Short Skirts, Long Shirts

Short Skirts

The night was cold. I couldn't tell if it was from the winter weather, or the fact my ass was practically hanging out of this skirt.

Elle strode beside me, dress on and coated in glitter that reflected in the puddles. I thought back to the manic dress-up session before this calm walk. She'd thrown me random outfits from the depths of her infinite wardrobe in the desperate hope that we'd find something that suited me. Everything suited her;  they were all her clothes, but Elle could put shoes on her ears and wear them well.

There was a comfortable settle on a short, black tennis skirt and practically transparent white blouse. My chunky combat trainers seemed to work with the casual fabrics yet I kept feeling like the skirt was tucked into the back of my shirt and I was showing off my ass on a proud display.

"Allie will you get your hand off your ass, I swear to God," hissed Elle, avoiding a splatter of water washed on the pavement. She kept tilting in her heels and I felt like the pathetic strip of buckle straps were not safety ensuring. Her dress, a deep violet mini-dress coated in glittering sequins, clung to the top of her thighs and she strode with such a confidence I felt highly undermined.

"I'm sorry. It's just, don't I look weird? I'm so used to my high ponytails and long cardigans that this whole getup is really tipping me off balance." I brushed hair out of my face and felt the skin behind my ear where Elle had burnt me attempting to tame and curl the wild bursts of honey brown shooting from my head. I hoped it wasn't as red as it was previously because surely that would ward off boys, and apparently tonight was all about the boys. Boys, boys, boys.

"No, you look great. Just don't rub your eyes because your mascara and eyeliner will come off as a big black mess on your hand. Oh, and if you kiss someone, they're gonna have pink glittery lip marks all over them." She giggled, dabbing at her own ruby lips with a finger. I knew some lucky boy was going to be slathered in smudged, red marks whereas my gloss was going to be totally untarnished. Great.

"I mean, I know who I'd want to get my lipstick all over," Elle smirked, sighing a little. I didn't even need her to explain who; she never stopped talking about him. 'Him' was Luke Hemmings, a boy in our year and extremely good looking. He's known mostly for his long tops, the checked kind that swing above his knee, and turning up to every party. Everyone knew he was attending the one tonight, and Elle's crazy dreams of sex with him had been thoroughly explained to me throughout the course of the past week.

"Just imagine the feel of one of his long tops, like right after you've fucked it'd be against your bare skin and he'd hold you tight and call you his. He would play with your hair and bury his face in your neck and- oh wow, look at the sky Al!" She stopped her fantasy and stared longingly at the sky as we trekked down the street. She had a right to exclaim the sky looked pretty because it truly did. The clouds were tangerine, faded ever so slightly, and the sky a harmonious mix of rose and deepening lavender. It was a beautiful sunset but the current time showed the sun shouldn't be going down. It was too early for the morning but never too late for the party.

After what seemed like an age of walking, we reached the party. It was quite clear the house was going to be a wreck in the morning with dub step blaring loud and drunk people staggering around aimlessly on the garden in front. Elle and I looked at each other, then proceeded to enter the house.

"More chicks for more dick!" squealed an excited boy, spilling beer from a bottle and throwing his arms open in greeting. Elle just needed, grabbed my hand and headed straight towards the drinks. The air was thick with sweet sweat and sex. There were girls parading around in skirts far shorter than mine and tops cut just below their chests, all clutching the hands of some drooling boys happily following them. They looked smug and I felt a little sick with the idea of so much control.

"We're going to get you totally fucked tonight," breathed Elle, lining up a row of shots.

"And I mean both ways," she giggled, splitting the row into two even sections so we could both drink. With a nervous laugh, I grabbed the glasses and chucked the alcohol down my throat with my best attempt at ignoring the burning sensation. Tonight was one of the only nights I'd ever gone out dressed up, so I was going to enjoy my rebellious streak whilst it lasted.

After four shots I was left by a bowl of smashed Doritos with a cup in hand staring at Elle who was busy smashing her face against some stranger. You could see the streaks of red from her lips and I knew that even if she were to kiss Luke, there would be no more colour to leave a triumphant, territorial mark. Luke. I wondered what lucky girl was busy blowing him and tried to shake the image out of my head. I'd lost my virginity in all departments, but I can't recall a single thing. I hoped if I got a decent fuck tonight, I'd at least remember some details.

From the living room heaving with bodies and spilled liquid, I heard a distinct voice over all the noise. It was yelling about getting another drink because it didn't feel drunk enough and it took me too long to realise who was striding fast over to the drinks. It was Luke Hemmings. The Luke Hemmings.

I panicked. I couldn't be near him in case I did something inane, so I attempted to squeeze myself out of the kitchen but to no avail. Couples sticking their tongues down each others throats blocked every entrance and exit apart from the one Luke was heading down. I decided that escaping looked too obvious so I settled for turning my back on him and downing my drink. Lifting my cup to my lips, and hoping I didn't leave a pink print, I drank as fast as I could. The more I drank, the more I convinced myself he couldn't see me. If my back was turned he couldn't recognise me and he'd go back to banging some begging girl.

"Excuse me, do you need a refill or something?" asked a voice and I turned around. Stupid. There in all his heart-melting glory was Luke, holding out a bottle of some alcoholic beverage. Upon seeing me, he smirked and his lip-ring rose with his flirty smile. I tried not to die inside.

"It's fine, I'm trying not to get too drunk tonight." I smiled back, placing my cup on the table. A small frown broke across his face, then he shrugged and poured some of the liquid into his cup. My mouth struggled to form words in his presence. I didn't know where Elle was, but I somehow wished she was here to melt with me.

"But thanks anyway," I added with a small nod of appreciation. Luke smiled again, put down the bottle and stepped around the edge of the table so he was closer to me. Through the scent of the party I still smelt his aftershave, that powerful musk he left behind wherever he went. I wondered how many girls had left a room smelling of him.

"You have, um, some lipstick on your face," he said, raising a hand to get rid of whatever ridiculous smudge I had on me. My brain screamed to brush him away and fix it myself, but I let him move closer so his fingers touched my skin.

"Let me get that for you," he grinned and I could do nothing but let him push his head forwards and press his lips onto mine. If this was his way of getting rid of my lipgloss, I really didn't mind.