She hated him. He hated her. And that was alright in their world until one night. Everything changed then, conversations exchanged between drags of a shared cigarette having developed a mutual respect between enemies.
-----
Slowburn enemies to frie...
Jonathan chuckles at my child-like excitement. He opens his mouth to say something but is interrupted when a chubby guy in a Greek costume projectile vomits right next to Jonathan's side of the car. Actually, some of the bile might have splattered onto the car. "Oh, Jesus!" Jonathan exclaims.
"Alright, that's our queue to get out of the car," I giggle, practically leaping out of the car. I'm anxious to keep my mind preoccupied. I've set my goals, and I fully intend to fulfill them tonight.
.Now, I know it sounds bad, but hear me out," I tell him.
He rolls his eyes but listens to my ramblings nonetheless. "I want to experience life to the fullest in Hawkins. Now that I know this will be my permanent home, I can let loose and do things I otherwise wouldn't do. That includes the fun things such as getting hammered on Halloween and sleeping with a random hot guy,"
"This is going to be a nightmare," Jonathan mumbles, stepping out of the driver's side carefully to avoid the vomit puddle.
I fake a pout and cross my arms over my exposed chest. "Well, aren't you just a ray of sunshine?" I tease. "Someone needs to get laid, too," I joke.
His eyes go wide. "I don't--what do you--shut up."
I laugh at his red face. "Awe, are you nervous?"
"I know maybe three people here," Jonathan complains as we walk inside the house. Crowded, sweaty bodies fill the building to capacity.
"You don't have to know them," I say. "I mean, all well and good if you do, if that's what you want. But it can be awkward if you guys have to see each other afterward," I explain as we enter the kitchen. I lean over a massive punch bowl on the counter, giving it a whiff. I scrunch up my nose and get the attention of a guy nearby drinking it.
"Hey, what's in this?" I shout over the music.
"Pure fuel..." he grins. "pure. Fucking. FUEL!" he shouts, fist-pumping the air and disappearing into the crowd. I shrug, filling a red solo cup with the mystery liquid.
"You're really going to drink that?" Jonathan grimaces. I chug the drink, nodding. "You're horrible, truly," he jokes.
I play slap him on his shoulder with the back of my hand. "Lighten up. Take a shot or two,"
