╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗ CHAPTER NINE lies, lies, and more lies ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
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( 162 candles )
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Tuesday, November 1, 2009
Harper's POV.
Ugh. I can't believe my mother is making me go to Caroline's party. It's a school night for goodness sakes, and we literally just had the Halloween party yesterday.
I swear this town has too many parties. It's so annoying.
My mother drives up to the front entrance of the Grill, with me in the back seat. I rarely ever sit in the front passenger's seat. I don't know why; I'm just more comfortable with sitting in the back. I guess it's because it's much more private back here where I can avoid my mother's scrutinizing gaze.
Once the car comes to a complete stop, she looks back at me. "I'll come pick you up at around eight-thirty. Alright, dear?"
"Alright," I say.
I unbuckle my seatbelt and prepare to get out when she stops me. "And remember. You need to make eye contact when you talk to people, dear."
It takes everything in my power not to roll my eyes.
"Okay," I answer weakly, not at all sure why she had to say that. Of course I know I need to make eye contact when I talk to people. That's common sense. I mean, sure, maybe I do need to work on my social skills, but that doesn't mean she has to constantly remind me of obvious things like making stupid eye contact.
"Bye," I tell her before getting out of the car and shutting the door behind me. Slowly, I make my way up to the front entrance of the Grill, taking my sweet time. I'm in no rush to socialize at the moment, and I didn't even want to come to this party in the first place.
So I already know I'm going to have a bad time.
I open the front door and step inside. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the bright lights of the Grill as opposed to the darkness outside. But once my vision clears up, I'm met with a party rush of loud music, dancing teenagers, and underage drinking.
My first instinct is to find an anchor person so I don't look like an idiot who just walked into the wrong place. However, when I don't see anyone I know immediately, I walk further into the Grill.
That's when I spot the last person I expected to be here . . . Damon Salvatore. I can only see his side-profile, but I easily recognize that sharp jawline and dark hair of his.
