Bad Boy Gone Shy

F O U R T E E N - (Party) Not on the Beer Pong Table!

F O U R T E E N - (Party) Not on the Beer Pong Table!

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The dance floor was dark, speckled with a variety of coloured lights. Jasmine couldn't help but question why the lights were turned off until she realised that the vast majority of people wanted their bad dance moves hidden from view. 

She could feel the music pulsating beneath her feet as if a stereo had been buried under the tiles and a newfound energy coursing through her veins, urging her to begin dancing. Edward appeared behind her shoulder, panting as if he had just completed 'The Amazing Race.' "Finally!" He exclaimed, clearly out of breath. "I thought I had to mow through another crowd of 'em Blackwater gangs!" He peered up at her, crouching to catch his breath. "You're actually kind of fast for a drunk girl, you know that?"

"No," Jasmine yelled above the music. "I thought I was supposed to be fat and slow."

"Fat?" Edward frowned, stretching his back. "How are you fat?"

Jasmine rolled her eyes. Here she was, finally getting over her phobia of loud things and tight spaces, having 'fun' without the constant feeling that she was being watched and judged, and here this boy was, mocking her. "Isn't it obvious?" Jasmine pointed at her stomach. "Duh."

Edward cocked his head in confusion and looked her up and down. "You're not fat at all, Jasmine Winters." He leaned in towards her, and for a split second, Jasmine swore she was sober. "Don't tell me I'm the first to have told you this."

She shuddered and moved away from him, stumbling backward and hitting herself into a chest. No, not again. Without turning back to see who she had bumped into, Jasmine ran into the crowd of stinky teenagers, only for a strong, slender hand to grip her wrist. "What the-"

"Oi, Snowflake." Jasmine whipped her head around, attempting to wriggle her wrist out of his grasp. "I think I jumbled up some words back in that room."

She allowed herself to scan his gloriously lean face with a glint of hatred in her eyes. "You said it." She growled. "You said what you meant and I understood!"

"Yeah, I said it," He tightened his grip on her wrist. "but I don't think it was entirely true-"

"This is all crap." Jasmine pulled her hand from his. "This week is crap, you are crap, and everything is just crap."

"I'd hate to say that I'm sorry too but-"

"It's all crap-"

"Jasmine, are you done with the 'crap'(s)?"

"No." Jasmine incorporated large gestures of her arms, nearly tripping over her own shoes. "I want another drink."

She managed to walk herself over to the refreshment table and dip a large red cup into a punch of some sort. "Jasmine, don't dr-" Jasmine choked on the bitter flavour of the punch spreading across her tongue and chucked the remnants of the drink into what looked like a bin. 

"That," She wiped her mouth using the back of her hand. "was gross."

Heath appeared beside her in a matter of seconds. "You're drunk." He said, disgust hinting in his voice. "Jasmine, what were you doing after you left?"

"Dissing you." A clumsy smile played on her lips as Heath gripped her shoulders.

"And drinking." He sternly said. "How much did you take?"

"None of your business." Jasmine slurred, pushing his hands off her shoulders. "I'm going to dance."

"No, you are NOT." Heath grabbed her arm and led her away from the refreshment table. "You are going home...NOW."