Introverting, its hands down what I do best. I don't like to party, I don't have many friends. I like to sit at home with my internet and cats. But tonight is different, tonight I'm bored and feeling like taking a risk. So when someone asked me to join them for a party, I figured why the hell not, right? That was 45 minutes ago; I still haven't gotten out of my car. I'm sitting in the car, cold because I turned the engine off so as not to be noticed just sitting here. My confidence waning quickly. More and more people came flooding into this party, held at someone's home on a random Saturday night. The more bodies that went in the more that leaving seemed like a good idea.
Swallowing my pride I got out of the car, my sheer shirt that seemed like a good idea at the time, now providing next to no protection from the harsh winter wind. I don't normally dress up, but I figured if I was going to do this, I was going to do it right. Besides I was 21 and this was my first ever party. Skin tight black jeans hugged my curvy hips, resting just a tad lower than I would normally wear them. The white silk top hung loosely on me, but the plunging neckline that bared the lace at top of my fire engine red bra helped make up for the lack of cling that most girls sported with their clothing. A simple black hooded sweatshirt was hugged around me, acting as my security blanket while I shyly trudged through the snow being extra careful not to slip. I climbed the stairs to the porch and entered the building.
This was exactly what I expected a party to be like and yet nothing like it at the same time. The inside of the house was huge, deceptively so considering the outside looked rather quaint. People occupied every visible room. In one room the couches and furniture were moved to the side and guys were boxing for fun. In another room drunken girls and even more intoxicated guys rubbed their bodies all over each other in a pretty undignified manner. Through a long hall way I saw the kitchen where a bunch of guys were playing beer pong while girls lazily lounged against the counter with drunken stares of lust. I was pretty sure I was fashionably late and everybody here was way past socially drunk.
I immediately started to regret my decision of being here. I found a corner in the room with the dancing people and became the very epitome of a wall flower. I glanced at myself in the mirror across the room from me as wondered why I tried so hard. My generally untamable hair was left down and framed my face in a halo of dark curls. I had the pasty skin that told of a tan from the light of the moon. Dark make up accented my dark eyes, and clear lip gloss coated my lips. I had felt I looked pretty good when I left the house, now being around all the other girls I wasn't so sure. I nervously pushed my purple plastic framed glasses up onto my nose further and stood my ground hoping it wasn't impolite to leave quickly after arrival.
"Have you ever heard the song Dust in the Wind?" a voice spoke to my left.
I looked up from observing the puddle that had formed under my shoes from the melted snow.
"Me? Yeah I know it." I replied to who I figured had voiced the question.
It was a guy holding a worn acoustic guitar, stickers of various bands and labels were slapped all over it. He was about my height, maybe a little taller, maybe not, my shoes were giving me at least an extra inch. His hair was long and pulled back into a "man bun". His eyes were a beautiful blue, that wasn't quite pure blue, but rather a myriad of colors blended. He had a red goatee that was in stark contrast from his otherwise brunette hair. His lips were formed into a smirk and he had one eye brow raised in question at me. It was then I realized he had asked me something.
"I'm sorry what?"
"You look bored." He stated matter of factly.
"I am. I don't do parties."
"Yet here you are."
I shrugged.
"It's cool, do you want a drink?"
"I'm driving thanks though."
He chuckled at me,
"So you don't drink, you don't party...do you smoke?"
"No."
"So what do you do then?"
"I read?"
He laughed,
"Well okay then."
His laugh was pleasant. His voice deep that spoke of many years of smoking as it carried that rasp that only smokers have. I suddenly had the urge to know what it would be like to have him whisper things in my ear.
I shook the thought from my head.
"Do you want to join me outside?" He asked.
"Sure."
We walked out onto the porch, it had started snowing again and I quickly began to shiver.
"Would you like my jacket?" He asked me.
"No, but thanks, I don't want you to be cold."
He shrugged.
"You look cold."
