The Color Red

1. The Name's Ryker

                   Stepping out of the shower on the unpleasantly cold October evening, all the relaxed muscles in my body quickly began to tighten. I blindly reached for my favorite towel from the closet and buried myself in its warmth. “Another Friday night, another stupid party,” I muttered to myself as I swiped my hand over the foggy mirror to reveal an unenthusiastic face staring back at me. A sigh escaped my lips while a sense of obligation pushed me to walk across the hall to my room and search for an outfit.

          I picked through every shirt in my closet until I found a good match for my torn black skinny jeans that were already waiting on my bed. I slipped into a loose-fitting gray shirt with a low neck line along with my favorite jeans and a dull pair of black converse. I was comfortable and confident, I felt like me in this outfit. When I looked in the full-length mirror hanging on my wall though, my mind was made. “The skanky black dress it is,” I thought to myself, knowing my friends would never approve of this outfit for the party. I reluctantly changed into a tight, short dress which showed my lack of curves on my small frame. Faded black biker boots and thick, dark eye makeup completed my look just in time for my friends to arrive.

          “Bri, don’t forget…” I heard my mother begin to say as I reached the bottom of the stairs, “you have to take Cassie to gymnastics in the morning.” I groaned and looked back at my sister Cassie who was swaying back and forth and humming along to a cartoon on TV. My mom sat behind her, trying to tame the tangled curls of the five year old. “Bye” was all I said in reply as I swung the front door shut behind me.

          I could already hear the pounding of the bass coming from my friend’s car stereo as I walked down the steps of my front porch.  I climbed into the back seat of the Mazda and looked around at the group of familiar faces that were beaming with excitement. “Hot!” My closest friend Katrina screamed over the radio, referring to my outfit probably. I rolled my eyes and looked out the window as she sped away from my neighborhood and headed toward the rich part of town.

          The sign read Golden Acres, and how appropriate. It was your average suburban development full of five bedroom houses and perfectly trimmed lawns. It’s just a social prison if you ask me. If you’re born in Golden Acres, you grow up in Golden Acres. You live a boring life of security and social superiority then you die in Golden Acres. I hated the whole concept but as far as my friends and I were concerned, these were the houses that hosted the best parties; always plenty of booze, boys and music.

          My friends made their separate ways as we entered the house and as usual I was left to find something to pass the time. Don’t get me wrong, I was usually all for the party scene, but tonight it was different. Actually, for the past month or so I’ve been dreading every party. I’m so sick of the routine. I know exactly what to expect… a fancy house with some spoiled brat as the host who welcomes every guest with a painfully fake smile. Numerous beer bottles and red cups full of homemade mixed drinks. An over-the-top stereo system surrounded by hormonal teenagers dancing against each other. And of course you can’t forget the in-ground pool, where at least one person will end up being pushed in by the end of the night.

          That night I found myself sitting on a stranger’s marble kitchen countertop. An island full of alcoholic beverages and a mess of empty cups sat in front of me but I remained drinkless. People would occasionally stumble into the room to grab a drink then carry on with their business elsewhere, but not before looking at me with a confused expression. Some of the more sober partiers would try to strike up a conversation with me but it wasn’t long before they made up an excuse to leave. I eventually decided to close my eyes and shut the annoyances out for good; I really wasn’t in the party mood.

          A jolt of surprise forced my eyes open when I heard an obnoxious coughing noise. While my eyes adjusted to the bright kitchen lights, I noticed an unfamiliar figure across the room. He was on the countertop as well, on the opposite side of the messy marble island. He was staring at me… taking sips from a red plastic cup and watching me intently. “Can I help you?” I asked in a bitchy tone, realizing that he must’ve coughed loudly only to wake me up.

          Expecting some sort of apology, I was shocked when he chuckled in response to my aggravation. I sighed and climbed down from the countertop, ready to find Katrina and convince her to bring me home. “How can anyone fall asleep in a position like that?” I heard him ask in a casual voice before I could reach the door, “And to music this loud?” He asked the second question louder to emphasize his point. I paused before the door with my back turned to him while a slight smile snuck on my face.

          “Practice” I replied, straightening my face before turning around to face the stranger. He just sat there on the countertop across the room, looking at me with a weird smirk. I shook my head and turned toward the door again. Why was I wasting my time with this drunken idiot? He was probably just looking to beat his record of girls in one night and I definitely wasn’t interested in helping him. Before I could open the door though, the guy stepped in front of me and blocked the only exit. I crossed my arms over my chest and glared up at him.

          “Are you always this grumpy or do you just have something against the Bruins?” he asked a little more seriously, referring to his hat which was marked with a black and yellow B.

          I wasn’t grumpy, was I? Well I was being pretty bitchy; maybe I should give him a chance. I laughed and cocked my head to the side, smiling a bit, “Stanley Cup Champs, I gotta give them props.”

          He grinned and nodded in agreement. “The name’s Ryker, by the way. I came in here to get away from everybody for a while. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” He smirked, taking another sip from his red cup while he leaned back against the wall.

          “I was in here for the same reason. It didn’t work that well though.” I smiled to let him know I was joking. “I’m Bristol, but most people call me Bri.” I finally uncrossed my arms in order to push my hand through my silky dark brown hair before looking back up at Ryker. He was actually pretty attractive. Tall and lean, but not too skinny, light brown hair covered by a crooked baseball cap, and a clean-shaven baby face that lit up every time he grinned.

          “I like Bristol” he replied before motioning to the door with his head. “Wanna ditch this party for a while? There’s a playground around the block.”

          I laughed, enjoying the idea of escaping to a quiet playground and getting away from the noise for a bit. “That sounds fun actually.” I grinned and looked around the kitchen as if to say goodbye before following him out of the room and through the crowd of rowdy teenagers.