ROCK N' ROLL NEVER DIES

Chapter 10

I finally relented and gave Braxton my number, but only so he could text me details about the party, because I agreed that we weren't teenagers who communicated via instagram.

It was a large, brick apartment building, with windows overlooking the street bellow, park at the back and other buildings right and left.

"Sixth floor!"

We looked up — Ivy, Scott, Tom and I — to see a guy waving at us.

I guess that dilemma is cleared.

We took the stairs — my personal agenda to do something good for my body — to which Ivy replied with a grunt. The guys only looked at one another then shrugged, following us up six flights of stairs.

It was not pleasant to bear witness to Tom gently smacking Ivy on her ass, and her giggling like a teenager. She did, however, tell him to cut it in front of us. For that, I was thankful to her.

We reached the wooden front door with an inscription.

Pfeiffer.

I thought it was his friend's place? Didn't he say that?

A ruffled-hair guy welcomed us to his "humble abode". Inside, the party was in full swing. By the time we left our coats in one of the rooms, a girl fell asleep on the couch, another guy ran straight for the bathroom to, presumably, throw up and Braxton was...looking at us.

My cheeks warmed under his piercing stare. They shouldn't have, not with Scott right behind me, but they did.

Braxton's eyes slid to Ivy and my heart fluttered with embarrassment. Of course he wouldn't be looking at me the whole night.

Someone knocked on the front door when we were just about to get something to drink, and since there was no one in sight that registered the knocking, Tom lifted his eyebrows at us and then went to open the door.

Luckily, it was Marvin. His hair was wet, like he'd just gotten out of the shower and he was breathing fast.

"What's up with you, dude?" Scott asked his friend, who was leaning against the doorframe like his life depended on it.

"I had swim practice and ran all the way here, because I missed my bus. I ain't missing a party, you know that."

"You're a swimmer?" Ivy asked incredulously. He really didn't look the type.

"Yes, dear, I am."

Tom's arm curled around her waist, his fingers playing with her long curls. Marvin eyed the position of the hand, my friend's face, his friend's face, then put his arms up in silent defence.

Scott lightly tugged at my arm to follow him  "Come on."

We ventured into the crowd and joined a group of people on the couch next to the sleeping girl. They each had a cigarette in hand, talking, debating loudly, while smoke entwined over their heads, playing with shapes of itself.

"Hi," Scott greeted. Their conversation halted for a moment when they smiled at us, inviting us to sit.

"Tell me," a guy next to Scott asked us, "do you think Superman would beat Batman?"

Trying hard to suppress my laughter — still letting a smile slip — I shook my head. "No way, Superman would go down."

"See, Tracy, I told you!" the one who asked us turned and enthusiastically pointed his finger at a brunette at the end of the couch. She was shaking her head in disapproval. "You're wrong. How could he have won? He doesn't even have any superpowers!"

"But he has money and intellect," Scott chimed in. "Plus, gadgets don't tire."

"Yeah, but..."

I quickly jumped in. "And he has Batmobile!"

"Face it, Ace, you lost."

Tracy — or Ace, apparently — let out an agitated huff that blew her hair out of her face. "You're wrong."

Another guy on the sofa laughed loudly. "You were never good with accepting defeat."

She shot him a pinning glare. "That's because I never lose."

"Keep telling yourself that. By the way, I'm Keith." He placed his cigarette in his other hand and stuck the free one out to us in greeting. We both shook it, introducing ourselves to everyone.

"Marlene."

"Scott."

The guy that was sitting next to Scott, the one that started the debate, smiled broadly. "Alexander."

"Tracy, as I'm sure you've already heard." She winked and smiled a gorgeous smile that made her whole face shine.

"I'm Maya," a girl, who had been quiet until then, said, awkwardly waving from her sit at the far end of the couch.

Alexander puffed circles of smoke out of his mouth. "So, what do you do?"

"To-do!" Keith sang a tune in a low baritone. No one seemed to mind that, as though they were used to it by then.

Scott twisted to me as to say ladies first. I was sure I blushed, at least lightly over my cheeks. "I'm currently studying graphic design." I had to raise my voice over the music that gradually got louder.

"And you?" Alexander jerked his chin towards Scott.

"I'm in med school."

Others on the couch looked at each other, clearly surprised, then grinned. Tracy purred in a soft, low voice, "I think there's a law student somewhere over there," she waved her cigarette-occupied hand at the crowd in the kitchen, "but other than that it's all artists honey."

"Oh, yeah?" I could see Scott took that as a challenge. He was a competitive guy. "What do you study?"

She leaned forward ever so slightly. "I'm not at all." She whispered, as if it was a top conspiracy.

It turned out Keith and Alexander were attending a music academy and Maya was in design like me. Tracy was freelancing her way through life with her paintings.

At some point during our conversation they offered us a smoke, to which I replied, "Thanks," and took one, while Scott scrunched his nose.

"No thanks, I don't smoke."

Suddenly, I felt a hand at the small of my back and a whisper in my ear. "I didn't know you smoked, Lovely." Scott didn't seem to have noticed Braxton's hand.

My skin prickled with goosebumps at the sound of his voice.

"There's a lot about me that you don't know."

Tracy passed him a lighter, stuck in a pack of Marlboros, but he put up his hand in refusal.

"You don't smoke?" I was actually surprised.

"I don't feel like it at the moment."

I turned to the others. "Does he really not smoke?"

"Never seen him with a cigarette a day in my life," Keith answered.

"See?" Braxton's smile was a sight that was sure to stay in my mind for a long time to come.