“Luke, are you busy this weekend?” Michael asked. I snapped back to reality.
“Oh, uh, probably just mess around with my guitar.” I shyly answered. I don’t know why I always felt awkward about not having plans on the weekend. I know that Michael goes to a party every Friday and Saturday but that wasn’t my crowd. I don’t really know many people outside of school and I’m okay with that. I have my guitar and my cat named Peaches. That’s all I needed in this world. Sometimes I would wander the town and go on small adventures. Nothing big, fight a goblin or two. Normal stuff.
“There’s a party tonight. You going to come?”
“Nah. I don’t really like parties.”
“I’m sorry. I phrased that wrong,” Michael chuckled, “What are you wearing to the party tonight?” Michael stated giving me no option for not going.
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing now?” I asked offended that he would imply I need to change.
“Well, no offence buddy but the whole band shirt and ripped black skinny jeans are over done now.”
“I don’t have much.”
“It’s okay. After school we can drive to my house and you can borrow something.”
I didn’t reply. Michael and I were different physically and mentally. He was 6’ and he had tattoos. Girls were always all over him but he’s only had three girlfriends during his whole 18 years on this Earth. He’s a smart guy, no doubt, but he was also really street smart. We’ve been friends for over seven years now and I still couldn’t figure out how we handle each other. I’m not really into his style though. He looks good in it but it’s too fancy for me. He always wore button ups and nice (clean) jeans. It’s not that I don’t like his clothing. I would just feel really bad if I ruined it. I’m just a 6' 5'' lanky mess. Ever since I could remember I’ve always been a clutz. It happened all the time which was probably why I would stay home always. Or it could be my social anxiety, whichever.
School went on as normal. Luckily Michael and I both had 8th hour off so we went to his house to hang out before the party. I’ve never been to a real party before. Actually, I’ve been to my own fifth grade party which was absolutely amazing (not trying to brag). I have to be honest; I was a bit nervous about going to a party with Michael. The party wasn’t until 9 o’clock yet he decide to start drinking. He opened a beer and his closet and told me what I should wear. I refused to change my pants but I did put on one of his flannel shirts and buttoned it up all the way (his choice) and kept my black The Wonder Years beanie. He was in his usual dark jeans and button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up just enough to show his big scar on his left arm. He never told me where it came from; all he would ever say is “It doesn’t matter. Chicks dig scars, right?” So I figured he didn’t like talking about it so I dropped it. His hair was parted on the left and combed to perfection. I was jealous of how effortlessly he made his appearance look. I didn’t know what to do with the blonde mess of hair I had and I think he could tell that. He walked up to me with a brush and hairspray and pushed up the front of my hair and sprayed it in place. It showed off my elf-like ears and cover them back up with my beanie. He wasn’t drunk but I wasn’t going to let him drive either. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his leather jacket and popped one in his mouth and lit it with ease. I wasn’t comfortable with driving yet but it was only a few blocks. I bet we could have walked if we wanted but that wouldn’t “look cool” as if it mattered. I started the car and blasted the radio.
We pulled up and the place was packed. This was going to be interesting.
