Living the Life of Riley | ✔

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

 Veronica's party was in full swing; drunk teenagers were slung over each other using their tongues to slobber the other person's face.  This was great!  Brilliant!  While they were off their heads, almost getting laid, I was sat here with a bottle of vodka.  Okay, so it wasn't vodka.  It was water.  I wasn't going to use a bottle though (too obvious and who drinks water at a party?  Only losers do) and so I decided to camouflage my water.  I'd done the same with various drinks.  My Lambrini was filled with apple juice, my Kopparbergs... well, they didn't really need changing.  That was the one drink (apart from Jacques Cider) that I missed the most, I mean... it was so fruity and so refreshing and now I had to drink strawberry and kiwi Robinson's squash instead.  Yum?

Honestly, I hated this.  I wanted to join everyone, smoke a little, drink a little... get laid.  But I couldn't.  One mistake and now all this happened; I was basically the 'responsible' adult of the party (although no one knew).  It sucked.  Big time.  I had no idea what to do!  Normally I was getting laid, getting wasted (and not remembering the rest of the night) or doing a little bit of illegal drugs.  But no, tonight I was sat on Liam's couch making sure no-one broke anything.

I looked around to see if I could see Beau or Dylan.  I'd tried to set them up earlier but I had no idea where it went.  My setting up consisted of this:

Me: Dylan, this is Beau.  Beau, Dylan.

Dylan: What's up, man?

Me: Well, before I ruin this momentous moment in history, I'm off.  I'm going to get fake shit-faced.  Good-bye, good sirs.

See how awesome I was?  I didn't fancy watching the awkwardness.  It wasn't my thing.  This was why I didn't do relationships; I did flings.  Less talking, more smooching means less awkwardness and trying to impress someone.  The only people I wanted to impress were my crew and my friends.  Which reminded me: I needed to meet up with Georgia soon.  I mean, I hadn't really talked to her – I hadn't seen her at lunch for the past week... it was weird.  Although, I was hanging out with Thom more – guys were more interesting than girls.

Pushing myself off the sofa, I decided to go and find someone.  Avoiding all the drunk people, especially those who had drinks in their hands, I pushed my way into the hallway.  Looking up the stairs, I could see people crowding round.  Luckily, no one would be going into my room.  I'd made sure to lock it and barricade it – there was a heavy cupboard in front of my door.  I refused to have strangers screwing on my bed.  That was reserved for me and my imaginary guy.  A hottie.  A good lover.  I didn't know who I was dreaming about – anyone at this point.  Damn teenager hormones and the addictiveness of sex.

I heard some loud, boyish voices and I groaned.  It was the twit who I'd hit on my very first day.  Granted, I'd seen him round and he'd glared at me but still.  I was waiting for revenge.  I wanted him to strike back; I didn't like people who gave out empty threats.  I mean, if he was going to act tough why not go through with it?  Otherwise he was just a lying sleazebag.  Why on earth had Veronica invited him?

Ignoring and avoiding him, I made my way to the kitchen.  Still holding my fake drink, I took a swig.  To be fair, I didn't need to act drunk (although I'd been drunk enough several times to master that art) and since everyone else was too busy gulping down as much alcohol as their tolerance could handle, they wouldn't be noticing me.  Especially not when they couldn't even walk straight.  I could smell the stench of vomit in the air as I walked in.  I almost barfed right there and then but I managed to swallow it back down.  It wasn't great.

“Beau?”  I shouted over the loud music.  Loud, dub step music.  If Liam's speakers broke, he'd kill Veronica... and the person who broke them.  I think Liam would have preferred my sort of party.  It would have been less... messy.  There wouldn't be about fifty kids getting smashed.  I didn't hear a response so I shouted again.  No answer.  Instead of giving up, I asked the teenagers who were occupying the kitchen.  Several said no, but a few said he'd gone outside.  Even though they probably were seeing anything and everything, I went out anyway.  Who knew if they'd really seen him?