I named her Africa #Wattys2015

[fourty]

"Red, why red?"

"Good to know you speak, Faust. I was beggining to think you were mute."

"I just can't believe you're going to a party with someone else," I spat, annoyed, "and you even dare ask me to be your ride."

"I don't have a car, and you're my only alternative. Anyway, you're the one who turned down the invitation, so don't complain now."

"Could have asked Declan to come pick you up, couldn't you?" I said, gritting my teeth.

"He can't drive, Faust. Besides, I wouldn't make him come pick me up if the party's at his own house, that'd be ridiculous."

"I'm not taking you if you'll be wearing that."

Chiara looked down at her romper with uncertainty, taking into reconsideration her outfit.

"What's wrong with this?" she questioned, slightly hurt.

"Do I seriously need to say it? How long has it been since you've been to a party? It's red, it's low cut, it's short and-oh have I mentioned it's red?" I said, eyeing her figure.

Chiara turned to the mirror and roamed her body, checking for anything to fix.

"I like it. Who cares what you think of it?"

"Fine," I hissed, " but no lipstick, and that's the end of this argument."

"Whatever, dad, just grab the keys and let's go."

___________________________

The house was like a rumbling storm from afar. The lights that traspassed the murky windows mimicked the struck of lightning,
illuminating the plot with multicoloured flashes every fraction of a second.

The music created an atmosphere of rumbling, incessant, bumping isolation from the twin houses on the same block, isolating the mass of young people from the grungy neighbourhood.

Bracelets clincked and swang around girls' wrists and the clatter of heels against the pavement gradually ascended as more and more people neared the entrance, led by a path of cobbled stones, crowding inside the bursting bricked house.

I turned off the engine and dropped my hands to my thighs.

"You don't drink, do you?" I asked, turning to face her.

"No, I don't."

"Good. Don't-"

"God, Faust it's just a party, I can take care of myself."

"It's just- I know what guys try with girls like you. I'm trusting you to be careful."

She turned to the window and I caught her side smile on the reflection.

"It'll be fine, stop worrying, it's becoming annoying." The glass paled from her humid breath, blurrying her image into a foggy one. "Thanks, by the way."

"I'm still angry, don't think it'll go away this easily, you'll have to try harder darling. Now- who's your ride when this is over?"

Her eyebrows shot upwards and her fist covered her mouth.

"Oh, shit."

I cracked up.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"I don't know, sorry. I've just never heard you swear before."

She rolled her eyes at me and reached for the door handle, the ends of her lips twitching upwards.

"Wait- You'll need me to take you home," I said, getting off the car swiftly.

She did as well.

"You're coming?," she asked, raising her voice through the music.

"No, girl, I just wore my favorite vans and black jeans to hang casually at home," I yelled, biting my lower lip and, lowering my voice a tone, added, "I knew you'd need someone for a ride back, silly. Now, let's get this over with."

"You're not a party fan?" she asked me, amused.

"I like dancing, but I wouldn't kill for these kind of parties."

"Well then, show me just how good you dance," she dared.

"Oh, is that a challenge?" I asked, locking eyes with her, "let the games begin..." I whispered in her ear, "sweetheart."