Running For The Thrill of It.

Story Three

When It came to alcohol.

        Harry had already been partying. He ha much less to lose than I had. I was much more cautious than he and it didn't phase him one bit. He invited me to the next party he was going to and said that it would be another night of thrills. I followed him like a lost puppy becuase that's exactly what I was when it came to him: lost.        

        He wore black jeans tighter than mine and a loose green pullover in coordination with the weather. I wore a pair of tight burgundy pair of jeans and a plain black long sleeve that had a low enough neckline for cleavage. I remember because he couldn't take his eyes off of me the entire night.

        He brought me to a two story  home with multiple cars in the front of it. He parked and held my hand as we went inside. Receiving greetings from pals he's encounter in past parties, such as:

        "Styles, is back again!"

        "Well, look who it is? The party animal himself!"

        Harry went straight for the kitchen with my hand still in his and pulling me behind him, carefull guiding me through the buzzed and drugged up teenagers. Upon reaching the kitchen, Harry let's go of my hand only to pick me up and place me on a clear spot on the counter.

        "Excuse me," he hollered loud enough to alert the people crowding the kitchen. Once he'd gotten their attention he smiled to continue giving his small speech.

        "This is my friend Rachel," he hollered again, gesturing to me and triggering the heat that invaded my cheeks. The small crowd before us greeted, "Hey, Rachel." 

        "Tonight, " Harry continued, " Rachel will be having her VERY FIRST glass of alcohol!" 

        After he exclaimed this, the rest of the kitchen did as well, the cheers made those outside of the kitchen curious and they joined the crowd.

        Harry turned around to pour into a red plastic cup the contents of a bottle with the word vodka written on it.

        "Here you go, my lovely. Drink up." he whispered in my ear, sending nervous chills down my spine. The crowd stared at me, awaiting the golden gulp I would take. 

        I put the glass to my lips and drank quickly, knowing that if I hadn't I wouldn've spit the liquid out. The crowd waited for my to take the empty cup away from my lips, and for dramatic afffect crush it in my fingers, to cheer for the first and certainly not the last sip of alcohol I'd be having that night. 

        Beomg so wasted, the lasting thing I actually remember was a proud smirk from Harry and his lips pressing onto mine.