On the Surface

Show up whenever, dress however

5:00 am. The repetitive electronic screaming of my phone beacons my awakening, and I only respond to it because I know I'm busy today.

5:10 am. Research says coffee and eggs are the recommended morning materials for a productive day. I follow the combo with a strawberry and mango fruit salad and toast. Certainly not a pair for the ages, but my last day deserves the energy boost.

5:50 am. The cold shock kicks in and I scream. Science says cold showers are better for your hair, skin, and energy throughout the day.

6:00 am. It's Friday. Friday means your best dress and heels.

6:05 am. Simple fashion means statement makeup. The red bullet glides on like a skater on ice, and the eyes wear a soft, hazy brown.

6:20 am. My computer is slow and I want to throw it out the window, but I cross my legs and wait patiently for Google Chrome to fucking work.

6:30 am. The company offers me a deal. $80 just to fix a fucking virus? Well, shit. Add it to the list I guess.

6:35 am. "I'm early. You almost here?"

6:45 am. Traffic is a bitch.

6:55 am. "Damn, you look like a mess. Are you okay?"

7:00 am. "That sucks, but hey I've got you covered. Here."

7:15 am. I'm slightly stoned. What's the schedule?

7:30 am. People are too damn crazy in the morning. The only thing I can appreciate about college is that I can make my own choices.

??? am. Fuck, has class really already started?

??? am. "There's a party at Vincent's tonight. Show up whenever, dress however."

I make note of this on my phone. "9:00pm party at Vincent's".

~*~_____~*~_____~*~

"No one really knows who he is." Travis scoot to the tip of his chair to put emphasis on his claims. "but he hosts all of Vincent's parties, and greets with everyone, but no one knows which could be him." Everyone looked around and met eyes with each other as if he is amongst us in this moment.

"How do you know the host isn't a hoax," someone asks.

"Well," he said, looking to the ground. "Truth is it could be a hoax-- but Vincent claims only he knows his host, so if he's talking about it then it's probably true."

Class gets out and I rush home to get ready. Vincent's parties always say "dress however", but that usually means dress slightly under semi-formal. My fingers run their way across my dresses and stop at the leather. Tonight's look is a leather, mesh-top bodysuit followed with studded buckle up combat boots.

What if I met the host?

I change into a white silk body suit and a gold chain belt.

Actually, I don't want to be the victim like last time.

I change for my 3rd time into a classic little black dress and simple red heels. I touch up my makeup and begin to weave the hot iron through my hair. A knocking pulses at my door. I flinch and the hot iron burns my scalp. FUCK.
I set down the iron and answer the door for the girls.

The pre-game alcohol burns it's way down my throat and I'm trying to check if Trixy is sober. She's doing a dance on my table and her heels are too high for her own good. See? She's fine.

~*~_____~*~_____~*~