His Gray Half

3. Popular, Hoe, Nerd

CHAPTER THREE:
|Popular, Hoe, Nerd|
• • •

"Hey Aiddy, imma text ya the address. Meet us there in a few..."

He attempted a response, but she was too impatient to listen, and ended the call.

"Damn you Yve!"
He scowled at the text that dropped in a second after she hung up. The message had their rendezvous address, and meeting time in it.
"There's no turning back now..."
He loosened a sigh, and stuffed the phone in his hip pocket.

The address seemed close by, so switching outfits did not seem too smart. He had to attend to Yvette with what he had on, which weren't short of a leather jacket, white colour stained t-shirt, and a ripped denim jean. Coffee, and paint were the perfume that invaded the air under his arm when he sniffed it. His fingers still wore the shades of red and black colours, while tiny drops of white and gold, glinted off the backpack he had scrapped off the floor, just a few minutes after Yvette's text.

He tilted his head to the brick wall he stood before, and stared a few seconds at the half finished painting. He had managed the upper half of the skull with tiny rose petals floating over it, but the lower jaw was missing. The top had its complete set of gold lined smirking teeth, which among those was a fang soiled in mostly red and part gold.

A second of satisfactory smile smeared on his face and disappeared, as he grabbed tighter the straps of his backpack, and picked his way to the location Yve had sent.
His arts were his pride and message to the world, it held his inner demon and feelings soaked in the brush strokes and every dropping paint.

He mounted his bike, making his way to the address.

He came to stop at a gate, and wondered if the address he got was a mistake. While pondering on Yvette clumsiness at times, her message came in again.

It read.
"You'll see a button, coated in white to your right. Hit it, state your name into the white box that is above it, and the gate will be opened."

"Is this some prank?"
He threw his eyes at the direction the supposed button was, and found it, and the other, just as Yvette had stated.

Just then, she texted him again.
"In case you may be wondering if it's a prank, just know it isn't."

He growled and pounded the button, faked a name into the thingy above it, and stood back to watch the door open. It didn't.

"Wtf!"

He was midway to exhaustion, when his phone beeped in a text.
"Use your real name stupid!"

When he finally repeated the processes, and said his real name, the gate buzzed open, and he Stroud through.

"A freaking mansion!?" Adrian screamed in his head as he walked deeper into the yard.

The closer he got, the easier it was for the bass and jazz to bash into his ear.

"A party?" He face-palmed, and went to the door.

It was a party nonetheless.

There was one fun thing about parties hosted by seniors, and that was the all out R-rated kind, even on a school night. The three uniqueness of these sorts of parties: dim blinking lights, deafening rock music (this wasn't prom, no one cared for poor old waltz), and thick jabbing stenches, of weed, alcohol and the redundant vomits which suffocated the air, and not to mention the nauseating crowd which Adrian loathed more. But all these were what seemed thrilling to every other person waving their hands and nodding to the unbearable music.

He had never thought that Yvette and Devon's shit, was gonna be at a freaking party. And being a third wheel-ish on whatever was ongoing between Yve and RWHB captain, made him loathsomely cringe the more, but his absence would've cost him his hide, and a two hour pep talk from Yvette. He hated crowds, as much as his engraved displeasure for socializing, and this pact had him braced against a wall.