Repainted {Camila/You}

9

The sun had set long ago, yet there Alycia was, still in her mirror swirling makeup onto her face. She'd forced me to shower again, then to put on some of her own clothes instead of my signature ripped jeans and crop top. I was now wearing a strappy black shirt with high waisted jeans. Since she was smaller, they were tighter on me then they were on her, and there was enough skin showing to attract an entire colony of people; I was throughly uncomfortable as I shifted by the doorway, trying to make my figure less noticeable.

"Quit it," she sighed, pulling her eyes away from her reflection to glance at me, "You look great."

"Do I?" I challenged, rolling my eyes in annoyance. I was much better off just wearing my own clothes.

"Yes, you do. I tell you this all the time, you're just too stubborn to listen to me."

"Whatever."

The brunette put her makeup brushes down and crossed the room, "What's your problem, hm? What did I do to you?" She was in front of me now, eyeing me down, a glint of mischief behind her eyes that seemed to change colors slightly with her mood. Her voice dropped to a deep, gravelly rumble; I couldn't lie and say I wasn't slightly intimidated by the smaller girl, but I shrugged coolly, crossing my arms over my exposed chest.

"You made me put this on."

"And I can make you take it off later," she responded just as easily, "Now can we go without your attitude?" Shock-waves of heated rippled through my body and I couldn't help but to grin sheepishly acquiescing to her question. We both grabbed our belongings and jackets, heading out of the dorm.

The party was a few blocks away, but in the chilly weather, it seemed like forever. By the time we arrived at the brick apartment covered in ivy, my fingers and toes were numb and frozen, and Alycia's nose had turned a bright red color. We both scrambled for the door and let ourselves in, the heated lobby beginning tho thaw us out, "You okay?" she breathed, trying to blow warm air onto her fingers, then cupping mine in her hands and blowing on those as well.

"I am," I nodded quickly, glancing over my shoulder. Parties always made me nervous, especially the initial first few moments, "It's upstairs, right?" 

"Eager much?" After a drink or two, I knew the knot in my stomach would loosen and i'd be able to have some fun. 

I swapped the position of our hands and tugged the shorter girl up the stairs, towards the sound of music. I could hear the bass thumping through the building and simply followed the sound until it grew louder and louder. We finally reached the landing that it was coming from and then walked into the dimly lit hallway. The smell of stale beer and cigarettes was nauseating as we approached the door at the end of the hall where the sounds were coming from. Now the music was mixed with the low chatter of people's voices. Alycia knocked on the door, then realized no one could hear and pushed it open, whisking us into a room of sweaty bodies and movement. I shut the door behind me and fell back against it, the heat of the room sucking the energy out of me. There were people shoved into every corner of the small apartment, their skin creating a musky damp smell. The music was shockingly loud, and I couldn't tell if the heat and sweat collecting on my face was from the amount of body heat, or from nerves. Alycia now took the lead, pulling me through the heap of humans gyrating against each other and towards the single lit room in the house: the kitchen. There were much fewer people in the kitchenette, but there were bottles of alcohol everywhere. I grabbed the nearest bottle of vodka and poured myself a large red cup full while the girl spotted some of her friends. She waltzed up to a girl who sat by the refrigerator in her black combat boots, along with a tall guy in a flannel, "Ceaser, Ari, what's up?"

"Alycia! Where have you been, we thought you dropped out?" The girl, Ari, shouted over the music, standing to give her friend a hug.

"This your girl?" Ceaser asked, licking his lips as he eyes me seductively. I shot him an annoyed look; he was no where near my type, and the way he was ogling me like I was a food item was revolting.