Short Stories

(1) Holt Hyde: What A Woman: ☁️

You looked at the large house that stood tall amongst the trees. The early Victorian style threw you off. It looked like it'd be used for tea parties, not loud, crazy house parties. The light pink and white exterior seemed so innocent. You wondered if you'd actually enjoy this one like you normally did the others.

You gathered your courage by taking a deep breath in and made your way up the long driveway. You  shivered from the cold, your sweatpants and t-shirt not keeping you safe from the frigid air.

You had given up looking dressy a long time ago. You were only there for the drugs and alcohol, anyway. College life sucked, and you only wanted to forget it all.

You stepped into the loud, bumping house. The DJ was a blue skinned man
with orange hair. You were sure you had seen him around your college, Chandler Academy.

You shook your head and made your way to the kitchen where the alcohol was. After pouring yourself shot after shot, you began to feel fuzzy.

You stayed in the kitchen by yourself, helping yourself to as many shots and chips as you wanted.

The door suddenly opened, and you put down your shotgoass to see who had entered.

It was the DJ.

He said goodbye to one of his friends and turned to face you. His eyes widened, and he bit on his lip. You nodded to him, too drunk to say much.

"Hey." You slurred with a smile.

He looked at you before trailing his eyes up and down your body.

"Hey." He smirked.

Holts body felt on fire. You were right there, right in front of him! He had only seen you from a distance, or through your window, or through his camera lense. He had seen you at parties. He had seen you at school. He even had your pictures on his wall!

The girl he had fallen madly in love with was standing right in front of him.

Right there.

Right directly in front of him.

He watched as you turned your head, seemingly unbothered by his presence. You took another shot before attempting to pour another. Your hands shook wildly, more than they usually did.

He stepped to you, his confidence low but his determination high. Gently, he took the bottle from you and steadily poured its contents into the shot glass.

He then poured a bit into a solo cup. Despite not being a heavy drinker, he wanted to impress you.

He handed you your shotglass and lifted his own. "Cheers?"

You smiled drunkenly. "Cheers!"

You tapped cups and quickly took the shot. Holt watched, his amusement and want for you only strengthening. After you had sat your shotglass down, he drank his slowly.

"You just hiding in here?" He spoke, trying to cover the cough and gag that was sure to follow. He cleared his throat as the tequila burned its way down to his stomach.

"Yeah." You leaned against the counter. "I don't like parties."

He raised a brow. "Then why do you come?"

"Free alcohol." You shrugged.

He smiled. "That's true."

You looked down to your phone, not bothering to reply. He bit his lip again. Did he say something wrong? Were you not charmed by him?

His usual play boy self was gone, leaving only a nervous wreck behind.

"Sorry." You looked up from your phone. "My mom texted."