Feather

Thirteen {The Party, Pt. 1}

Peyton was getting ready in Michael's room as he sat nervously on the couch. He didn't even know why he agreed to this, he could never fit in with those people, he didn't want to, but he couldn't say no to her. She had looked so happy when they went to pick out a suit for him. He had to admit, she had exquisite taste. With a deep breath, he looked down at his new black, tailored suit. Honestly, when Peyton said she wanted to buy him a suit, he didn't expect it to be an Armani.

She had told him that if you were going to only own one suit, then it had to be the best suit money could buy, and then giggled as she waved her pristine, previously unused credit card that her dad had given her when she left home. He was so surprised at how good she looked in that situation, it was like second nature for her to be in a place like that. He stood, smoothing down the crisp white shirt that Peyton had picked out for him, and ran his fingers through his hair.

"How do I look?" She asked, walking into the living room.

He turned to look at her, "wow," Michael breathed with a slight laugh. Peyton was also wearing a black suit but hers was Gucci, and tailored to fit her curves perfectly. The jacket was buttoned to eccentuate her waist, the sweetheart neckline of her suede corset just peeking through the lapels. The pants stopped at the perfect length above her ankle, and he smiled looking at the shiny, pointed heels on her feet, "red shoes?"

"Yeah," she grinned, "my mother hates them, she says they make me look promiscuous, and that red shoes, especially heels, are unbecoming of a lady."

"So, of course, you wear them." He laughed.

"Of course," she walked over to him, straightening out his jacket, "at eighteen, when I was allowed access to my funds, I threw out every trainer, boot and shoe I owned, and brought myself all new ones, and all of them in red, even my thongs. You should have seen the look on my mother's face."

"You're a naughty girl." He smirked, running his hand over her hair, that she had styled over her left shoulder, and into a large curl. Her make-up was simple, slightly dark eyes, with nice eyeliner, and dark red lips, "you look beautiful."

"Thank you. You look very handsome too," she ran her fingers over the collar of his shirt, "you look good in a suit."

"I bet you say that to all the boys." He said, batting his eyelashes.

"You get used to seeing guys in suits when you hang around with those people," she shrugged, "it's just normal at parties, and stuff."

"So, I don't look good?" He furrowed his eyebrows.

"No, you don't," she said, making him frown, "you look amazing," she grinned, "the car should be here soon. Are you excited?"

"I guess, a little. I'm not comfortable with big crowds, you know that."

"I know, and there will be a lot of people but they don't like to touch, remember? Just stay with me, or Calum, and you'll be fine." She smiled sweetly, running her thumb soothingly over his jaw.

"Now, that guy I'm excited to meet," he grinned, "I want to find out all the stories about you before you escaped the gates."

"I wasn't any different to the way I am now. If anything, you'll probably think I'm boring as fuck, and decide to just leave me there."

"Firstly, I'd never leave you anywhere, and secondly, I saw the way you were when we went to buy the suit. You were like this rich princess, all class, and the way you spoke with this elegance. It was like I was watching a film."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise." She frowned slightly, looking down embarrassed.

"Don't be sorry," he laughed lightly, putting his finger under her chin so she would look up at him, "it was actually really fucking hot seeing you like that. Maybe you'll put that voice on for me one day?"

"Really? You get turned on from me speaking in a fancy accent?" She giggled.

"I would have thought that was pretty obvious with what I did to you when we got home after that," he leant forward, pulling at her earlobe with his teeth, "how would you feel if I did that to you at your mum's party?" He whispered, "would you be able to keep quiet, or would you scream my name like you did then?"

Peyton whimpered quietly, her eyes closing as she held onto his arms for balance, "fuck, Michael," she moaned softly, resting her forehead against his, "you shouldn't say stuff like that when we're about to leave to go somewhere."

"I know I shouldn't but I can't help it. I like watching you just melt at the things I say, it makes you so much more responsive to when I touch you." He ran his fingertips down her neck, and chest, hooking a finger into the top of her corset, and pulling her closer, as she let out a small whine that was almost a groan, and Michael loved it.

"Baby," she looked at him with a pout, "we have to go in five minutes."

"I'm sure your mum wouldn't mind if I smudged your lipstick a little bit." He smirked, going to kiss her but she pulled away quickly.

"And you had the cheek to call me naughty?" She raised her eyebrow at him.

"You love it." He bit his lip, pulling her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist tightly, and kissing at her neck.

It wasn't long until his doorbell rang, and they had to pull away from each other. They both took a deep breath, knowing that tonight wasn't going to be easy. Peyton took his hand as they both made their way downstairs. She thanked the driver as he held the door open for them, she got in, Michael following. She sat close to him, resting her head on his shoulder, and their hands together with fingers entwined as they began the long journey to her old home.