The Badboy Saw Me Naked (#Wattys2015)

Chapter 6 - The Party

The thing about going to parties is that, you have to prepare yourself for the absolute worst. And by worst, I mean a lot of things.

Most of the wannabe sluts of our school would think that dressing up in tinier clothes than a pornstar's thongs, would make them the star of all things beautiful. Now, it's a girl's instinct to dress up nicely for stuff, especially if you're new to them.

For most people (including you), the above description might seem legit to describe me but, in all honesty, I'm just not that cliché head-cheerleader. 

So, what I'm trying to say is that, dressing up like absolute whores could draw you some mega attention but what comes along with that attention—in a place full of drunks, is the actual key for trouble.

Some of the very worst, that could happen to a virgin, is that you get drunk, get kinky and wake up the other morning to find out you got deflowered by your own best friend. (Yes, this happened. No, not to me).

Or, even better—get knocked up.

So there are many things that stop me from losing my sanity with alcohol in a flock of brainless drunks. I don't dress up like I ran into the next-door vile dog which frayed my clothes up and am left in shreds of thread that is reckoned to pass as clothing. And there's always the two-shot alcohol limit.

Always, yes, always get drunk to the point where you find shit amusing, not to the point where you forget your own name and start stripping on top of a bar table.

So, I have to say, I don't need to worry about getting knocked up or get hit on by some drunk-bitch with the ridiculous attire I have on.

Believe me, If it weren't for the mask that came along with the suit, I'd never have agreed to it.

It was around six thirty when Chace mauled my ass into his car and drove us to Cherry—the club. It was a swanky looking place with a collection of alcohol named from A to Z. You name it—it's there.

It's like the heaven for all alcoholics. I like that shit but no thanks, I'd like my liver in full functioning mode.

The party was going on full swing. I, as appointed, was around the door, greeting people. They simply looked amused and nodded a greeting, since they were sober. Although, about three and a half minutes later, they got so drunk, forgot the fact that i met them before, and started to mess around with me.

I call it bullying.

Really, some guy, who went to Ashton West High, slapped my butt (which had a bit of a fuzzy tail, but still), and as a chain reaction, I'd slapped him back. No, not on his butt, you pervert—on his face. His friends hooted at this and I couldn't help but feel proud.

So far, except a few footballers who went to Wilson High, I hadn't met anyone whom I'd personally knew. Sure, I recognized almost everyone but my wonderful outfit made it impossible for them to know. I should be grateful, I guess.

I grew tired of taking care of the 'guests' so I took my time off, ordering a Coke, for myself.

I saw Chace coming towards me, throwing winks at some girls who shrieked and bro-hugging some dudes on the way. I thought he was going to make me do 'hostess bunny job' again so I thought of running off but stayed still anyway.