binded

zane ; the party

At 6:45, I begin my drive to the party at whoever's parents were dumb enough to allow their child alone while knowing that their liquor cabinet is unlocked to their child's disposal. I know that the parking by the house will be atrocious, but I'll figure something out.

I don't even need to use my phone's GPS to figure out where the house is because I can hear whatever shitty music plays. It's not even that the music is bad, there is just too much bass and it begins to give me a headache prior to exiting my car.

When I find a parking spot, I shut off my car and fish in my pocket for the poem that I had written during math. Something about Grace sparked a piece of inspiration and I impulsively chose to write her a secret admirer poem and sneak it into her pocket during the party.

on a night dark and cold

my vision becomes hazed

yet your face is so bold

and your eyes are ablaze

the words that you say

drip like honey

and the words you say

make me feel funny

the walls surrounding are

painted with letters

your voice is never far

you speak them light as feathers

I remember to add at the way bottom that I'm not the best with words or expressing myself. Grace may think it's dumb, even I think that it is! However, I want to know her reaction to my feelings. Will she assume that my attraction is all a game, that all I wish to do is manipulate her.

I ignore every thought that I have and enter the house without a second thought. Sweaty bodies grind against each other and red solo cups illuminate the room. A song with an overwhelming beat drop that causes the entire house to tremble plays through speakers scattered around the living room. The vibe of the house is pure discord, complete chaos. There is no possible way that I will be able to find Grace in the pandemonium, so I decided that while I can, I'm going to have fun.

My first hour in the party flies by as the plastic cup in my hand has been refilled more times than I can recall. There is a taste that ignites my tongue and scalds my throat. A fire burns within my stomach acid and I believe that I am floating throughout the house. Or that could be the contact high from the circle of girls smoking pot.

At one point, I'm grinding with a girl and she wonders why she hasn't given me an erection after nearly ten minutes of her ass to my crotch. Maybe if I had a dick and you didn't reek of Victoria's Secret perfume that you stole from your mom's bathroom.

She eventually leaves and a hand brushes against my arm, stroking it. The touch is too familiar and I turn around, everything becoming a subtle blur.

"Well, if it isn't Zane Lawrence." a feminine voice says. Her appearance is a large puff of curly hair and I grin.

"And if it isn't Gracelyn Russell." I announce, my words slightly slurred.