A Compelling Motive (h.s.)

one

The champagne bubbles in my mouth; my eyes scan the room. I have hated these events since I was forced to start coming at the age of thirteen. My eyes spot my older sister in the corner, socializing with all the people she knows. I, of course, know no one. It is assumed I would, considering the event is for A-List people and I somehow was placed on it, but there is not a single soul here that would even be able to tell you my name.

As I keep my eyes peeled for anyone to even start a conversation with, I just observe every single thing in my surroundings. There are men in suits, talking to other men in suits. There are women, wearing far less clothing than me, shamelessly trying to flirt with said men in suits. As I turn my head to the left, I see my sister's friend, rubbing the arm of a faceless man. She smiles, clearly trying to seduce, but her face turns to an emotion of upset. He has no interest.

She walks away, stumbling slightly. Perhaps it's due to the alcohol; or her desperation being thrown into her face. I smile to myself, bringing the champagne back to my lips. I close my eyes, letting the bubbles hit my tongue again. When they open, I meet the gaze of my sister. She nods her head, tilting it in a way to signal for me to come to her. I shift my weight back onto both my feet, my lean against the high table suddenly sounding much more appealing than whatever conversation is going to be met once I reach my sister.

"You look unhappy. Look more excited; you are dragging my down," she spits at me, my eyes rolling. Her brown eyes are beady; nothing ever good enough for her. But my blue eyes look through her; I know her like no other and she knows not to mess with me. She may have more power, but I have brutal honesty and one text, tweet, or post, she might as well kiss her perfect reputation goodbye.

"Like I am. I'm just leaning against a table. I'm not flinging myself at guys," I say back, her jaw noticeably clenching. I take not to the awful amount of bronzer she put on today. One shade darker and she'd give an orange a run for its money.

"Just look civil for once. Keep your posture straight."

I turn and wave her off, my heels clinking against the marble floors. I walk up the stairs and move down the hallway to the bathroom. When I see my reflection in the mirror, I see that my lipstick is wearing off. I reapply it and take note to my hair. I smooth out the small frizz, making sure my curls are still intact.

The handle on the door is cold and I walk out, seeing the back of the same man who turned my sister's friend down. Once I pass him, I continue on down the stairs again and make my way to a different part of the room. I grab a new glass of champagne from the waiter's tray, thanking him before he turns away.

"May I join you?"

I turn to see a girl, clearly in pain, and her blonde hair is pulled back to a disheveled bun on the base of her neck. I give her a nod, as well as stick out my hand. She grabs it, leaning down and fixing her heel.

"You good?" I ask, her head looking up.

"My heels are being an absolute pain in my butt. Plus, my boyfriend is somewhere unknown, and some chick just spilled her champagne in my hair." Her hands are thrown up, signaling her messy hair.

"Well you don't look as bad as you think," I tell her, handing her my glass. She pounds the bubbles in seconds and I can't help but let out an amused snort.

"This is a really bad night, I'd say," I comment, and her eyes roll back in almost an annoyed agreement.

"You don't mind? I just need as much of this shit as I can so I can just let loose," she says, and I shake my head.

"Why don't we go sit down," I add, her head nodding. We go find a table, her body slumping into a chair. This girl is a hot mess. I wish there was something I could to help her, but I don't know what I would even do. Her problems are mainly in her head, so I opt to help her hair. With a couple moves with the pins in her hair, it seems much more back in place and she thanks me as if I've saved her life.