No Such Thing

Chapter 2

Playlist:
Heart of Glass - Blondie
Nocturnal - Disclosure ft. The Weeknd

"Can you believe Ryder Wells was front row. I hope he was looking at me" I think I might gag. "He's so hot I'm surprised I could even walk straight with those eyes on me." Yeah, I'm gonna baby barf any second now. "Listen you bunch of broke breadsticks, the only one getting hot and heavy with Ryder is me. So why don't you take your wannabe asses to the toilet and drown yourselves. Fucking pathetic." Sweet, sweet Georgia. What a peach she is. "What the fuck are you smirking at? Haven't you had enough of a laugh tonight?" It's such a pleasant feeling knowing she's all riled up like this because of me. "Just wasn't aware that anyone staked a claim on Ryder Wells is all. You seem pretty jealous." Explosive female in 3...2... "Jealous? If anyone's jealous it's you. You think having your one night in the spotlight is gonna make you anywhere near my level? Girls like me get everything, including the privilege to put my hands all over guys like Ryder Wells. So why don't you just shut up and enjoy your moment of recognition cause it's the last you're gonna get." Everyone's peeking around the corner watching to see how I'll react this time. I know Georgia's just trying to get me to snap as usual, but I never succumb to her childish games. "Goodnight Georgia. Enjoy your shallow rich boy dick tonight." As her face turns redder than a tomato I shift on my heels and go prancing towards the exit.

The designer, crew, and several front row guests had already showered my with praise and a few roses. It's all very sweet, but all for the sake of good looks. That's not what it's about for me, so I smile and thank them all and nothing more. As I hail a cab to head to my cozy apartment for some Chinese take-out and a night of catching up on the latest season of American Horror Story, a pretty girl is galloping over. "Hey Stell! Do you wanna come out with all us girls we're heading to 1Oak for drinks and you never join us." She's one of the models from IMG that I usually avoid especially for calling me Stell which I've noted time and time again that I can't stand. She gives me her best puppy dog pout and her big brown eyes could probably melt the polar ice caps. Great. "Sure, why not." She giddily drags me away to her gaggle of giggly girls and they all crowd around me like I'm a new pet. This is gonna be a long night.

1Oak is best known for its celebrity appearances and I've never understood what appeal it has to them. But, the drinks are pretty damn good, so I'll give them that. The girls, as expected, are a bunch of lightweights and two shots of tequila in are already making a mockery of themselves in the lounge. Pretty sure the ones grinding all over the group of hot Spaniard guys don't even know the first syllable of their names, but they seem to be having fun. Something I'm not having. Clubs aren't really my scene. Don't get me wrong, I love the music and I love a good drink, but it seems very cliché to me. I wonder how many couples from my generation are going to grow old and have to tell their grandkids they met at a club instead of some great romantic tale of passion and love. Jesus Christ.

"STELLLLLLL - COME DANCE WITH US YOU LOOK SO SO SAD." "No, it's fine I have two left feet anyway!" I took ballet for three years, I most certainly do not have two left feet. But what other excuse could I muster up? She quickly became distracted by a couple of gasps from the rest of her friends. "Oh my god that's Ryder Wells. He's SO hot. Oh my god." "What if he comes over oh my gosh.. I look trashed!" "Is my lipstick okay?" I glanced back to see the man, the myth, the walking money bag himself: Ryder Wells. Only twenty-two and one of the richest guys in the city. Must be nice having billionaire CEO's for parents. He's an impeccable dresser and his looks could bring world peace. But it doesn't go past that. He's as shallow as a kiddie pool, just like the rest of his ratpack. My cosmopolitan has more depth than him. I should order another.

I can hear every girl in the place squealing and squirming behind me as the bartender kindly slides me another cosmo. "Not your type?" I guess she caught me rolling my eyes. "I don't have a type." "Ah, you're one of those. Yeah you're better off alone than with a prick like that I'm sure." "Ha, not that a prick like that would even realize I exist." She laughed and moved on to her new customers.