Bad Boy Gone Shy

F I F T E E N - Rolando and Juliane

F I F T E E N - Rolando and Juliane

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Jasmine screamed as the monster caught up to her- a monster that looked suspiciously a lot like Heath Parker. Its tousled blond mane flew in the wind and a handsome smile was stretched across its chiseled face, turning wicked as Jasmine began slowing down, her legs stumbling from exhaustion.

Thump thump thump. The monster was catching up to her. Thump, thump, thump.
Jasmine wrapped her arms around her head as 'Heath Parker the beast' stretched its black hole of a mouth open, devouring her whole.

"Arghghghghgh!" She pushed herself into a sitting position and regretted it immediately, as a searing pain pierced her head. Her tongue seemed to ache too, as well as her throat-like a scaly creature had slithered into her mouth, or like she had swallowed a porcupine whole. Perhaps that wasn't too unlikely, for the noise that had come out of her mouth resembled that of a dying animal.

She grumbled, rubbing her head with two fingers, and scanned the room she had obviously spent the night in. Creamy, white walls surrounded her, bare of any posters, sticky notes or paintings that were usually found in bedrooms. The walls bent to form the edges of the ceiling, then towered over Jasmine in the shape of a pyramid. Beside the bed was a wooden drawer, and sitting on it was an eloquent lamp, and a single framed picture, hoisting itself up to show-off the gleaming smiles in the photo- Jasmine's, Patricia's, Hilda's, Aadya's, and Phoebe's. The room could only belong to one person in the world. Patricia.

How the bloody hell had she ended up there?

Jasmine pushed herself back down on the bed and tried to remember the events of the night before. 
She had gone to Annica's party in a nice outfit, picked out by Jonathan, and walked arm in arm with Elaine to the house. 

She had accidentally bumped into Bulldog, and spilled his Fanta. Bulldog had tossed her into the water, she had gotten mad at Heath (looking back, she didn't exactly feel the same rage as she had the night before), and joined Edward Marcus for a drink.

Jasmine then remembered the game of Beer Pong, and how amazingly tense it had been...and then....and then...

Wait...what had happened after that?

Jasmine racked her brain for the answer and jumped in shock as the disturbing image of her climbing onto a table popped into her head. And what had she done after that? She gasped and scrambled into the sheets, burying her face in the pillow. 

Danced...she had climbed the bloody table and danced!

And what? What had she done afterward?
What more embarrassing memories did she have to endure?

The good news was that she didn't quite remember.

The bad news was that she had danced! DANCED! Curse the devil that had possessed her to do such a thing!

Then it dawned on her. 
After dancing, she had gone ahead and done the most stupid, and embarrassing thing any eighteen-year-old could have ever done-puked...not in the toilet, not on Annica Stilton's perfectly mowed lawn...but all over the floor, right in the middle of a cheering crowd.

And for some reason she could not remember, she had ended up lying on Patricia's bed, boring imaginary holes into the ceiling.

Jasmine had to stuff her mouth with sheets to stifle a horrible, blood-curdling scream.

Thud! "Did someone just die?"

Jasmine felt her eyes flood with hot tears as her best friend appeared behind the door, an apron slung over her neck and her hair a tad bit wild. "Pat," she whispered, clambering onto the floor. There was no denying that she had missed Patricia terribly, especially when neither of them had talked for days. Jasmine ignored the pain rushing through her body and flung herself into Pat's arms, letting her tears dribble down her face.