Her Dog Days

✲ chapter nine ✲

Aston parks his car a few blocks away from Suzy's house, not like there was any parking in front of her house anyways. We walk among the few scattered people who head to the enormous three-story house awaiting us. The front gates of her house are completely open, guarded by two golden, yet rustic, lion statues on each side. I couldn't help but graze my fingers on the cold expensive metal as we made it past the gates.

This setting couldn't feel any more of a teen cliche party you see in movies. Pretty girls and handsome boys scattered in the front lawn and inside the house, partying it up-- and maybe throwing it up.

Then there's me; the simpleton outcast who's never been to a party and experienced the "American teenage life." Aston's the one boy who decides to befriend the outcast and show the ways of the average teenager, to properly live.

Usually what happens next is that the outcast gets incredibly drunk and shows off her inner beast hiding within her, dancing on top of tables and flashing people by simply lifting her shirt.

And I can assure you that will not happen tonight.

We finally make our way into the house and can I just say that I'm wowed.

As you pass the tall dark oak doors, you're greeted with the shiniest white pearl marble on the floor and two staircases that make their way up to form into one big balcony. Going straight forward pass the stairs, you see the kitchen-- which I'm dying to explore, and beyond that is the backyard.

Like a kid in a candy store, I glance at every inch of Suzy's house, from the gaps between each tile to the dust piling on the glass chandelier hanging above us.

"Ahhhhh," Is all I could manage out of my mouth. Aston looks at me warily and rolls his eyes.

"It's not that fancy, I've seen better." My mouth drops and looks at him with a bewildered look.

I believe the lights Suzy has installed are smart, so they're able to change color because the house is a mix of blue, green and pink. Teenagers-- and maybe adults are spread across the mansion, conversing and drinking together; some on the stairs chatting or sitting on the floor.

Taking me by surprise, Aston grabs my hand and steers us toward the kitchen. As we passed through the hoard of hormones, they patted Aston's back and even complimented him on the Instagram pictures I took. Once Aston got out of their sight, they fixed their eyes on me, some random girl holding hands with the bad boy royalty.

Did someone order an outcast? Anyone? No?

I averted my gaze to Aston's hand to avoid the eyes burning holes behind my head until we made it into the kitchen.

Isn't it just the worst feeling to have everyone look at you, especially with a distasteful expression? I can add this moment to my top-ten-horrifying-moments list.

The cabinets are made out with black wood, cabinet doors are covered with frosted glass, and the countertops are a gorgeous grey granite marble. People are seated on top of the counter or leaning against is, holding the infamous red Solo cup in hand. I didn't even notice Aston hand me some jungle juice in the red Solo cups until he poked my side.

I jump up in place. "Your drink," Aston shouts, taking a sip of his cup. "Thanks."

I take a sip of the concoction and instantly scrunch my face.

Too many flavors happening at the same time.

My eyes were closed but I could tell by the sound I'm so used to, Aston was having a circus with my reaction. I jokingly gave him a bothered expression and roll my eyes with a smile.