𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞 | machine gun kelly

49

A/N:
Listen to the attached song while you read the first part of this chapter! Also, this is a long one. This chapter is 6.9k words. I didn't want to divide it into two so it is what it is i guess <3 i hope you have fun

***

Davina Martinez's pov;

MUSIC PULSATED IN THE AIR, PENETRATING inside my chest as it engulfed my heart in its control, making the organ throb with each beat as though my new heart was some estranged lunatic caged inside my chest-yearning to be free as it slammed continually against my ribcage.

My anxiety was fueling it, I knew that. Only this music was not one to be blamed, for my own mind had violent control over every organ in me, and at this point in my life-gosh, I should know that simple fact better than most people.

Damon Albarn's sultry voice flowed in my senses, sparking every fiber in my body with peculiar energy, while the music's beats tortured my heart with gratification simultaneously.

"If I could take her down, and run
then I'll call her. 'Cause she's standing
drama, she know I'll call her.
She's getting on the sun then she
ordered, imagine me, imagine me now."

The click of my heels against the boisterous environment was drowned out as we ventured further inside the Megan Fox's mansion.

There were people everywhere, strewn about standing in groups of fives and tens as they laughed and clinked champagne filled glasses with each other while their perfumed kisses hung in the air around them and the dim yellow orange lighting drenched their glamorous forms-faces half hidden behind studded and lacy masquerade masks-in an ethereal golden light of mystique.

The main hall of the mansion was decorated like a Versailles ballroom. The crystal chandeliers were heavy and sparkling, as they hung from the ceiling and caught light, reflecting it back in iridescent shards.

"Nothing to be justified in.
Just one thing, you should feel nada,
I know she lies alone, she's my caller.
I sense her in my mind, she's my collar."

The Gorillaz's song throbbed in the air around me, tainting everything in a sultry, hazy vibe. The party was an elegant one, I could tell that, but there was an element of modernity to it-a leftist sense of rebellion reminiscent of the art of angst and chaos. The music justified that-it made the masquerade party everything that it was perhaps intended to be.

Trippie and Carter had already strewn themselves about-taking a different path as though we hadn't arrived together at all. Of course, that was the plan. Our attendance must not look arranged, calculated.

My arm felt restless in Pete Davidson's. As his plus one, we had planned an obvious promenade for the night-just in case.

"Relax," Davidson mused beside me, lips frozen in a smile as he looked ahead and acknowledged people he wasn't close with, with subtle nods.

"I'm relaxed," I scoffed, irritated. "I'm so relaxed I could go to sleep right here."

He let out an airy laugh, before his smile faded as he spotted someone in the distance. Efficiently, he turned his eyes away, puffing out his chest.

I had followed his line of sight, and my eyes met the distant figure of the Kim Kardashian. The woman's face was grim, her lips puckered in slight distaste as she eyed me from the distance-judgement clear in her manner as she flipped the singular long and sleek ponytail braid as she on, and turned away.

I furrowed my brows slightly, my eyes meeting the side of Pete Davidson's face as he led us on, navigating our way through the crowd.

"Well, your ex seems disgusted by me," I offered, an attempt at making conversation to calm my anxiety. "Do you suppose she thinks you downgraded?"