Playing With Fire || d.h

67. No More Teen Angst

A/N: having pink hair is harder than you'd expect. And considering I've had my hair pink for over a year now, you'd think I'd have come up with some sort of strategy to maintain it.

Nope.

Except for that rough patch, everything seems to be going well. Macy and Kenny have taken a liking to Dan, and he seems a lot less stressed, and more like himself. Jack sits next to Macy, and seems rather indifferent to Dan. He had always been somewhat of a jerk, but was always incredibly nice to me.

"Seriously, though, (y/n), you look so good," Macy gushes. "Like, way better than the last time I saw you."

"Yeah, she's right," Jack agrees, chuckling slightly. "You almost look sober."

Dan coughs on a chip, and I nearly choke on my spit. Jack, Kenny, and Macy all look at us like we're crazy, and I only now realize they think I still take drugs.

"Um, I actually am," I reply. "Sober, I mean."

They all give me wide-eyed looks, seeming to need a second to take in what I just said. Jacks the one to break the silence.

"Why?"

I look down at my feet awkwardly. "Um, I just wanted to get rid of that part of my life," I reply. "I mean, I still drink, but I don't do drugs or anything."

The room falls into awkward silence, but luckily, my mom walks in, along with four of my other friends I haven't seen in forever.

"Oh! Hey!" I stand up, quickly giving them all hugs, and that awkward conversation seems to be over, thankfully.

Luckily, more people keep showing up, and the house is filled with enough people that I don't have to keep everyone entertained at the same time. If there's one thing I'm not good at, it's hosting a party.

It takes me a moment to realize that I'm not even meant to be the one hosting the party, and I wonder where my mom's gone off to. I do a three-sixty, but don't see her, and give up.

I continue talking to people I haven't seen in forever. To be honest, however, a lot of them I haven't even thought about since I moved. I feel like that statement is a great example of the relationships I had before going to London.

Dan and I are sitting incredibly close to each other close to each other on one of the packed couches, to the point that I'm basically sitting on his lap. Everyone's sitting around, talking and drinking, and I try my best to ignore the smell of cigarettes and weed drifting from people's clothes. Luckily, no one's complained about not being able to smoke at the party, but I'm sure at least half of them did beforehand.

"So, how did you guys meet?" Macy asks me, plopping a chip in her mouth.

I look at Dan, who shrugs his shoulder. "I, um, I actually met him the day I moved to London. He lives in the apartment across from mine."

Macy raises her eyebrows. "Oh, when did you start dating?"

I think about it for a second, before replying, "Um, I dunno, a few months after that."

"Weren't you dating that other guy?" She asks, and a stone forms in my chest. "PJ?"

Dan suddenly coughs, and I clear my throat. "Um, he's in jail, now," I mumble.

"Oh...oh!" Her eyes widen, and I can tell by her expression that she wishes she could take the question back. "Sorry."

"It's no problem," I reply. "He's gone, and I don't have to deal with him."

Suddenly, I hear a snort come from beside me, and I turn to my friend Ben. I can instantly tell by his bloodshot eyes that he's definitely high.

"What're you laughing at?" I ask, rather aggressively.