Brothers, Smelly Socks and One House. Oh No...

Nightmares and Sweet Dreams

"Are you almost ready?" Abby asked from behind the privacy screen in my room. "I want to get there before the party's over."

"Hold on, I'm almost done," I say, zipping up the little dress and shaking my body in it. It was the smallest size they sold and yet it still fit slim, not tight like it was meant to. "Alright."

I stepped out in my sky high heels and Abby took one look before bursting in giggles. "It's Halloween, Di, not Fourth of July."

"One, I'm not being patriotic, I know very well what holiday it is," I then proceed to fluff out my big Hollywood curls and turn my nose up in a snotty fashion. "I'm everyone's worst nightmare: an American teenager."

Abby rolls her eyes and adjusts her mouse ears, smoothing out her furry grey dress and thigh high suede boots. "Whatever, now that you explained it, I'm genuinely frightened."

I took a peek in the mirror at myself. My blonde hair was styled in large, blown out curls and my makeup looked whorish. Bright red lipstick and shine, along with a smear of smoke on my eyelids and the biggest, glittery fake eyelashes I've ever seen. Blush acted like highlighter on my overly pale skin, shimmering on my prominent cheekbones.

The outfit it self was mind blowing and simple. An entirely sequined dress in resemblance to the American flag, paired with a laughable showy bra Abby picked up at the department store and her tallest pair of navy heels. I put on little gold stars for earrings and made sure my hair covered the scars on my back the dress didn't.

"Do I look to slutty?" I ask as I eye the black bra peeking out the top of the dress's neckline.

"No," Abby tossed me an over coat (like the boys were really letting me leave the house in this!) "It's only the corners showing, and you said American teenager, you're pulling it off better than me. And I'm a native!"

"Alright then," I button up the high collared blue coat, brushing it over my knees. "Lets go."

I was going to my first high school party. And in the spirit of adolescence, they boys had no clue of the truth. Abby and I had convincingly told them we were going to a movie on the fancy side of town and then spending the night at her house. Seemed reasonable.

"I'm leaving, bye!" I called out as I opened the door. We paused as there was no answer. The house was at its rare status of vacancy. Better not to caught all primped in the doorway. I followed Abby to her little car and unbuttoned my coat to a reasonable amount of my small cleavage, no longer itching at my throat.

It's cold for California, though it is October, nearly November.

We walked into the party house and I no longer felt the chill, just dampness from too close dancing and intoxication. Abby took my jacket and hers, tossing them in her car and meeting me in the kitchen-turned-bar. We each chugged a first beer and then went to the dance floor.

I must say, random dancing feels a whole lot less awkward with a bit of alcohol in my bloodstream. I loosened my hips and swung, laughing at nothing with Abby.

"Oh look! It's Logan!" I pointed after the fourth drink, Abby and I stumbling towards him. Why did I wear heals? "Hi Logibear! Have I ever told you you're a good dancer?"

Logan smiled sweetly at us as we draped our arms around him in struggling hugs. "Oh boy, you ladies look why happier then me."

"A couple of drinks do that to you," Abby said, we unmatched from him and went back to dancing. I felt hands on my hips and was sober enough to push them away as they moved to travel in dirty places.

"You know you're being a little tease," a voice said in my ear. I turned to see-actually I'll let you guess!

One chance!

Yep, it was none other than a completely random dude that I haven't seen in my life. "How so?"

His eyebrows rose at my slurred accent. "Your outfit."

"Can you guess what I am?" I danced as he stood, looking at me.

"American trash," he commented with a nervous smile.

I thought for a moment, trying to remember what I was. Man, maybe I had one too many drinks. "Close enough. What's your name?"

"Wes," he said.

"I'm Di, but I'm not dying, that's just my nickname."

And he laughed. And we danced, we drank, I don't exactly remember what we talked about, but I think he must be funny because I laughed a lot.

But then he left, I was getting a drink and poof! Wes is in the wind. Oh well.

"You look good in sparkles," someone said in a deep voice. I turned to see Michael, wearing a dark t-shirt and jeans. "Are you a patriotic showgirl?"

"I don't know anymore," I sigh and take a drink. "Where's your costume?"

"I don't need one sweetheart," he whispered. I think I blushed, dammit, I'm not supposed to like this kid!

I rolled my eyes and went to the dance floor, only too aware of how close he was, following me. He was nearly grinding on me as I danced and uncharacteristically smiley. "Shouldn't you be hooking up with someone right about now?"

"I've already made it clear," he said in my ear. "There's only one girl I'm interested in. Unfortunately, I can't seem to charm her into a date."

"I wasn't aware you had charm, Mr. Royce." I say as I turn around and dance again. I barely noticed as he walked away and came back, hands gripping my waist and breath hot on my neck.

"How's this for charm?" He asks as a new song starts. It was a party remix, with the beat for partner dancing. Odd.

What was more odd was how his grip tightened on me, pulling me closer. I reflexively caught my stumble towards him by catching on his shoulder and raised hand. He smirked and held me closer.

Then we began to dance. He positioned his legs so that mine were lunging between his with each step. People cleared away as they saw us start this civilian dancing with the stars.

I know the rules of common dancing. Let the man lead. But he was guiding me into tricks, prepping me into spins and dips. His hand tingled where it lay stretched across my lower back, the other gently, yet firmly gripping my hand whole.

My breath caught as his hand released mine and slid to my hips, giving a warning squeeze. He lifted me and turned, my body naturally angling as I tuck one foot under my bum and pointed the other straight out. I barely caught myself as he set me back down, my back leg setting down as the other wrapped around his hamstring.

I unwrapped myself as he spun me into a last dip. My arms flying up to grip around his neck and my leg tucking up for balance.

He righted me and held me close as a new song began. "I wonder if my interest is charmed yet to go on a date with me?"

I gaped like a fish, unable to speak. He smiled wider. "Would you do me the pleasure of accompanying me on a date, Ms. Scott?"

I tried to come up with a witty remark, a polite decline to excuse myself from this event he asked my attendance to. But it was like my brain couldn't comprehend what just happened, it was flabbergasted. I was flabbergasted. Somehow I gathered enough wit to utter one thing. "If I agree to it, will you stop bothering me too go on one with you?"

I wanted to smack myself. Walked into that one, I did. He grinned impossibly bigger, a twinkle growing in his eyes. "I'll pick you up at 10 am on Sunday. See you than Scott."

And that is how I ended up with a date with Michael Royce.