Vanity Teens

Chapter Eight

A.N. I LOVED WRITING THIS ONE! I just know you guys will love it!

Chapter Eight:

"What should we do, then?" I asked, excitedly. I didn't really know why, but the idea of doing something fun with my limitless credit card seemed so wild and out of place, like it wasn't me. But I was enjoying being out of my comfort zone more than I probably should have. "You know, as long as it isn't something like buying prostitutes. That would be a waste of money."

"Yeah, we have Vienna for all that." I laughed at him.

"You have my sense of humour."

"You have tainted me." He was opening up to me. Good.

I turned to him, wild with excitement, and whispered in his ear, "I have stolen your innocence." I felt him shiver as my breath slid over his neck, so I smiled brightly at him, and continued. "We should go to Amsterdam. I hear weed is legal there."

"I can't just up sticks and go to Amsterdam, let's do something wild, in the city," Sam said, his eyes bursting to the brim with exhilaration.

"The London Eye," I said. "I've never been before. I've never wanted to." I was surprised at myself after I said it, it was the biggest Ferris wheel in Europe. I just never went into London explicitly for fun, I always went for something like Halloween costumes, spa treatments, or grabbing a cuppa. I've been near it, passed it, I'd even considered going on it, but I never got the chance to. Sam had tainted me more than I had him, his niceness was withering away at my arrogance.

"I've never been on it either, but, what about queues?" he asked, as we left Spiffings Spa. It was on the corner of Oxford Street, a tiny little shop. It was cosy and excluded, really, but that was what was so good about it.

"I know one thing: I'm not waiting."

"But we can't just jump the queue, that would be rude, wouldn't it? And don't you have to book your tickets?"

"Sammy, stop being so moral, live life, be a darling! I'll need to phone my mother, though," I told him, searching for her number in my phone. I'd asked the spa to charge it for me, since it'd died the night before.

"Your mother? Why?"

"She has connections." I searched for her number in my contacts, and there she was: Mother Dearest. That was what I called her, with a hilarious photo of her half-way through a sneeze. I was so funny. She hated me for it, though.

"Hello?" Her voice was her fake telephone voice, don't act like you haven't got one.

"It's me."

"Oh, you." Her voice was back to my beloved Mother Dearest's voice of disappointment and resentment, she really didn't like me. She always assumed that I would be a complete embarrassment to her.

"Yes, me."

"Well... what do you want, son, I'm otherwise engaged," she demanded. I heard the TV on in the background.

"Mother," I began, "you're at home, and by otherwise engaged, you mean you're watching the new season of Once Upon A Time. I can hear it in the background."

"Well, if you must know, Regina has her magic back and it's all very intriguing." She knows I love Once Upon A Time, she had to ruin it for me. That was one of the very limited things we had in common.

We'd usually sit at home and watch The Vampire Diaries (we both sobbed when Damon died), True Blood (we both sobbed when Adele died), even Pretty Little Liars (we both sobbed when Maya died) all day on Sunday, but last night I had the Halloween party. "And why are you off school?"