You're My Kind Of Wrong

Chapter Nine

Poppy's Playlist for Chapter Nine:
▪︎ Call Out My Name - The Weeknd
▪︎ Someone You Loved - Lewis Capaldi
▪︎ breathin' - Ariana Grande
▪︎ Clean - Taylor Swift
▪︎ Shout Out to My Ex - Little Mix

Olly's Playlist for Chapter Nine:
▪︎ One Thing Right - Marshmello, Kane Brown
▪︎ YOUTH - Troye Sivan
▪︎ If I Can't Have You - Shawn Mendes
▪︎ Better Now - Post Malone

Elizabeth

My hands touch the bathroom door, my long red nails touch wood, producing a clicking sound, and I push it wide open. Poppy and Sloane walk at my heels, with arms intertwined so they don't tumble and fall, or at least if they do, they do so together. The clicking and clacking of their designer shoes echo on the corridor. They are wobbly and unsteady, walking like you'd walk on a ship sailing on a turbulent sea.

As I walk through the threshold, I am struck with a waft of fresh limes. The room is pristine with its smooth white walls and shining golden fixtures. I close my eyes a couple of times trying to put things into better focus. Everything around me is a little out of it as a result of all the drinks I had.

So far, the party has shown itself to be quite eventful and also, quite a handful.

I turn to P. "How's it going, baby girl?"

"I'm fine! Isn't daddy's party great?" Her eyes shine.

I raise one eyebrow. "Sure it's nice, but I can't shake the feeling that it might've been easier to learn how to juggle knives in the circus rather than juggling all these people that belong to our past and keeping them in check." I shift my weight uncomfortably.

"You need to relax, babe. Have some more champagne." Poppy waves one hand in dismissal and points to the bar.

"I do not enjoy this blast from the past scenario the slightest bit." I cross my arms, taking a stand.

"I know you don't. Just try to rise above it," Kitty intervenes.

I bite my lip and look around. Maybe they're right. "Ok, ok. You are sure you're ok, Popps? There's nothing you would like to share, maybe what Josh said before?"

P. shakes her head left and right, letting her shiny hair move in the air agreeing with her.

"Fine," I agree to let go. I have to let go.
I guess it is too raw and bitter for her; yet, she shoved it into a box, stuffed it in the back of her deepest thoughts and chose to rise above it. Smart decision.

The girls are giddy, with silly smiles plastered across their faces and flustered cheeks. Another side effect of the open bar.

I look at myself in the mirror. My reflection is a dead giveaway of the night's events. My red lipstick is smeared and my hair is slightly tangled. I drag my thumb around my bottom lip trying to contain the lipstick inside my lip lines. I run my fingers through my hair trying to comb it. When I feel the knots loosing on my fingers, I scrunch it to give it texture.

I lean against the countertop; my shiny body, slightly sweaty from all the dancing, shivers from coming into contact with the cold marble. I need to fix my makeup so I start rummaging through my bag trying to reach the small frosted metal tube of lipstick. My hand touches all sides of the bag and I still come up empty. Shit, I might be drunker than I thought.

My eyes travel to Sloane and Popps talking. Poppy is admiring her reflection in the mirror, holding a mascara tube, and using her hands to gesticulate widely. She stops every few seconds to paint another coat of black paint to her lashes.

Sloane smiles constantly and laughs with her drunken friend, she knows that Poppy needs more care than I do at the moment.

P. dips the wand into the soft squeeze tube, lathering it in black ink. "You know, Kitty, the first time Lizzie introduced me to you I was so pissed off. I was sure this 'Kitty' thing you had was some sort of private joke or something. I was so jealous! I mean, your name is Sloane, how come your nickname was Kitty?"