The house glows with the same exterior as before, vibrating with the same music as before. There is absolutely no change, and I feel as if I have walked into a time portal, rewound to last weekend. I sure hope not. The only difference I can see is mine and Willa’s outfits, though her style remains unaffected. Though she claimed she had nothing to wear, she arrived at my house fully clothed in a tight skirt and strappy cami. The blur of the lights comes into focus and so do my ears, connecting to the criticizing charisma of Willa.
“I really wish you would have worn something a little more formal, Jordan. I mean, really, you could have at least let your hair out. And that printed t-shirt? What is that?” She continues to bicker to me about my chosen attire, and my head actually begins to throb from her harsh words.
I wheel on her and her track of voice is interrupted. “Willa! Stop!” I raise my voice. “You wanted me to come tonight, and I am. I can wear what I want, and you don’t get the right to mock me!” I defend my favourite shirt, which is tucked into the high-waisted jeans I wore last weekend. I am wearing the same white converse, my hair pulled back into the same ponytail. “If you are going to continue to be rude to me tonight, I will leave now.”
She fumbles for a moment, considering. Her eyes drop to the ground, then flick back up at me, hooded with guilt. “You’re right. Sorry, J”, she says, averting my stare. We walk in silence up to the door, and push it open to reveal the night to us.
“Ladies”, the same guy from last Friday bows to us, handing us red cups of liquor. I smile at him and take the drink, sipping it slowly. I’m very tense tonight, probably because of nerves, so I allow the alcohol to relax my muscles a little. Willa turns back at me and beams, our altercation forgotten in her mind, and pulls me by the hand through the maze of the house.
I immediately spot the blond boy amongst the crowd when we reach the kitchen, and my body is put further at ease. I approach the lightened space, while Willa ventures deeper into the house. I tap Niall on the shoulder and duck around him to avoid his stare.
“Ay!” He raises his arms at me, laughing. “Hey, Julie.”
“Jordan!”
He smirks before doubling over in laughter, slapping his knee. I’m laughing too, though I’m not sure why; he doesn’t remember me. His laugh is just so intoxicating and I can’t help but join him.
“I know silly, I was teasing you”, he smiles. “Hey, Jordan. How are ya?” He embraces me for a quick hug and I giggle.
“Good, good. How about you?”
“Very well. Very drunk. Very accompanied. Very attractive”, he continues to praise himself and I swat at him before laughing myself.
“I thought your plans on returning to my fortress were terminated?” He raises an eyebrow. “I am here to make my amends”, I explain.
“Ah, I see”, he lowers his voice, as if it’s a secret, and taps his nose. I can’t help but laugh at everything he does.
“Anyway, who said it was your fortress?” I challenge.
“I said so!” He defends, before tumbling into the long-winded story about the original owners of the house, and how it was handed down to him through his bloodline and the accomplishments of many dares and pranks.
