Ink Stains

Chapter 8

Most teenage girls could stare at their reflections for hours, analyzing and analyzing as they seek imperfections.

I’ve never been one to do so. I just didn’t care about what I looked like on the other side.

Yet, there I stood before my bathroom mirror with Sansa standing behind me as she fixed my hair into luxurious curls. “Is it supposed to take that long?” I asked, handing her a bottle of hairspray.

“Your hair doesn’t want to stay for some reason, so I have to keep redoing it,” Sansa replied through the pins hanging out of her lower lip. She finished a couple of minutes later, and then applied a final layer of toxins to keep it in place.

I stood from my stool and leaned closer to the mirror. “I don’t see how this is all necessary. It’s just a damn party,” I whined. Asher had made it a point to remind me about that damned event every single moment he saw me. It was his way of defeating his own anxiety.

“It’s for Asher,” Sansa chirped. “You guys are really good together.”

“We aren’t really together,” I refuted bitterly.

Sansa proceeded to straighten her mass of dark frizz that was her hair. “You guys have kissed, you enjoy each other’s company…Would you rather me call it mutual admiration?”

“Yes,” I answer immediately. “That sounds like the perfect term to describe it.”

She paused for a moment to catch my glare. “It’s strange how you guys came to admire each other so quickly, you know? You have never been one to pine after boys, yet here he is.”

“He was the one who initiated everything. I didn’t ask for him to do this.” Finally saying these words seemed to open up another realm of my mind, another tree to pick apples from. I began to question my intentions with him, especially considering that I’ve only latched onto him in my moments of need. Asher was my only distraction from Jasper’s impending death.

Sansa gave me a sympathetic look as my face fell. “Does he make you happy?”

Unable to say anything else, I weakly nodded.

She wrapped her arms around me in a brief hug. “Good. I won’t question it any longer.”

“You are the most genuine person I know,” I whispered, “but I have to ask you something.”

“Don’t be shy,” Sansa encouraged.

“What’s going on with you and Valerie?”

Sansa bit the inside of her lip, visibly pressing down her soft flesh. “Nothing important,” she said dismissively. “Let’s go get you into that dress.”

--

Sansa had to shove me out of the car to actually get me going inside. “You look great, so stop worrying,” she pestered.

Smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles of the delicate fabric, I finally stopped resisting her pull. “I don’t care what I look like anymore as long as nobody throws up on me.”

“Let’s just make sure that that person isn’t you,” Sansa laughed as she strutted through the door.

Her walk said it all, the way her hips swayed smoothly, the clack of her high heels, and the undeniable confidence that radiated off of her. I followed her timidly, probably looking like an awkward penguin. “You’re so not funny,” I had to yell in order to make my voice audible through the booming music and shouts of my fellow partygoers.

Sansa disappeared into the crowd, leaving me to observe my surroundings and proceed with caution.

Tom’s house was magnificently large, even for Larchmont standards. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling, vibrating for the sounding bass. Red solo cups seemed to litter the floors along with other disgusting trash. I couldn’t tell the front most rooms apart due to the herds of underage drinkers dancing in close quarters. Words to describe that spectacle go along the lines of sinful, mad, and chaotic.

I sucked in my stomach and shoved my way through a couple of soccer players attempting to drag a keg through what appeared to be Tom’s living room. Beer spewed out the sides, causing many people to slip, fall, and swear all at once.

My only priority at the moment was to find Asher. He was the only one who could prevent me from going crazy because of my sudden claustrophobia. Knowing him, he would be nowhere near anybody. Asher is the type to avoid monstrosities like this at all costs.

Somebody tapped my shoulder so lightly I almost didn’t feel it. “Asher, thank goodne-“

There it was, my everlasting luck slapping me across the face. With a broadly overconfident smirk, Derrick stood before me looking more attractive than I had ever seen him before. Derrick was just another skinny lacrosse player when he pursued me, but he had incredible biceps clinging onto his arms. Through his muscle-shirt, his refined abs poked through. Any acne that clung onto his face before vanished, leaving no traces. And then there was his blonde hair, magnificently quiffed upwards rather than hanging flat on his forehead so that his dark eyes could finally be seen. “Derrick?” I said breathlessly. “What are you doing here?”

“Just here for the drinks,” he admitted. Even his voice had gotten lower. “You?”

Jesus Christ. “I’m just meeting up with some friends.”

“Do you want to dance?” Derrick asked abruptly.

Somehow, I had completely forgotten about Asher. The only thing I could think about was my reasoning for refusing Derrick’s offers to take me out. “Sure,” I answered him all too eagerly.

Despite the pop music blaring, Derrick carefully placed his hands at my waist and began swaying slowly. In response, I let my hands fall on his shoulders. “How have you been?”

“I’ve never been better,” I said with a genuine smile. “How has lacrosse been?”

“It’s been better,” he shrugged. “I nearly broke my wrist the other day.”

“That sounds horrible.”

Derrick arched his eyebrows. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen your sympathetic side.”

“I’m not always distant,” I scoffed playfully. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so considerate before. You haven’t even tried to cop a feel yet.”

“I’m a changed person,” Derrick said defensively, his tone becoming serious and less lighthearted. “I know I was out of line when I pursued you before, so that’s why I’m trying to stop being what everybody wants me to be. Yeah, I guess I’m a jock. That doesn’t mean I have to be a jerk about everything.”

I gently pressed my lips to his cheek. “You don’t have to be somebody else for me. I’ll always be here for the real Derrick.”

“I’m sorry for what I did before,” Derrick apologized sincerely. “It wasn’t right. I’ve always found something about you so intriguing.”

“What exactly is so intriguing about me?” I questioned.

He smirked again, cocking his head to one side. “Your smile.”

“That’s totally not cliché at all,” I told him sarcastically.

Asher wove through the crowds, shouting my name. “Are you two…?” Derrick faked curiosity. I could tell by the way he gripped my waist slightly tighter that he didn’t want to see me leave. Perhaps I didn’t want to leave either, though.

“Clara, there you are!” Asher panted as he approached me.

Thankfully, Derrick had let go of me and even took the precaution of taking a couple of steps back.

Turning to face Asher, I groaned. “What took you so long? And why do you have a beer?”

“Going for the full experience,” he responded with a sneaky wink. Yep, it had to be soda.

Being the bros that they were, Asher and Derrick acknowledged each other in the most distant way possible with the classic bro-hug and polite exchange. I got tired of it, so I latched onto Asher’s arm. “We’re gonna go get a drink,” I told Derrick. “Thanks for the dance.”

“Anytime,” he nodded, and then whispered something into Asher’s ear.

--

A/N: REMEMBER TO VOTE AND COMMENT.

OH SHIT I NEED TO WRITE CONTENT SOON. TWO MORE CHAPPIES AND THEN MORE WRITING FOR ME.. HUZAH.