Until I Met Her

Chapter 2 (Edited-ish)

BEST. PARTY. EVER!

I don't know if I was drunk or just euphoric, and later tonight I'd break down and cry my eyes out, but right at that moment, I was as happy as I could ever be.

I was never a party person. I had no coordination when it came to dancing, despite my mother's efforts to teach me, claiming that, as a Latin-American woman, I should know how to dance. I think I took after my father because we both had two left feet.

I didn't know I was such a social butterfly until I was in the middle of a party, half drunk, talking to people I didn't even know and would most likely never see again.

Usually, at parties, I hung around with Nick, a six-foot-tall giant who was the softest man I've ever met in my life. He didn't dance either, so we usually stood around the other, cracking jokes. We always had our best conversations after midnight. However, tonight, Nick was glued to his phone, tapping the screen as if his life depended on it.

I tried texting Freddie or Lexi, my other two best friends, but neither answered and I was almost certain they didn't come. Gio was trailing after a shirtless blond.

It was getting late, and I had drunk a bit too much and when I drank, I needed to pee every five minutes, so I dragged my body back to the bathroom. I had no idea whose house we were in but as soon as I got in, I memorised the way to the bathroom because I knew I'd need it.

My body was heavy, my lower belly felt tight; all I wanted was to pee. I opened the bathroom door and shut it a bit too harshly. I rested my forehead against the door and unbuttoned my jeans, slowly trying to wiggle out of them.

"Um— what are you doing?" A voice startled me to the point where I was sure almost all the alcohol escaped my system. Not by peeing, though; I held it in like a champ. I promised myself I was never, ever going to pee myself again.

That was a very embarrassing story I would rather never get into.

I jumped, turning around to face the voice. My jeans were half down, I missed my footing and I fell against the door. Being the clumsy little shit that I was, I didn't go down alone. I brought something metallic with me and it hit my head.

"Holy fuck," I groaned, rubbing my forehead.

A mocking laugh came from the other side of the room and even half drunk, I'd always recognise that voice and that little mocking laughter.

Just my fucking luck.

In front of me, lying in the bathtub with her legs hanging over the edge, was my archenemy.

The girl who stole my toys when we were little and tried to drown me when we went to the pool during summer holidays.

Eleanor Williams.

Our mothers were best friends their whole lives. Mum always said that after leaving Colombia, everything was difficult for her, but meeting Adele was a blessing. Mum and Adele were inseparable ever since up until she left after uni and moved to London, married some rich guy, and it wasn't until I was 10 that Williams came back.

That was when I met Eleanor.

And I realised that Eleanor Williams was the most spoiled little brat to have ever lived

Our mothers picked up right where they left off and dreamt of us being as close as they were, but we just never really liked each other. Our brothers, though, were always together.

Eleanor's icy blue eyes were red and puffy. She looked down at me as if I was some sort of clown. If we were back in secondary, I would've run away in embarrassment, afraid of what her friends would say. Eleanor was the popular girl, the one everybody had heard of and wanted to be friends with. Her little friend group was so cliché, even the way they bullied felt like a bad 90's movie.