Learning to be Beautiful

Learning to be Beautiful ~21~

The music thumped loudly around me, beat deafening and lyrics unintelligible. Hordes of people I didn’t know weaved in, out, and around each other all over Callie’s home; some of them with large, red plastic cups in hand, others with their hands in the air in some form of dancing unknown to me. The lights throughout the house had dimmed considerably, and the sun had long since disappeared below the horizon. Instead, different colored lights strung along the walls provided us all with enough light to move around without tripping all over each other.

Across the room, Gavin was chatting away with a few of Callie’s friends. I had tried to socialize along with him, but found that I had absolutely nothing in common with anyone here and thus we had nothing to talk about. All the conversations that had started ended in very awkward silences.

Callie was somewhere in her huge house, presumably with Linc by her side; I hadn’t seen her in a little over an hour.

Pierre, though I hadn’t seen him yet, was also an attendee. I only knew of his presence because the last time I had seen Callie she had been muttering under breath about some ‘stupid drunk blond designer’. I could only assume she meant Pierre.

The alcohol was flowing freely and the guests—with a few exceptions, including myself—were taking full advantage of the free bar. The party had only begun three hours ago and already lightweights were slumped in corners, completely unconscious. I had been tempted to visit the bar—just to see if I would find Linc there as I had during Pierre’s party—but I managed to restrain myself and remained in the living room.

“Which way to the bathroom?” The clearly feminine voice came from my left, and I swiveled around in my seat to look at the speaker.

A young woman, no older than twenty-four, stood there, her light brown hair falling into her eyes, whilst supporting a young man in his twenties who was all but keeled over on the floor.

I immediately hopped up to show them the way, and the woman murmured her thanks. Once we reached the bathroom’s plain, white door, she shoved the man inside and towards the toilet. He fell directly to his knees and began to hurl with enough force to break down a door. My nose wrinkled as the poignant smell of alcohol and stomach acid wafted through the air, and I saw the woman who had supported the man gag at the stench as well.

Once she was satisfied that he wouldn’t pass out and drown in the toilet bowl, she exited the bathroom and shut the door behind her. “Thank you so much,” she sighed. “If you hadn’t helped me he would have spilt his contents all over Cal’s lovely home.” She spoke quietly, but clearly and a tired smile graced her lips.

“It wasn’t a problem,” I said, returning the smile. We began to walk back to the living room, “I’m Aislyn Palmin, by the way.”

“Delaney McAllin. And the man throwing his insides in the porcelain bowl back there is my client, Matt Guire.” She grimaced as she threw a look over her shoulder, “It was his first time drinking; didn’t go down very well.”

For some odd reason, the name Matt Guire rang a bell somewhere in the back of my mind. “Client?”

“Bassist for the British band Chocolate Covered Fiberglass. My father’s is their manager, and I’m something like an assistant manager.” Delaney shrugged and pushed her hair back over her shoulder with one gloved hand. “We’re in America to gain them some publicity.”

It dawned on me that I had heard of Chocolate Covered Fiberglass from my roommate back at Mannfield. She had a thing for most of the members, but mostly Guire.

We returned to the raucous living room where the people who had once been sitting down were dancing to a Cobra Starship song. With a grimace, Delaney grabbed my hand and dragged me over to a different area of the house—the bar. “People these days suck at dancing.” She mumbled, before waving the bartender over and asking for a water. “It’s all just jumping, fist pumping, and a whole bunch of other awkward crap.”