling. He really is something. He is handsome as well. Those handsome dudes that know that they are handsome and thinks everyone is into them (most girls probably are) but, wears it completely. With the way he talks, does his facial expressions, moves his eyebrows, bores his eyes into me, moves, dresses... He is just too slick, to polished, except his behavior at the moment. He is annoying I manifest to myself.

J: You seem to have some hearing issues... so I'll just – and I say no, "you are not my type" - in sign language –

H: Oh come on... - he says back in sign language - I am everyone's type. Look at me.

I burst out laughing. He smiles widely, he truly is adorable. A jackass probably, but a handsome one at that. And a pluss for knowing sign language. Thats so cool. Not many people do.

J: You really had great parents ha?

H: What? – this seems to finally throw him off his game, he looks at me confused. It feels like he sobers up a little as well

J: To give you that much confidence I mean?!

He chuckles. I smile too.

"Tiffin" – he turns to look at the voice shouting his name and nods... then looks back at me

H: Sorry gotta go... ass-kissing duties

J: - furrow my brows - Hope they're some good asses

He laughs. A genuine beautiful laughter.

H: You are endearing – he says as he walks backwards and smiles.

I am not easily thrown off my game from boys and their flirting or prevailing tactics. I grew up with an older brother and his friends at our house all the time, as well as my fair share of boys through teenage years. It wasn't always pretty or justified, but when you are broken inside, and not many things affect you and you have no respect for yourself or your body, it doesn't matter if it aint pretty or justified. You just want to have fun, feel good, and feel some kind, any kind, of high. It doesn't matter if its alcohol, drugs or boys. It all blended together eventually anyway. And you just roll with the punches but, in return you become pretty thick skinned.

And I am, just not towards one boy.

Who isn't replaying to my texts but, has been seen at a pool party at a mutual friends house for New Years, his hands around a girl. It eats me alive. I hate feeling like this. I hate myself for having feelings for him. I hate him for leading me on and having control in the situation. But at the same time, I can't stop him. I can't not be into him. I can't not care. Shit!! I can't go down this road, not tonight. I promised Chloe I would have fun and only think of myself. I take my drink and go back to our table where I am dragged to the dancefloor by Chloe and Chelsea.

I see the boy from the line at the far end of the 1st floor, talking to a brunette, smiling, charming her with his tactics. I guess he found someone to go to the rooftop with. Should I have said yes? I was just so thrown off by his boldness, and he was too much happening at the same time. Flirting with me while being fuckable as hell. I haven't experienced that sober, or maybe not ever. It was like Ryan Goslings body and Colin Farrells (anno 2009) smile and flirtation mood were standing in front of me. Of course, my first instinct was to say no and run the other way. 

"Diamonds" by Rihanna comes on. Oh! LOOVE that song! And my mind goes back to Dylan and I sing at the top of my lungs.