Sapphire Blue [The Grim Reaper Chronicles, #1] (Editing)

Chapter Four

"We ended up sleeping together,"

For a second, Samantha tried to process the shocking words. Awed by the way they'd come out in a smooth line. She stopped picking flowers and straightened her back to meet Elsa's gaze. "You what?"

Elsa giggled rather childishly in the solitary garden and repeated, "We fucked, and it felt good."

"I heard it the first time." She glared, her hazel eyes almost boring deep holes into the head of the young lady before her. "He was a stranger. Someone you just met on a go."

"At a party, you mean," Elsa corrected, sparkles visible in her mascara coated brown eyes. The way she fantastically rolled them with egotism showed how much she'd savoured the red-hot moment. The chap's risque sense of humor had awaken and honed her proclivity toward naughtiness, and she had with sovereignty taken over his small world for the next thirty slow minutes, undisturbed. Even the loud music booming in the party room, and high pitched clatters of attendees didn't faze their mood. In their drunken state, they had each other. "He wasn't really a stranger. He was my date."

"Handpicked by you?"

She shook her head and laughed, the spontaneous enchanting sounds and the brisk movement of her curvaceous body jerking Samantha into the wake that she was being stylishly mocked for thinking with such density. She was used to hooking with people's dates and partners, regardless of their spouses' takes and opinions. Nothing seemed new to her, except the grim look on Samantha's face which made her thoughts waver. Nothing warranted that, honestly. "An accidental date. His date failed to show up, so I filled in."

Even though she almost didn't recognize him the next morning, she still reckoned him a part of her.

Samantha's nose wrinkled in disgust, her eyebrows lowering. "By letting him get under your pants?"

"I wasn't even wearing panties," She apprised like it was the most obvious thing in the universe, her thick artificial lashes fluttering in rhythm with the soft breeze. It looked more like it was going to fall off in the next minute. "We made out and went straight to business."

The squeak she released next cringed Samantha to the deepest core. Realizing the last twenty minutes of her life had been squandered on doltish talk, her mood became momentarily glunched. Until Elsa left, a decent smile would never creep on her face, as she was still bound to listen to incredibly stupid things. Things that never excluded boys and fun clubs, and alcohol. It was her fault for acquiescing in Elsa's accompany. A bad kind of chum. She shouldn't have allowed Elsa escort her down here to pick flowers. It was a terrible idea. The most horrifying party story was being dished right to her face by the girl she had only met a couple of times in the orphanage home. She had seen hang out with the bullies once, and she knew Elsa was just another version of them. Only that she was a lot nicer and chatty.

What she meant by chatty was her saying the most crazy things without a care.

Grossest things, strictly speaking.

"And Mrs Alice let you attend the party even when she knew they were gonna be some bad stuff happening there? Like teenagers doing shitty things with each other."

Elsa knitted her brows, wondering why she had chosen to tell Samantha of all girls about the party. She was a bore who has never attended one. Why had she bothered herself in the first place?

"I am nineteen, old enough to do whatever I want with my body. It really doesn't matter if I get the consent or not. The manager does not get to decide for me,"

Mrs Alice approved of it, she knew. If the woman didn't, she wouldn't be so spirited about it. These past years, she had grown accustomed to the shoddy character of their manager. Her defiling way of life was fueled by a reclining sense of ownership. She felt she had control over anything and everything. In all corners of the universe and above. This strategically applied to the girls. The atrocious behaviors of the bullies were extracted from her antipathetic genre. She led the way for them to trail around with. In her early stage, she had perhaps dallied with guys this way and never gave herself a break until she had gone through every boy in wherever she came from.