icarus

v. gentle fragility

"I don't know Z." Yara lies with a straight face, her smile never dying down. The devil lies but Yara lies better. Yara twists her rings, the diamonds in the Cartier bracelet that she wears glinting in the light. It is a tad loose and hits her skin ever so often. Her fingers run over them, avoiding Atlas's eyes.

Atlas looks like he expects it, his fingernails painted black pressing on the cap of his lighter. He hums in faux belief, resting his elbow on the railing. "So you're not-" He is saying, but Yara suddenly presses her hand against his soft lips. It is a bold move, one that she is sure to regret because she's standing extremely close to him, and the distinct yet familiar cologne he wears and she tries to hold her breath because she's drowning in his cologne, his eyes and everything's magnified in their position. It seems to have alerted the person in the shadows and they run off, the sound of their shoes muted in the dark.

His eyes widen a little, different from the expression he usually carries where his eyes look like they'd expect everything, where his eyes can make anyone feel less than. Shock lines his eyes and he seems comically adorable. He blinks, and then quickly regains his usual look, lazy, haughty and seductive. Her hands fall from his lips, and he grins down at her, and holds her wrist. His hands are cold, and a shiver runs down her spine as he traces a pattern on her palm that has messily scrawled writing on it.

"I'll find out who it was, and I'll leave you with my number incase Z wants to talk." He whispers, pulling out a pen and biting the cap off. The pen presses against her sensitive palm and she purses her lips. The clouds scatter and the moon is brighter than ever. Something had changed that night in Westwood, and she didn't know what exactly it was, but Yara feels the entire school is unfamiliar. He brushes his thumb over the back of her palm, and pushes his hands in his pockets, attempting to walk away. Yara breathes slowly, as cowardly as it seems, and a thought appears in her head, he's more trouble than she'd anticipated.

Her voice is lazy and teasing. "How are you so sure that I'll call you?" Her acrylics tapping on the railing, he seems to walk and stop exactly on beat of whatever obscure rhythm she plays.

"Why wouldn't you?" He lifts his head over his shoulders, eyes smouldering.

Yara walks ahead of him, and lets her voice linger as his touch on her palm burns into her skin. "Unfounded confidence is more dangerous than curiosity, don't you think, Atlas?" His chuckle follows her fastly thumping heart all the way to the party, and Yara shakes her head. No boy is worth losing her composure over.

************

"Done with your business?" Zane asks, his hands gripping the stem of his champagne glass as he swirls the golden liquid. Yara's hand is knocking softly on the table that holds the spiked cocktail and the weed brownies. No one of course takes them, it would be considered social suicide to take drugs so publicly and weed of all drugs is just unacceptable in their imaginary list of poisons to put in their body. They prefer the higher end drugs, LSD and other pills that they would buy from dealers who'd love nothing more than to prey on their juvenile minds. Pity, really.

"More or less." She replies, cupping her chin. Her perfectly manicured nails digging into the sunken dimple in her cheek. Her eyes scan the large dimmed floor, Vivienne is dancing with a boy that's in one of her classes, and his hands are trying to grope her but she didn't seem to mind. Yara smiles into her hand. Nouveau riches are so sleazy. Raven is in a corner, slowly grinding to Sam Smith's Unholy with her on-again-off-again boyfriend.

Tanner, the head of the elitists, or the A-list, the richest in the school glances at her again, swamp green eyes glinting with mischief. He'd been talking to his best friend, Xavier and his eyes would find her time and time again. Yara thought he'd been staring at the table to see who'd be dumb enough to take a brownie under his vigilant surveillance and of course the reminder of who'd be next to be humiliated publicly. Her lips curls flirtatiously and he winks at her. Tanner is nothing short of elusive and suave but he is the most popular boy in Westwood for a reason, and that is his mind. He is scheming, and wicked and knew it. Tanner often uses it to his advantage. He sits on his throne of gold, above all of them. A heartbreaker he is and the official, unofficial king of the upper listers.