Jennifer Reid: Chapter One, Part TwoA Chapter by Audrey DiGirolamo
Part two of chapter one. Jennifer's story.
I can’t really remember the last thing my parents told me before I hit this party; which kind of sucks. My parents and I don’t talk much anymore, not ever since I really started to grow up and get my own life; not one they could play around with.
It’s as if they don’t care where I go and who I see anymore, like now that I can be on my own (but come home almost every night to sleep), their parenting days are over. They don’t have to be there anymore to help me because I can handle it.
“Mom, I’m going out.”
“Okay J. Have fun.”
I’m pretty sure those were the last words. Nothing like a curfew or I love you because they could care less and I think they still have a little faith in me coming home when I should. What a responsible little girl.
J, my cute nickname, otherwise my parent’s nickname for me. Deep down inside I guess I like them calling me that, and it pissed me off when my friends came over and heard them calling me by it and started to tease me (the nerve). It made me feel connected to my parents and loved by them still like I was when I was a little girl. My friends wouldn’t understand that feeling. I could call them a few choice words on how stupid they can really be. It’s soooo annoying.
“God, I just luuuuv partiezzz.” Kyra Port slurred next to me.
I wrinkled my nose at the smell of her alcohol-ridden breath, “Don’t get wasted, that is so uncool.” I looked away, grossed out about how much she drinks. Seriously, you don’t drink that much at a party unless you purposely want to get laid. And it doesn’t even matter by who when you’re that drunk.
She must’ve walked away because the next time I turn around she’s not there. Well good, because really, I don’t like Kyra anyways, she’s always taking my “sloppy seconds” if you could call it that. When I stop liking a guy, she goes after them. And it’s not pretty. Because you’re not allowed to like your best friends crush, but when they’re over them you can go after them. But poor Kyra, she’s got lousy sex-appeal, and guys just use her. She’ll learn the hard way when she’s knocked up with a kid, but I could care less. I tried to tell her.
Kyra’s also good to hang around when you do want to get drunk. Which trust me was only once, or twice. Whatever, she’s like, not a very good friend anyways.
The group hanging around me was boring, so I pushed myself off the wall and disposed of my soda can. I needed a drink. Badly. Stepping around people grinding in the middle of the room, I walked into the kitchen with a determined attitude. And then someone stepped in my way.
“Walking here,” I said sharply.
A guy laughed, “Jennifer right?”
I glanced sideways, eyeing the guy. He was a major hottie; I mean whoa seriously. He totally looked like someone I knew but I couldn’t place my finger on it. All I knew was that I was bored and he knew my name.
I looked him up and down; loose-fitting worn jeans, but high enough not to expose any boxer (ohmigod, gross!), black chest-hugging band tee-shirt and tousled wavy brown hair. It looked like he hadn’t combed it and it was still wet from the shower, but it gave him this edge. He had big chocolate brown eyes and a firm shoulder line.
“Yeah, you can call me Jen,” I leaned towards him, breathing in his cologne. I smiled slyly, like a secret.
“So Jen, care to dance?” he asked, grinning.
I grimaced; remembering my quest for a drink. His grin twitched in disappointment.
“Here,” he said, probably noting my frown, “you go out there and I’ll get some drinks. I’ll meet you there.” And he turned around without an answer. He was confident, and I liked that.
I made my way to the center of the floor, moving to the vibrating music and feeling the beat run through me. I wasn’t professional material, but damn I could move. I stuck my arms in the air and moved my hips side to side. Dancing never felt better.
He came a few minutes later, drinks in both hands. I eyed the blue liquid but thought a guy that cute wouldn’t try to drug me. Of course not. I’m just being paranoid. Loosen up Jen.
I downed the drink in one swift motion, feeling the burn as it slid down my throat.
Before I knew it, the party lights seemed dimmer and blurred, and my whole mind and being felt so loose; I could feel his arms on my waist and my mouth on his, but everything was so smashed together I didn’t really know or think about what I was doing once.
“Follow me,” he whispered in my ear, his hot breath tickling the inside of my ear. I giggled as he took my hand and led me away.
© 2010 Audrey DiGirolamo
Added on April 2, 2010
Last Updated on April 2, 2010