Alamort

13. Priya

Happy Ending – Bailey Spinn

B linking at my reflection, I flick my gaze to River behind me. She looks pleased with the outfit she chose for me from her closet.

The little bit of things I brought are… normal clothes. Jeans, sweats, hoodies and t-shirts. I’ve worn expensive clothing, handpicked by my mom’s designers, so the rare times I’m out in public I look ‘presentable’. This? This would not pass her inspection.

“River…” I’m ready to let her know I can’t go out like this, that this is unacceptable. The dress is a black long sleeve mini dress. The material is sheer but thicker where it comes to a sharp V that reaches the top of my belly button. My thighs look chunky because they’re touching. My boobs are noticeably too small. And is that a pouch I see on my belly? I frown again at my reflection, then look at her while my insecurities thicken in my throat. My eyes sting with the countless flaws staring back at me. If I can see them, everyone can see them.

“Stop it right now. You look amazing! I don’t know what you could possibly say to make me think otherwise.” She spins me around until I face her, her hands steady on my shoulders. “We’ve known each other for two days. Does it seem like I’d do something like that?” Hurt flashes in her eyes as her lips twist. Arms crossed over her chest, “Say three nice things about yourself.”

Taken aback, I don’t think I’ve ever said one nice thing about myself. I study her. Her makeup is dark, with a thick winged eyeliner. She pairs her combat boots with a short leather skirt and a top that has silver studs forming X’s over her breasts. Looking like an unapproachable bad ass dominatrix. She’s just missing the mask and whip.

Looking around, unable to maintain eye contact. I start with what I know is true, “My eye makeup you did looks amazing, almost natural. Perfectly me. My hair looks like it’s a silky wave in the ocean.” My usual curly hair is tamed perfectly in big waves down my back, extra thanks to many hair products to help it hold. It conceals my bite mark from the other night. I look… good. The bags underneath my eyes are fully covered and my contour is on point. I think hard about something else nice to say about myself and come up short.

“And I’m lucky to have met you.” I look in her cocoa-colored eyes once again, not able to convey my feelings into words, instead bottling it up. She rolls her eyes with a big smile.

“Fine, those were indirectly about you and the last one, not at all. But I’ll take it. Next time will be better.” She touches up her dark purple lipstick before handing me a light lip gloss, which I’m thankful for. Makeup isn’t my thing.

Speaking of brown eyes… “Hey… on my way here, I saw a sign for a girl that went missing. Did she go here?”

She pauses in the mirror, straightening up to her full height, fidgeting with her outfit, her discomfort noticeable.

“Mm yeah, Megan.” She leaves it at that, making herself busy in the mirror.

“What happened?” I inquire.

“She was here and then she wasn’t.”

All right, that wasn’t vague at all. Why wouldn’t the media or student be talking about a girl who went missing? Someone who went to this school, has a well-known family, or at least a wealthy one. The fact she doesn’t want to talk about it makes it more important. I decide to push for more on a later date.

“Now let’s go party and get fucked up!” Her enthusiasm is infectious, and the excitement flutters in my stomach. I may not like partying, but I like people watching. It makes spotting the sadness in their smiles easier. Maybe the fairness in their laugh. There’s always something leaking through the cracks when someone thinks no one is watching.

Walking up to the metal barndominium, from what River explained, is a barn that’s been fully renovated and furnished like a house. It was done her freshman year for the Demons to live comfortably for the next couple of years.

The barn has a white paint job, and the two massive barn doors are rolled open, exposing three large glass doors for entry, allowing partygoers to come and go. The party is in full swing, different colored lights illuminating different areas of the main rooms, and music filling the air even before we approach the doors. Money Longer by Lil Uzi Vert is blasting through the speakers. Entering through the doors, a majority of people scream the chorus.

I suppress a laugh because I’m sure almost everyone here has a mansion from their parents’ money and nice ass cars that were bought for them. At least I’m not so far out of place. If anything, I’m overly dressed. Most girls are wearing little to no clothing at all. This must be a school thing they do because there’s no way our parents would allow us to be seen like this anywhere. River is shaking her hips as she grabs and pulls me into the kitchen which, is easily seen in the open floor plan. An enormous island sits in the middle, littered with all sorts of bottles of alcohol. Fairy lights hang all over the metal beams that hold up the barn. I’ve been to countless mansions, but the idea that this used to be a barn has my mind going in circles.

“Drink?” a freshman girl wearing a neon yellow tube top and mini skirt asks. Is this what all freshmen are going to have to do? Taking another look around, I notice the bright color easily picked out in the sea of people all catering to needs. All the freshmen guys are in skintight speedos.

Grimacing, I avert my eyes to the girl in front of us. Everyone would know what they’re packing, or not. Since it leaves nothing to the imagination. The cold outside wouldn’t help their predicament. I stick with bottled water. While River is asking for a mixed drink along with a shot. Go big or go home, right? Because I’m ready to go home.

“Are you going to dance with me?” She screams over the music that switched to The Weeknd, a song about how he can’t feel his face. Which seems pretty on par with the people doing lines of coke in the corner. The horror on my face must be evident because she laughs, twirling around a freshman girl and grinding against her to the beat of the music. I keep my post by the edge of the island to take in the scene. I count all the exits in case of an emergency. An automatic compulsion, courtesy of my lovely father. Aside from the way we came in, there’s an exact replica toward the other end of the house where all the “fun” is. Drugs, topless girls and make out sessions are in full swing. My nose scrunches as I shudder with the thought of who’s going to be cleaning the aftermath of this house party.

The cliques are seemingly spread out, not too much of one group sticking together. I’ve only been to the parties that require my parents to put on a good show. Champagne, hor d’oeuvre’s, making connections to get in people’s good graces, but nothing more. Never any dancing or good music, maybe drugs behind the scenes, but not out in the open like this. Oh, and everyone is wearing clothes.

One girl is in the corner by herself, swaying off beat to the music touching herself sensually, inhibitions lost in her own world. Whatever she’s on… I wouldn’t be opposed to trying.

I look back over to check on River to see she’s switched up dancing partners to two girls that are wearing bralettes with some shorts that show their ovaries. She’s smiling and singing to the song while waving her hands in the air. So unbothered that it brings a small smile to my face.

Continuing to scan the crowd, I stop when I spot one of the twins. The one who never smiles and fakes his emotions, plastering on false indifference. Probably because he feels everything tenfold, instead acting like nothing matters.

He’s intently staring at me. Arms and legs spread to take up as much room as possible. A warning. “Don’t come near me”. That clearly tailored button-up shirt kisses the outline of his muscles perfectly, showing off how built he is underneath. The button up seems a little out of place here compared to the amount of skin showing everywhere else, but who am I to say anything? It’s his house.

Accidentally, I make eye contact and pull back. That indifference I was talking about before is replaced with a twisted sneer. Making a poor attempt to hide the fact he gave a reaction, his jaw rigid from clenching that he could break his teeth if he did it any harder. The hostility startles me, wiping the smile off of my face from watching River dance. I redirect my attention next to him to distract myself from the heaviness in my stomach. Instead, I stop short at his womanizing brother.

Not concerned to conceal the disgust written on my face to see he has a girl in his lap that isn’t Amber. His arms lay across the back of the black leather couch, holding a blunt. The girl throws her head back giggling at something he said while running a hand up his thigh, up to his fully unbuttoned shirt. This will not end well when his girlfriend gets here. That thought brings a smile back to my face. Karma at her finest. What comes around, goes around.

Where’s that third little demon? Analyzing River to guesstimate how intoxicated she is, only to see she’s still dancing her little heart away. Am I the only one who gets nervous and feels like I have to be responsible for the people I’m with? In charge of monitoring their well-being and making sure they’re okay. Is it normal?

A hand reaches out and touches my arm, causing me to jump. I wrap my arm around myself before spinning around to see who is in my personal bubble.

One of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen. His blonde wavy hair falls into his eyes. My fingers twitch to brush it away to see the matching sapphire blue eyes so light it almost looks white. The freckles on his tan skin, show he’s been in the sun a lot this summer. Probably from whatever adventures his family paid for. Let’s hope he doesn’t think I want to hear about them. Two wicked dimples that deepen as he smiles and talks. Along with two silver hoop piercings that hug his full lips, don’t get me started on the neck tattoo that goes against his surfer aura.

“Huh?” His lips stop moving. I realize he’s talking to me. My face heats. I halt my wandering thoughts and obvious eye fucking. He laughs like I said something funny. It’s forced, faked. Who knows, maybe he thinks the reaction he draws from girls is amusing or possibly annoyingly repetitive.

“I asked how you like the party and if you’re enjoying yourself so far.” His voice is rich, smooth. Good enough to listen to in an audiobook and orgasm from it alone. He’s wearing a white shirt with dark jeans that hugs him in the right places. Who says girls can’t appreciate a male figure? I’m pretty sure I’m drooling.

“Uh… yeah, it’s…” I dab at my mouth, looking for a word to not make me seem brazen. “It’s definitely different.” Translate to, ‘I’d rather be anywhere else’. I’d rather read a book, take a walk, focus on homework… drown in my sorrows, sleep my pain away, contemplate my death. Not surrounded by people who only give a fuck about themselves.

He raises his eyebrow, obviously reading into what I mean. Perceptive as well. It’s good to know he’s not just a pretty face.

“I’m Priya.”

“I know.” He smirks. I suppose everyone knows of the new senior that transferred this year. “Do you want to dance?”

I refrain from making the same face I gave River when she asked a few songs ago. I frown and shake my head.

“I don’t like dancing.”

He’s wearing more clothing than his partygoers, the same as the twins. What a way to go down. Too bad this is the third Demon. A Demon with the looks and body of an Angel.

“What did you say your name was again?”

“I didn’t. I’m Saint D’Angelo.” The way he says who he is, isn’t as cocky as Bennett seemed to be earlier. It seems almost normal.

“I’m good, thank you. I’ll probably get going soon.” Attempting to excuse myself in a polite way. At least I hope it comes off as polite.

“So, not a good different then?” He asks, referring to my earlier statement about the party.

He was reading into my answers. He is more than a pretty face. Something about this situation doesn’t sit well with me. Why is he talking to me? Why didn’t he just stop the conversation there? There’s always an ulterior motive with people and not knowing his makes me feel off centered. Cue the word vomit from nervousness.

“Honestly, we’ll probably never talk again, so…” The likelihood of associating with the ‘popular’ group is slim to none. “No. Not a good different. I’ve only ever been forced to go to parties by my parents and it’s never a good time.” It’s always ended up with my father’s fists from some fuck up I did that night in his or my mother’s eyes. “This is no better, just less clothing, more drugs and loud music. And I don’t like people. 9 times out of 10, I don’t get along with anyone, anyway.” I say it aloofly, like the loneliness doesn’t affect me, when it’s quite the opposite. “The expectations are never ending and extend here as well. The end.”

His eyes light up with amusement while his lips tilt in a half smirk. “The end?”

“Yeah, I’m done with my story.” Trying to brush off the fact I’m not good with people and most people don’t tell people when they’re done talking.

He looks about 5 seconds from laughing. Then unexpectedly I land face first into Saints chest as a fight breaks out behind us. His arms come around to catch me around the waist while shoving the guy away from me and into the guy who pushed him. He swiftly regains his balance while cocking his fist back to punch him. Blood gushes from his nose, pouring onto the ground. More people jump in, some trying to break it up, while others just want a piece of the chaos. The original guys are swallowed into the crowd of people fighting for absolutely no reason. This is what I imagine a mosh pit looks like. I’ve never seen one, but from what I heard, they’re crazy dangerous.

Saint grabs my hand while I’m distracted and pulls me to the glass doors toward the back, away from the fight ensuing.

“Sorry, duty calls as host and all. I’ll catch up with you in a few?” I nod once to brush off the commitment, because I fully plan on leaving before he finds me again. With a flash of his dimples, he disappears into the crowd. I lean against the cool glass when a flash of neon yellow catches the corner of my eye in the Demons’ corner. The freshman that was dancing with River when we first got here is now in Bennett’s lap, kissing her way up his neck. His hand traces the swell of her ass, up her spine when yet another voice comes to interrupt me.

“Hey New Girl, I came to see if you were all right. I saw you were in the middle of …all that. I couldn’t get to you fast enough. But I figure I’d see for myself. I’m Oscar, by the way.” His curly dark hair, perfect white smile. He’s completely shirtless, showing off his abs followed by the arrogance radiating off of him.

Scoffing, “Of course you are.” I mutter. It’s always like this, “new girl this” or “new girl that”. Who can get in her pants first? He must have seen my lips moving because he responds with a “Huh?” I toss him a fake smile, “I said, ‘It’s nice to meet you, I’m Priya .’” I lie, trying the emphasize my name so we can just skip the ‘new girl’ phase.

“Wanna step outside? It’s quieter out there.” He tosses me what I’m assuming is usually a panty dropping smile, tugging me along with him. He reeks of alcohol and weed, and that never is a good combination for a partying teen. I shoot a brief look over my shoulder so I can throw an SOS out to River, but I don’t spot her quick enough before the chilly September air meets me. I stand awkwardly on a porch that covers the whole back end of the barn. My body posture should read “uncomfortable” but he’s either dense or drunk. He closes the distance while stumbling to playing with the ends of my hair much like Bennett did earlier. Only, it doesn’t even come close to the same effect as Bennett’s touch. I shy away from the unwanted contact as his hand settles right above my ass and pulls me flush to his front. He’s ignoring every obvious cue I’m giving. Uncomfortable laughter, subtly backing up towards the party. Does anyone know how to read body language? Or did that die along with chivalry, too?

Grinding my teeth against the feeling of hands on my body, I realize he’s the guy who’s going to need more than a “No.”

I’m on my own here, there’s a couple people outside but not close enough to overhear me. The beginning of one of my favorite songs, “Swim” by Chase Atlantic. Whoever is in charge of this playlist is hitting all the right feels. This is perfect. I smile mainly to myself. I never said I couldn’t dance, just that I don’t like to.

Taking both of my hands, I gradually trace the length of each of his arms, leaving us skin to skin. He shudders from the welcome contact. Trailing my fingers lightly up his shoulder, and softly intertwine my fingers in the hair at the base of his skull. I sensually sway my hips slowly to the beat of the song. When his hands wrap around me, grabbing a hand full of my ass, I yank his head back with the fist-full of hair I now have. While pushing my breasts up against his chest, getting close to his ear to whisper.

“The last man who touched me without my permission… I set him on fire.” Instantly, his arms drop from around me with a huge step back, eyes wide at the confession. The satisfaction of not being touched, accompanied by how horrified he looks, sends delicious chills down my spine. Before he can respond, the music fades as the grating voice of Amber Astor reaches my ears. I’m ready to go back to my dorm for the night. With that in mind, I head inside to tell River she can stay if she wants, but I’m over it. My people watching hasn’t gone the way I wanted it to and I blame it on being new here, drawing curiosity and wanting to test my boundaries.

“Can all the fresh-meat make their way up to the front, please?” It comes out more like a demand than a question. About 30 students in neon colors stand in two single file lines facing the crowd.

“Perfect!” Fake cheeriness in her voice as she ushers other partygoers up with her. She hands one black permanent marker to each of the girls beside her that aren’t wearing neon colors, then one to Ember and tells them to get started. Coincidently, Amber stands in front of the girl that was all over Bennett, whispering something in her ear and the girl’s eyes well with tears.

The music is low, allowing only the bass of the song to be heard, while everyone forms a circle around the entertainment for the evening. Amber leads the way by removing the marker cap with her teeth before putting it on the end of the marker. The purpose of the girls’ tiny outfits is quickly revealed as the body shaming begins. Arrows on her belly, thighs, legs front and back. There isn’t a spot without markings leaving the freshmen looking ready for plastic surgery.

People around are laughing and cheering them on. Amber finishes up her disgusting display of pissing on Bennett’s leg. Permanent marker everywhere, the girl is more marked than any of the other freshman. “Whore” is written across her forehead. I feel sorry for her. That’s quickly forgotten when Amber turns around.

“We’re just missing… one person.” She stares at me, along with many other eyes. The discomfort sets in.

“You’re new… aren’t you?” A rhetorical question. People press in behind me, urging me forward.

“Oscar? Can you bring her up here?”

The air changes when he slowly creeps up behind me.

“Remember what I said outside? It applies here too. Don’t put a fucking finger on me.” I snarl. If he doesn’t heed my warning, I have enough lighter fluid to light his ass up like a Christmas tree. Oscar throws his hands in the air to show he isn’t touching me. My legs wobble like jello on my way up to the center of the room.

“Tonight, we’re going to end off with a little self-reflection. Marker, please?” Then Amber leans closer to me as she did to the first girl.

“Next time, stay away from Bennett. He’s mine.”

Another Barbie hands her a red permanent marker. She uncaps while looking over my body, pondering the same thing we all do when we look in the mirror. Or maybe that’s just me. She draws arrows inward on my lower thighs.

“There’s no thigh gap… your thighs should be smaller for your height.” I let out a harsh laugh. I’ve been told for years by my mother.

I grab the marker from her hand, tossing it somewhere behind me, followed by a yelp.

I mimic what she did, leaning in, “Let me make it easier for you. My boobs are too small, my ass is too fat, my thighs are too thick, I have bags under my eyes. I don’t have an entirely flat stomach.” I could go on and on. We’re going to pick out my insecurities about my appearance? I’m a million times better at doing that than any fake ass girl who only wants attention.

“I don’t want your pathetic man whore of a boyfriend who can’t seem to keep his hands to himself. Do better.” I whisper, giving her some girl -to-girl advice. I shove by her shoulder while I take my leave. Every single eye in the room is on me. I’m trying to hold it together because I’m about to snap.

This time, I don’t bother waiting for River to let her know I’m leaving. Amber resumes her reign of terror on the poor freshmen who sit there and take it. The chilly air hits my sweaty skin again as I exit the barn.

“Priya! Wait!” I turn at the sound of River’s voice and hit her with a scathing glare. She skids to a halt, hands up, yielding.

“Did you know?” I try to keep words from wavering and my face blank.

“What? What are you talking about?” This is the issue with people. They can hide behind hundreds of masks. Some are better at hiding their true nature than others. I scan her face, looking for any sort of guilt, remorse or responsibility only to come up short.

“I’m going back to the dorm.” Ending on that, I turn away.

“Priya, I swear. Whatever is going on, I had nothing to do with it.” She’s eager to prove her innocence. I shrug. It doesn’t really matter, does it? It happened.

I feel empty. The urge to burn the barn to the fucking ground to make me feel better about being insecure, but don’t see it happening tonight. One day. Tomorrow should be better. She holds my phone out for me, looking at the phone and back to her, confused. She shrugs while scooting closer.

“Saint gave it to me when the freshmen hazing started. Said he was trying to find you. He found it on the ground.” My only guess is that I lost it during the fight when I was shoved.

Tomorrow will be better. That’s what I need to believe. Fake it until you become it.