That Girl Named Ariana

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

KRISTEN

I stared into my full-length mirror. There was a new girl in it.

A dress clung to her curves and black eyeliner made her eyes stand out. Her hair was in soft curls that fell to her stomach, with the help of clip-in extensions.

It took me a couple of blinks to realize that girl was me, Kristen Johanson.

I was dressed for a party, to go mingle and find some new friends.

It hurt to think that I was really giving up on Travis and Ariana, but I had to look past that.

No reason to look back, right?

I nodded and took a deep breath. Putting on my best smile, I left my room.

I grabbed my jacket and put it on, running to my car to try and avoid the cold.

I turned the key in the ignition and drove to the party, leaving everything of my past to float away and dissolve in the air.

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As I entered the house of the party, I was already stared at, which made me uncomfortable, even if some of the stares were from desperate guys.

I went to the drink table and reached for a cup of vodka and coke, but for some reason, I couldn't do it.

Flashes of the accident went through my mind, and I cringed.

A guy grabbed a cup beside me.

I turned to him.

"Where are the non-alcoholic drinks?" I asked the obvious drunk.

He laughed, loudly, which made his strong breath go right in my face. I backed away with disgust.

"It isn't a party if there's 'non-alcoholic drinks'!!" He mimicked me.

I walked away.

Now I don't have anything to drink.

My head turned to the snack table and I headed there.

My eyes scanned over the chips, cheese and crackers

I was about to grab some chips when I noticed someone's vomit on the table.

I felt like getting sick myself as I backed away.

I sat down on a nearby couch, alone and sad.

Why did I even come here? This isn't fun. This isn't happy. I should be Ariana and Travis.

I felt like shaking my head until all thoughts of Ariana and Travis fell out of my ears. I wasn't there to listen to my own sob story.

A guy sat next to me.

"You're Kristen, right?" He asked.

His words weren't slurred. He either hadn't had much to drink, or didn't drink at all.

I nodded.

"Peyton," He introduced himself.

"Hi," I said blandly.

"So, how much have you had to drink?" He asked, but a smile was on his face. "Or have you found anything that isn't alcoholic?"

"Nothing," I looked at him. "If there wasn't something keeping me from not drinking, believe me when I say I would be drunk out of my mind."

He laughed softly. "I don't drink." He stated. "So I suppose you could call me a goody-two-shoes."

I smiled and breathed out my nose.