Cecilia

it starts with a party...

I thought they would stop a few nights ago.

I was wrong.

I lay in my bed, looking up at the ceiling as the throbbing music next door continued. My walls softly shake at the sound of the bass. Blindly reaching my hand on the bedside table, I manage to grab my phone to see the time. 12:02 A.M. Enough was enough. I need my sleep.

I toss my phone on the pillow next to my head and throw the blankets off of me to slide out of bed—remembering to throw on some pajama pants and slippers—before hustling down the stairs and slamming the door shut behind me. As I walked to my neighbor's front door, fury burning inside me, I noticed the string of cars parked down the street. 

Why so many parties? How are they not broke? Or exhausted? Or dead?

Knowing that knocking is worthless I welcome myself into, in my opinion, a garbage party. I receive stares from girls walking from the kitchen to the living room in booty shorts and crop tops—my pig slippers and extra large t-shirt aren't precisely partying uniform. But I don't care. I have sleep on the brain, and anyone who deprives me of that is the enemy.

I stare back at them for a moment to show them I'm not afraid of some seventeen-year-old gossip girls before storming off.

I walk around the house, past boys doing keg stands and couples making out, and when I make it to the den, where I find an intense beer pong game going on, I feel someone tap my shoulder. I whip around, facing a boy with strawberry-blond hair, holding a solo cup.

"Umm... Ya good?" He asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Whose house is this?" I ask, crossing my arms.

"Oh, you're looking for Renny," He smirks, offering me a hand, "I'll show you."

"I'm not holding your hand. Just tell me where he is," I knock his hand away. He rolls his eyes and walks away.

I follow him.

"Are you taking me to him?" I yell over the music. He ignores me. I keep following him until we reach the door leading out to a porch, where a group of people sits around a fire pit, laughing and drinking.

"Yo, Renny, this chick is looking for you," Strawberry kid says. I glare at him as he walks away, yet the glare falters once the boy I assume is Renny stands from his chair. He's a modest height—I'd say hovering close to six feet—with wavy brown hair. His tan skin glows from the fire behind him as he walks closer to me. He shows off a goofy smile with white teeth as he greets me. In short, he's a hunk. Maybe he won't be so bad...

"What may I do for you?" He bows, the group laughs.

Never mind. The glare returns.

"Hi, I'm your new neighbor—"

"Oh! Welcome to the neighborhood!" He smiles, walking over to me and stretching out his arm, "Spencer Reynolds, but everyone calls me Renny."

"Cecilia Prentiss," I cross my arms and his hand retreats to his side, "I have a complaint."

"Oh, we don't have the wine you like?" He rolls his eyes, the boys snicker.

"No, I can't sleep," I tell him, "Do you mind turning down your music?"

"Hmm, let me think," He pauses for a moment, allowing four beats of the EDM song playing inside to slip into our conversation, "No."

"Please?" I groan, "As a housewarming gift?"

"If you want a gift then stay with us for the party," He gestures, earning a cheer from his friends. I roll my eyes and take his arm, dragging him away from his friends. He does have some pretty nice arms...