Miss Personality

How to Party

So here goes. My fabulous party.

And by that I mean my excruciatingly long, random, useless party.

Just to clear something up, I do like parties. But I think it's stupid to have a party for no reason. A birthday or holiday party makes sense, but random parties are for fancy socialites. I may be a fancy socialite, but sometimes I want to spend my weekends hanging out with my friends, going on a date, or god forbid, actually relaxing by myself.

But now, to the party.

My best friends Clarissa, Shane, and Lydia are waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs coming from my bedroom.

My bedroom is a really posh and good-sized attic.

Once I got down to my friends, they all started squealing like in the movies. But this wasn't about gossip or boys. This was, as you might have predicted, about clothes.

"Oh. My. God," Lydia started, "You like absolutely gorgeous! I cannot believe that it is possible for a person to look so cute and hot at the same time!"

As usual, I countered with my own barrage of compliments to all three girls. "Well, I obviously have great looking friends to look fabulous with me! You guys never cease to amaze with fashion. And Shane- best pumps ever."

As much as I hate shopping for clothes, I do love looking at them. And her pumps really were impeccable.

Now, the gossip starts. Not from my friends, but from all the people around us.

As we walk around my parents' close-to mansion, the murmurs follow us. People love talking about rich girls and their friends. But honestly, that's okay with me. I do live an interesting life. People are allowed to have their own opinions. That's just life.

We gaze at food longingly, wishing that we didn't know what it really was so that we could at least sample the delectable looking food.

But alas, we were destined to starve at every party my parents threw. Which is why I had a hidden stash of chips and basically just good galore.

Hey, skinny girls gotta eat.

Awhile later, my parents call everyone into the main room so that they can talk about whatever they usually talk about. I never listen, so I have no idea what they blabber on about.

After that's over, the girls and I separate. Now we can mingle and talk to cute boys and pretty much everyone. But mostly cute boys.

I walk over to the coolers to get a Diet Cole. That area is crowded with people because my parents only break out the beer after their speech so that people will stay longer instead of just leaving as soon as they get drunk. Usually by the end of the parties, my girls and I are watching a movie in my room since everyone at the house is in a violent, drunk stupor.

As I finally grab my Cole from the cooler, as piece of ice sticks to the can, then slowly, slowly falls off the can... And onto a very expensive shoe.

I look up into wet shoe owner's face, and all I can do is stare.

His deep forest green eyes entrance me, while his bubbly smile and perfect teeth make me wither, and his rosy cheeks bob on his tan face as he talks about the ice on his shoe...

Right. That embarrassing thing just happened.

Of all the people that I could have dropped ice on, thank God it was him.

I wish it wasn't so embarrassing. But the good thing about dropping ice on Quincy was that he hated those shoes. He played basketball and would've given anything to be wearing gym shorts, a muscle shirt, and tennis shoes.