Antisocial at Its Finest

The Party

Chapter Six

Harley's P.O.V.

Apparently, I'm now at a party I was invited to. There's a red, plastic cup of beer in my hand, but I don't remember who gave it to me. But it's in my hand.

I stand alone in a crowded house. Music is blaring through the large, three-story house. I believe the song is called "Timber" by people named Ke$ha and PitBull. It's not my kind of music. I prefer bands like movie soundtracks or the songs by 5 Seconds of Summer.

People are dancing and bumping into me, their minor apologies slurred by their intoxicated dialect. All I can do is try to hold my drink, which I'm not drinking because I don't do alcohol, still so that it doesn't spill.

Grey, my friend who I invited, is not anywhere to be seen. And neither is Marvel. Or Devon. I'm all alone in a crowded room, making this one of the most awkward situations I've been in.

Someone comes crashing down on me, and knocks over my drink, causing it to fall on me. This means a drink is spilling all over me. It's cold, and I jump back.

I pick up the cup real quick, but I don't clean up the mess. If I do, I'll be trampled by idiotic, drunk teenagers.

I let out an frustrated sigh and throw my cup away before making my way upstairs, so I can at least wipe off some of the beer.

I climb the stairs, maneuvering myself around the couples making out and the do-gooders trying to stay away from the booze altogether. I give a slight nod of approval to those who chose not to drink, like I tried to do.

I'm on the second floor. There are three stories to this house, so I'm pretty sure there's a bathroom in here somewhere I check all the doors as I walk, trying to find the bathroom.

Bathroom? Nope, closet.

Bathroom? Nope, bedroom.

Bathroom? Nope, another bedroom.

I scoff at the last room I check. Kelly Quinn, apparent queen of the school, is making out with some poor, unfortunate soul. I take a closer look when I recognize his hair, which has her stupid fingers twisting and gripping it.

Marvel.

They're in quite the awkward postion, if someone was to walk in. He's sitting on the edge of the bed while Kelly is sitting in his lap, legs wrapped around his waist. He seems a bit intoxicated while she seems sober and rambunctious. "Oh my god. You're, like, so good at kissing," she says.

"Really?" he asks like he awaits her approval. She smirks. "Totally." He smiles a drunken grin. "I---"

"But I think you'd be even better at..." She leans in to seductively whisper the rest of the sentence in his ear.

When she pulls back, his smiles gets even wider, and his eyes light up in excitement and anticipation.

I think I know what she suggested.

My jaw drops, but I stay silent. I think he sees me, but he's too busy sucking face with Kelly to notice. I slowly back away, trying my hardest not to make any sound. I close the door, leaning my head against the wood.

"No," I whisper to the door, hoping no one could hear. "Please, no."

I scold myself in silence. You should've known better. He was never yours. You shouldn't have trusted him. You shouldn't trust anyone. You. Have. No. One. The words repeat themselves in my head until they were permanent. You have no one.

I'll admit, a tear or two are falling. No, wait. Rivers are streaming down my face. I had trusted him! I thought he liked me! I'm so disappionted with myself.