Deflower

Chapitre Un

Allistair felt like an atheist wearing upside down crosses around his olive-tainted neck in the midst a chamber filled with conservative Christians—literally. Accompanying his mom and papa had been one of the very few obligations he held toward them; seldom would he be found cleaning his room, or doing chores, because for that, his parents had hired a maid, or two. But going to church seemed a sacred activity to the Dupont household: he was certain that his mama would even take the damn cat if that was permitted.

Although the Dupont household was more than merely intimidating— made up of a façade of costly attire and even more expensive cars and chateaus abroad— nothing about them was real. With every breath that the Dupont family took, with every Chanel wearing, classical music listening gesture and word, they felt like walking, talking, clichés. They dare not to defy what others thought of them in their suburban neighborhood— they were part of the community with the white women with their white teeth in their white cars, and they fit like a puzzle piece. Allistair hated it.

He wasn't the only one. Kyle was in the same room, hand gently but tightly interlocked with the dainty right one of his little sister, no longer putting grand amounts of effort within suppressing his grin as the broad–shouldered man before him—them— rambled on about a tale that, according to the raven-haired boy, could in no manner be true. His eyes all too often crossed with the blue pair of Tommy (but they'd been forbidden by the latters mother to call him that, so when she was around, they solemnly addressed to him as Thomas) and though no words were uttered, their eyes spoke in fading letters.

Kyle had prayed that he wouldn't have to attend, this Sunday, but his prayers seemed to have faded, gone out like a candle in the wind; and rightfully, so, he supposed, for who had he prayed to, anyway? In a god he didn't believe in? The only god he believed in, was himself— the only person he was certain that he could trust and the one person he could count on through thick and thin; besides his best friends, of course. Allistair, in the midst of Kyle's plethora of thoughts, ricocheting like bullets through his minds, had coughed loudly, the sounds resonating from his chest and seemingly awakening all the attendees from a deep slumber— all eyes were on him.

Even Lourdes Guerrero's ones; those large, soulful brown ones, and Kyle had seen it. His eyes swept over her bare features, those plump lips that were solely used in ingénue ways but nonetheless reminded Allistair of things that weren't so ingénue—rather vulgar— and her button-nose, those black tresses of hair that were pulled in a loose updo... Even Thomas seemed incapable of not thinking of things he was otherwise so void of. Thomas was no prude, and he was no virgin, but in much contrast to his comrades, he did not look at a woman and instantly think of sex— but Lo, the nickname she was given by those acquainted with her, was so mysterious and innocent that it made her carry a certain sense of sultriness that boys could not shake. 

"Manners," mother Dupont hummed to her oldest son, whom hadn't flushed bright red like many would if all eyes were clustered upon him; no, in-fact, he enjoyed the attention. Most of all, the attention at the hands of the female audience members. "You should get some. At least apologize for intrudin', Allistair." The woman spoke, her southern accent heavy, and it certainly was when she was in distress or nervous. The latter, she was often. Perhaps not a good trait for a waitress, but—like she said it, herself— a pretty face is all you need.

"Excuse me, I guess," Allistair spoke with a discontent scowl upon his lip— one that was all too typical for his family, something that had aged all the members too, although his mother always denied the fact that she'd become an old woman—, the last part solely audible to those who sat next to him. Although many of those seated in the room seemed uninterested, Tom decided to pay attention— hence why he was the only one who noticed his words. Like when the girl seated before him in class said nothing, Thomas knew she and her boyfriend were going to break up. When said girl smiled, he knew they had made up once again. Thomas Porter knew very well that life was much easier when paying attention to the details.