I darted between hoards of drunken frat boys and wasted sorority girls, narrowly missing the frothy sloshes of cheap bear spilling from the rims iconic red solo cups. The in house DJ was playing some ridiculous remix of some popular song, with amped up bass and random sirens blasting from every off beat. I could distantly hear the sound of crushed cups and paper plates crunching beneath my worn combat boots. Three minutes in and I already decided that I detested this party. Then again, I was never really a party person, preferring to stay home with my cat, listening to the beats of some obscure artist while working on something artsy. I was not going to deny it, I was a glorified hipster. Of course, this really was not a ginormous revelation for me. My best friend since our early and awkward high school years, had always poked fun at me for being 'too cool for school' and so 'underground.' I suppose it was just the balanced nature of our weird relationship. I was grounded, creative, smart, while she was a loose cannon, dancing from party to party, boy to boy. It was no wonder that even though she called me for a ride, she was no where to be found.
A sigh escaped from my parted lips as I continued my adventure of the humid house full of alcohol and sexual tension. This was not a very fun time for me. My sea green eyes scanned the first floor of the house as I perched on the first few steps of the stairs. Without any sign of her on the first floor, I continued my way upstairs. As my boot touched the penultimate step, I felt a familiar stare pierce my back. I through a glance behind me, delighted to see somebody who I remotely knew staring back at me. At first I barely recognized him, the short wavy black hair, the bright blue eyes, his athletic and muscular physique, but of course it was my friend's cousin. It only made sense that he would know where she was, even though they were only related by marriage, and hardly spoke at all. I gracefully made my way down the stairs, weaving through couples getting grabby and stumbling drunks, when I reached him in what I thought was record time.
"Hey," he spoke, taking a sip of some spiked concoction from his cup.
"Hi friend," I replied, cheerful that this whole ordeal would be over soon, "Have you seen your cousin anywhere?"
He looked pensive momentarily, when recognition lit up his features, "Oh yeah. I'm pretty sure she's upstairs playing strip poker with some guys on the second floor."
"Shit," I mumbled. Of course that hussy would be playing strip poker. Next thing you know, she'd be letting guys do shots of tequila off her body. "Let's go get her."
My hand instinctively wrapped around the sleeve of his athletic jacket, making sure we were not separated in the masses. I knew that she would not want to go willingly, so I might have needed to resort to brute force. He and I trekked up the stairs before I let him guide me to the room where strip poker was being held. We creeped into the large, albeit cosy feeling room, only to find that she wasn't anywhere to be found. I looked around the room again. There were only five moderately okay looking guys in various states of undress, and two girls passed out in the corner, both baring it all to the world.
"Have any of you seen my friend? She's about five foot five, athletic, straight brown hair, brown eyes, freckles on every inch of her body?" I questioned, wondering where she had gone off to.
"Yeah, she was here about ten minutes ago, and then left to go to the bathroom. Probably fell in," one guy responded, struggling to get his pants back on in his drunken stupor.
"Well that's just fan-fucking-tastic," I mumbled.
"Hey, why don't we play a round or two?" he suggested, jokingly pulling me to the ground and into the poker circle.
"Uh... I don't think that's such a good idea," I replied, not feeling entirely confident in my looks. I never really felt quite comfortable in my body. I mean, I'm sure I was pretty in an exotic... Or different way. I had long curly red hair that just met my lower back, bright sea green eyes framed with dark, long eyelashes, a pretty heart shaped face, and pale baby pink skin. The most attractive part of me, I think, were probably my breasts. They were just around a D cup, but lacked the sagging that most girls with large breasts had. But even with my breasts, I felt awkward with such a small, five foot two frame. I had my fair share of boyfriends, but nothing that was quite serious. And nothing in comparison to my best friend's escapades. She had another boyfriend each week, and I could see why. She was obviously gorgeous, tall with freckled but tan skin, an athletic build, shiny brown hair and eyes the color of chocolate. Even though her breasts were small, petite B cups, no boys seemed to mind.
My thoughts were interrupted by the smell of booze in my face, and his expecting expression. "Come on, why don't you just have a drink to loosen up and play, or are you too scared?"
Maybe it was time for me to try and 'let loose,' or some other cliched expression of teenage rebellion.
I took the cup from his hand and drank it like a champ, trying to hold down the bitter substance while presenting myself with a smile. "Well boys, let's play."