Until I Met Her

Chapter 2

BEST. PARTY. EVER!

I don't know if I'm drunk or if I'm just euphoric and at some point, later tonight, I'll break down and cry my eyes out but right at this moment, I'm as happy as I can ever be.

I was never a party person, I had no coordination when it came to dancing, despite my mother's efforts to teach me salsa or any sort of dancing at all claiming that, as a Latin-American woman, I should know how to dance but I think I took after my father because we both had two left feet. I always tried to avoid parties convinced that parties were for dancing. Oh, boy was I wrong. I didn't know I was such a social butterfly until I was in the middle of a party, discussing things with people I didn't even know and who would follow me on Instagram the next day...

Usually, though, at parties I hung around with Nick. He didn't dance either so we usually stood around. We always had the best conversations after midnight. However, tonight, Nick is very concentrated on his phone, tapping the screen like his life depended on it.

I tried texting Freddie or Lexi, my other two best friends but neither answered their phone and I'm almost certain they didn't come. Gio was trailing after a shirtless blonde boy.

It was getting late and I drank a bit too much, more than what I'm used to and when I drink my bladder gets weak and I need to pee every five minutes.

I drag my body back to the bathroom. I have no idea whose house this is but as soon as I got in, I memorised the way to the bathroom because I knew sooner or later I was going to need it and boy, was I right.

My body's heavy, my lower belly feels tight and all I want is to pee. I open the bathroom door and shut it a bit too harshly. I rest my forehead against the door and unbutton my jeans, slowly trying to wiggle out of them.

"Um— what are you doing?" A voice startles me to the point where I'm sure almost all the alcohol escapes my system. Not by peeing, though; I held it in like a champ. I promised myself I was never, ever, ever going to pee myself again.

That's a very embarrassing story that I would rather never get into.

I jump turning around to face the direction where the voice came from. I had my jeans down and I missed my footing... I fell down. Of course, being the clumsy little shit that I am, I didn't go down alone, nope. I brought something with me, something metallic.

I didn't pay much attention to it because, even in my half drunken state, I recognised the voice and the little mocking laughter that came when I fell down.

Just my luck.

In front of me, lying in the bathtub with her legs hanging over the edge, was my archenemy.

Eleanor Williams.

My relationship with Eleanor Williams has always been more complicated than it needs to be. Our mothers have been best friends their whole lives. Mum always said that after leaving her homeland everything was difficult but meeting Adele was like a blessing. Adele, though, moved out of town when she finished uni, she married some rich guy and it wasn't until I was 10 years old that the Williams came to live here and I met Eleanor Williams.

It was then, when the Williams came back to town, when I realised that Eleanor Williams was the most spoiled little brat to have ever lived. As for my mother and Mrs. Williams, it was as if time had not gone by; they picked up right where they left off and they dreamt of the day Eleanor and I were as close as they were but we just never really liked each other.

Eleanor's icy blue eyes are red and puffy. She looks down at me as if I'm some sort of joke. If we were back in high school, I would've run away in embarrassment and in fear of what her friends would say. Eleanor was the popular girl, the one everybody heard of and everybody wanted to be friends with. She was obviously friends with the popular crowd, the ones that were so cliché that even the way they bullied others seemed to be out of a bad 90's movie.