Heartthrob of Aclea

Chapter 19 - I Slept With Mum's Assistant

When I meant an after-party, I didn't mean a formal event with a jazz playing in the background, or people with their endless chattering about bidding on paintings, preloved stuff and unique sculptures that a museum would pay mountainous grand to present them in some of the empty glass boxes. Brian had landed a job for me to be the host of the party, so I did what I could. Liquors and rock music from Panic! At The Disco, Fall Out Boy and Imagine Dragons were our companions for tonight, except I could only watch people downing them the expensive spirit instead of joining those wastrels getting drunk. Being sober most of the time urged my brain to function very effectively - asking the waiters to serve the guests, arranging what songs the deejay should play, making sure the guests didn't trash the place - and I was kind of proud of myself for not involving in any fights since the party started. Well, at least not yet.

I held the party in my mansion - that was no longer kept in secrecy pfftt because of my busybody security details - and only invited the youngsters. The cold night air scented with strong fumes of alcohols and resonated with tunes of certain music that I'd be singing during a shower. Jared - or should I say, Jay - came all the way from Los Angeles just to put me in a room of jealousy by emptying the whole bottle of Pinot noir, my favourite. Jay was an alright bloke with a dirty blond wave swirling right over his head in a goodly fashion. We met last summer, clicking glasses during the peak of his career; modelling for Marc Jacobs by day and partying in the night. A party without him was like a club without a dancefloor. He was a kind of guy who you could banter in a nasty way without having to accept an offensive slap in the face. Nothing was personal and nothing was off-limits.

'Dude, come on. Have a sip. Momma's not here to scold ya!' His slurry speech accented with American.

'No can do, Jay. I've got to come clean in every matter.' I shook my head when he offered me a fag. My brain went delusional for the reason of nicotine and alcohol deprivation, but I couldn't let them destroy me. I need to once become a winner in the war I had created for myself. Jay's phone rang a minute later and he abruptly tapped on the phone icon before saying 'Hang on, Aaron. This is urgent' and rushing off to the balcony. I didn't mind being left alone in a bunch of wild, charming goers who kept pressuring me to please them because suddenly, the lyrics from The Sharpest Lives by My Chemical Romance blasted from every speaker that existed in the room.

Her angelic voice sounded so beautiful, I was awestruck until the last note was played. Without looking at its owner, I could already guess whose sound belonged to. Swimming through a sea of people, I was then greeted by a view of ravishing, petite eight in red. Her long black hair was set free. Her closed eyes showed a sign of indulging in the fantasy she made. Her glam make-up highlighted her striking features - high cheekbones, fierce eyebrows, dark lips - and the sick beat she'd been manipulating urged us to go all shake it off. She was wearing a strapless dress that revealed much of her skin. The easy sway of her hips invited a man's touch.

I neared her.

And here I was, inches away from her.

'Hey, how you doing?' I tried to quote Joey from Friends with an American accent, hoping she would be impressed. But instead, all I got was an explosion of silly guffaw that only Annabelle could make it so cute and addictive.

'Oh, my God. Aaron, you and American are a big no-no! Regardless, nice try.' She pinched my cheek and I was a tad blushing.

'I came to your party yeay! I was late if you noticed, so I made you a surprise. Hope you don't mind me singing MCR.' A grin plastered across her face to tell a tale of how deep her devotion was towards the emo band. I loved MCR. I used to be emo during my high school years. Ah, good ole days! We were vibing for a few minutes before I reached for her hand and walked her towards a bar.

'So, this is how you ask someone to have a drink with you? More like you are forcing them.' She laughed. She took a seat next to me.

'I've never said this one is on me.' I reasoned.

'Mr Bartender, put ours in his tab!' Annabelle tapped her fingers on the table to distract the bartender. I pulled a face of 'oi, how dare you do that' and she just let out another hearty laugh. I asked her whether she was high or not. She'd been chuckling endlessly since we met.

'Am not. You yourself is a form of walking joke.' Annabelle replied. She ordered a whiskey for herself and a lemonade for me. And then, we made small talk about the weather, how did I recruit the strippers and how much this building cost. The talk went smoothly with some dirty jokes and cheesy, I-almost-chunder pick-up lines stuck in between. The awkwardness evaporated as the night went darker.

She talked like she knew the world like the back of her hand. Knowing her, she'd always had a ferocious aggressiveness anchored in her soul wherever she went. She didn't fall for guys easily and she hardly gave in when she was asked to shag. There was a guarantee for me not to content her tonight. It was alright for me as I'd promised Mum that I'd never sleep with her assistant.

There was one moment when we took a sip of our drinks, a guy with a woman tattoo on his biscep approached us to ask for her number. I didn't stop him, although I was quite jealous; that didn't help me much to get closer to Annabelle. And she didn't hesitate to give hers too. The jealousy was intensified to the point that I had to face away from them, glancing at where I could cool down and ignore them. I didn't know what came over me. It wasn't like I fancied Annabelle. We took weeks to finally made peace with our plus-minus ego and puppy eyes.

'Don't say that you are jealous of that guy, Aaron.' She poked my elbow soon as the tattooed guy had left. I scoffed a bit and said I didn't care and she was free to do anything with her whatsoever.

'I didn't give him my number. It was my brother's, Jasper. Wait for three minutes and he will definitely call me.' She took another sip.

'That was evil!' My heart went gaga. I loved ladies with dark humour.

'Welcome to my dark side, darling.' She preened in front of her small mirror that she kept in her handbag while I was left carving a big O on my face. How could someone not have a massive crush on her? If I were to like her - hm, from Catherine to Annabelle. That was one hell of a range!

'Join me doing shots, Aaron. Your mother's not here to watch you.' Annabelle took a bottle of tequila and slid it straight to my hand.

'Why do people always relate me to my mum?'

'You are momma's boy. Everybody knows that.'

And then, I said that I was recovering, but her pleas were way harder to ignore them. She brought her hands to my cheeks and squeezed them like a mother who admired her child so much she hardly wanted to let him go to school after breakfast.

'Okay, but with one condition. We're not going to compete.'

'Deal!'

Well, making a deal with Annabelle was the most regretful yet the best decision I had ever made. After five shots, our vision distorted into a blurred picture and our words evicted into an absurd slur. We should have stopped except we didn't. A conversation led to a competition. We drank too much that we forgot where were our keys and phones.

'I knew it! Americans couldn't handle it!' I took her glass and brought it to my mouth. Before I could drain it, Annabelle held my hand, stopping me, forcing me to eye-to-eye with her. I could see it in her eyes; a strong lust burning for someone. Was it for me? Was she feeling the same way I did?

We stood frozen for it was impossible to comprehend whether it was in minutes or seconds. Alcohol burning in our bloodstream, we seemed to fade out into music and drunken state. And we surrendered to what the liquor had stored for us. I leaned in and put my lips upon hers, and let them shut, for they were designed to fit together. It was electrifying. It was as if I woke up from a coma, breathing new, fresher air. She pulled me closer, deepening the kiss passionately. And I was craving for more. One kiss led to another...

The last thing I remembered, I laid in my bed, next to her, without a string covering our bodies.