Summer of Like // Farleigh Start x OC

23: The Takeoffs are the Worst, But the Skin of your Lips Makes it all Worth It

If there's one thing you can say about the Cattons, it's that they know how to throw a party.

The extravagance is overwhelming - hundreds of people are scattered about the grounds and in the house, all dressed to the nines in midsummer night's fashion. Glitter seems to float in the air from how the strobe lights flash pinks and blues into the night, catching on every slightly reflective surface and amplifying tenfold. Though it's been hours since the sun disappeared behind the maze, the heat of the day still lingers, trapped between all the sweaty bodies. On the lake, lotus shaped lights drift with the breeze.

Music blasts through the grounds, and Venetia hasn't let go of my hand since the crowds first started rolling in. It feels like Cambridge again - the dancing, the drinking, the way that it's just us in a sea of people, laughing and smiling and shouting at each other over the music. It's a high on it's own - though there's copious amounts of coke if I wanted any.

A man bumps into Venetia and sends her stumbling into me, gripping onto my shoulders for dear life. Still dancing, she turns as the man leans down to apologize, picking up my arms and wrapping them around her middle. I rest my head on her shoulder as the man retreats, and our dance renews, swaying and grinding to the beat.

We simply dance for a while, until Venetia tips her head back to speak into my ear. "I need another drink!"

I press a wet kiss to her cheek before letting go. "I'll catch you later?"

"Always." She says, winking at me before sauntering off towards the house, her spiderweb dress like a string of prisms in the night.

I reach down to adjust my own dress - a strapless sheer thing peppered with strategically placed peaseblossoms to cover all my bits. Left alone, the craving for a cigarette hits me, and I wander off the dancefloor in search of something to smoke.

Even off the dancefloor, the crowds are thick. I wish Venetia had chosen something a little more substantial for me to wear - something, preferably, with a place for me to store a pack of cigs and a lighter - but I can't pretend that my dress isn't simultaneously the sexiest and prettiest thing I've ever worn. And, this quest for a cig will be a chance to meet some new people that I'll likely never see again - a favorite pastime of mine.

The squeeze past a gaggle of girls all dressed as fairies, following the scent of smoke. I spot the burn of a cherry in the throng, and cut through the crowd until I'm standing in front of a guy that I don't know on the edge of the crowd. In the distance, a fire flickers on the lawn, a pig slowly rotating over the flames.

His eyes sweep over me, and he grins around his cigarette. "Hi."

"Hi." I return, putting out a hand to shake. "I'm Evelyn."

He takes my hand, and shakes it twice. "James." He says. "What can I do for you Evelyn?"

"I was looking for someone willing to give a pretty girl a cigarette." I say, batting my eyelashes at him. "Are you my guy?"

He laughs. "I'd be willing, for a price."

"What kind of price?" I ask. There's no world in which I have sex with this man for a cigarette, but I'm curious to see where this goes.

"I'll give you a cigarette," He steps closer, narrowing the distance between us and pulling his cigarette out of his mouth. "If you give me a kiss."

I grin. "Sure."

Tilting my head slightly upwards, I plant a kiss on his waiting lips. It's too wet, and he slips his tongue in too early, and it makes me miss Farleigh. Farleigh knew how to kiss.

James pulls back, and digs a cigarette out of his pocket, handing it to me. I press the end to his to light it, and tuck it between my lips, sucking greedily.

"So." James says. "You wouldn't happen to know who's birthday it is, would you?"

"Oliver." I say. "Little guy, about my height, big blue eyes. I'm sure you'll see him around at some point."

"Oliver." James rolls the name over his tongue. "I don't know him."

"He's a friend of Felix's." I say. "From Oxford."

James hums, placing his cigarette back between his lips. "I used to go to school with Felix, when we were both in secondary school."

I nod along, my eyes drifting away from him and back towards the flickering fire in the distance. Two silhouettes stand in front of the flames, one with antlers coming out of his head - Oliver - and the other, tall with a halo of curls...

I watch the taller silhouette bend down, getting in Oliver's face. It can't be anyone else. It can't.

I turn back to James. "I'm really sorry, I just saw someone-"

His gaze flicks over to the fire, and then back to me. "It's fine." He cuts me off. "You're not really my type anyway. I don't make a habit of fucking Americans."

I only acknowledge the comment by flipping him off as I slip away, making a beeline for Farleigh. The walk to the open fire isn't long, and it's made even shorter by the speed at which I dash over. He stands up from Oliver, and I catch the sour look on Oliver's face as he stalks away, back towards the house. I breeze past him.

"Farleigh."

He turns, his face splitting into a grin when he sees me. "Eves." He drops the head of his costume in favor of sweeping me up into a hug. He squeezes me for a moment before he realizes what he's doing and sets me back down. "Sorry." He says, sheepish. "I just- sorry."

I can't help but giggle. "No, it's okay. It's so good to see you. It's been so boring without you here, I missed you."

He smiles. "You make a girl blush, Eves."

"So did you sneak in, or..?" I prompt, raising my eyebrows.

"Believe it or not, I was actually invited." He says. "They just can't resist my boyish charm."

"Is that what it's called?" I tease.

"That's what I call it." He says, dipping two fingers into his sleeve and pulling out a little baggy of white powder. He reaches down, grabbing one of my hands and shaking a line of powder onto the back before running his nose along the skin and hoovering it up. I watch, wide eyed, as he licks up the excess, never breaking eye contact with me.

Letting go of my hand, he wipes his nose, and jiggles the little baggy. "You want some? It's pure - I made sure."

"Why not?" I say, taking the baggy from him. He holds out his hand, and I do what he just did, shaking a line across the back of his palm and snorting it up. Only, instead of running my tongue over his hand, I simply look at him. "Go on. Lick."

Pupils blown wide - from the coke or my words, I don't know - he licks the back of his hand, swallowing the rest of the powder.

"Where's Venetia?" He asks.

I glance behind me, back towards the manor house. "Dunno. She went to go get a drink a while ago. Probably throwing herself at Ollie by now." I look back at him. "Why?"

He shrugs. "Just wondering if she was going to tug on your leash anytime soon." He says.

"Farleigh." I give him a look.

Undeterred, he continues. "Since she's left you, how about hanging out with me?"

I grin, stepping closer to him. "I'd like nothing more."