Give To Skinny Love

//7

     Stuffy air. Sweaty bodies. Loud music. Oh yes, this was a party. I never realized how big our house was until Tyler opened the front door to a crowd of raging hormone teenagers. It was half past ten and the party only began an hour ago. The whole downstairs — even the kitchen and laundry room — was filled with grinding males and females.

     No matter how many times Tyler told me to wear whatever — because I'd look fine, he said — I focused all my might into this one outfit. I never really thought about what looked good on me, not even on picture day, until this one night. After many debates, I settled for ripped jean shorts and a loose indie band tee — The Beatles, to be more specific. I didn't want to look completely like what my brother usually scored, but I didn't want to ruin my brother's party either. This was something comfortable and socially acceptable; the best of both worlds. With my hair, it was slightly curled, the curls resting on top of chest and bouncing every so often.

     As soon as the party began, I lost sight of Tyler immediately. I wasn't as glum about it as I thought I'd be, but I wasn't thrilled either. I was back on my own until I saw either Christie or Luke. Hopefully Luke would show up. It might be the cliché thing girls do, but Luke made me feel happier and bubbly, which is what a party is, isn't it?

     On my way to the stairs someone grabbed my butt —like, they took a chunk of my butt and grasped onto it like it was a lifesaver. I turned around quickly to face my butt toucher and found none other than the infamous Damon O'Connell. He was the typical football jock. Just like Tyler he scored as many girls as possible and was a jerk bimbos fell for. Of course, I wasn't a part of that crowd, Tyler even lectured on me who not to let get under my skin or fall for. Damon was in the category.

     Damon probably expected me to slap him or flirt with him. He gave me the classic smirk that won him so many sex trophies. I'm not gonna lie, his messy light brown hair was super soft, and his eyes the deepest of blues that'd carry you out to sea; and I do have a weak spot for guys six foot and over. I could see how girls would fall for his tricks and be on their knees, but I knew better. I punched him square in his face. He stumbled back and rubbed his hands over the area I punched. I massaged my right hand; even if I was a tiny package of a girl, I packed one hell of a punch.

     “You bitch!" He shouted. I could hardly hear it over all the music playing — something by about a black widow by that Iggy girl. He came closer to me but I didn't back down. A couple people turned their heads in our direction and I knew he wouldn't do anything to ruin his reputation. “Who the hell do you think you are?" Damon yelled in my face, mere inches away.

     I couldn't see Tyler, Christie, or Luke, but I can stand up for myself. “Andrea Avila, that's who. And you are...?" I trailed off, cocking my head to the side. This obviously angered him and I shook my head, letting a small chuckle out.

     “I'm fucking Damon O'Connell. You should be kissing the ground I walk on, you little tramp," Damon's words hissed through his teeth. He obviously thought I was just some nerdy girl that found her way into this party. Partly true. But I wouldn't stand for that.

     “Oh! Pardon me, I'm so sorry, Damon. Here,” I rested my hands on his shoulder, leaning him closer down to my level. “How's this?” You wouldn't believe it, but I just kneed Damon O'Connell in his crotch. I laughed and his group of friends looked at me dumfounded, like they hadn't expected me to be so fiery.

     I began to walk back to the stairs but I felt someone yank on my wrist. Got to hand it to Damon, he was persistent enough. He brought me closer to him and whispered in my ear. “Oh, I'll get you back, Andrea. You can't hide behind this whole innocent façade and make Tyler protect you."