Walking into this party feels like an immediate mistake, but I wasn't really given much of a choice.
"See? New people, new experiences -- change can be fun." Amber always trying to make me see the positive in a situation.
"Of course it's new people, they're all twice our age!" I say with a light laugh and a roll of my eyes. "I didn't realize change meant partying with the geriatric crowd."
Our friend Taylor asked (more like begged) us to come to her house for this party. Taylor's brother and cousin had invaded her house while her parents were on vacation.
"Twice our age might be a bit of an exaggeration." Amber makes her way to the kitchen as she continues, "After all, her brother is only, what, twenty-eight?"
I'm doing the math in my head before answering, "Uh, no, more like thirty-one."
"Oh, three whole years difference, my bad." Amber laughs as she begins making drinks.
I cross my arms as I retort, "Uh, in this case, that means past thirty, which practically is twice our age. Therefore, once again, I am right." I pop a chip into my mouth before continuing, "I'm surprised that this party isn't being held at a bingo parlor." Amber studies the contents of the various alcohol bottles on the table before choosing an almost full bottle of Jack Daniels. "Who else did Taylor invite that's our age?"
Amber shrugs her shoulders with her rebuff of, "I don't know. Ask her."
"Ask me what?" I practically jump when Taylor pops up right next to me. I admire her outfit for a moment: an elephant print, tight-fitted crop top and high-waist short white shorts. Her boobs are a C cup going on D already, and I'm still in an unhappy B cup. Her long brown hair falls in perfect beach waves with a single feather clipped in on the side.
"Are we the only eighteen-year-olds here?" I practically whisper my question, as if we could get thrown out or something if someone overheard.
"Um, I'm nineteen, thank you very much!" She pouts her full, pink lips after this exclamation. I forget Amber turned nineteen just last week. I just stick my tongue out at her and grab a drink.
"Jen, I need you to just chill out and have fun." They each grab a drink as well and we make our way to the living room. Taylor continues giving me her "chill out" speech as we squeeze together on the red loveseat. "Age is just a number. My brother and cousin may be in their thirties, but they still act like teenagers ninety percent of the time."
We all laugh, and I take a sip of my drink, "Jesus Amber! That's fucking strong." We all laugh and just take another sip. The only way to get over the strength is to keep drinking. "So, what is this party for?" I glance around at everyone and try to see if anything about their demeanor gives me a glance into their personality.
"Well, it's not really for anything, except for fun maybe." Taylor stops to drink some of her cocktail. "Although, today is also my cousin's birthday, but he hates his birthday, so we don't mention it to him or anyone else."
"Weird, how can someone not love their birthday?" Amber takes another sip while Taylor and I exchange glances.
"Well," I'm trying really hard not to laugh or smile too big, "We all know you enjoyed your birthday." I can't help it, and neither can Taylor. We both laugh lightly before continuing, "Or at least, it sounded like you did." As I go to take another sip, Amber hits my arm causing brown liquid to spill down my white top. "Amber!"
I quickly grab some napkins and start dabbing at the brown liquid on my chest, trying to keep it from setting. When I look up, my eyes meet with someone else's across the room. Was he just watching me rub my chest? He quickly looks away and my vision is blocked before I can say anything to Taylor or Amber about it.
"I'm going to go steal one of Tay's shirts since someone ruined this one." I quickly chug the remains of my drink and hand the empty cup to Amber. "I expect to come back to a full cup." I give a pointed look to Amber before winking at a smirking Taylor.
I make my way upstairs, which is mostly empty. I quickly walk into Taylor's room at the end of the hall. As I close the door, I rest my head against the door for a minute. Maybe chugging the rest of that drink wasn't the best idea as I can already feel the alcohol affecting me. Okay, I really need to get out of this shirt, and maybe I can get it in their wash before the stain sets for good. Unzipping these side zippers is always a pain. When I get the shirt half-way over my head, the zipper gets caught in my hair. Shit. I pull harder, but I think I'm just making it worse.
I hear the door open and then, "Oh god, I'm so sorry. I should've knocked." It's a man's voice. Great. But I need help, and he's already seen, so what the hell.
