College Party I
Camila
I don't go to parties at high school. Individuals waiting around with nothing to discuss and crappy music? I much prefer to be in a club.
I haven't, however, explored the wild college parties. But the way it looks, I already know I won't like it.
In addition to being too loud for their own good, this frat house is too small to accommodate this many people.
Mason and I were left to fend for ourselves when Ava abruptly left us, claiming that she was going home with a sorority girl.
Mason was the only other person who disliked this as much as I did. He didn't like big crowds and didn't like college students.
"We should become inebriated. I want to neglect I'm here." He whispers behind me. "Sure-" I express however before I can complete my sentence, I'm pushed by somebody who staggers past me.
"Watch where the fuck you're going shrek!" I glare at his fat head. I pull my nose up in resentment as the man ignores me and continues to move through the crowd.
I formally detested school parties. "We should become inebriated." I agree and lead Mason to the kitchen by taking his hand.
The night had been a finished lemon. We weren't even invited to the first "party" Ava had dragged us to.
It was a surprisingly realistic pretend of Macbeth in a shabby old lounge, where I sat between two arbitrary folks, who both attempted watchfully putting their hands up my skirt.
We slipped through the back door and ran two streets over to this party after the first of many intermissions.
Fortunately, Mason was just as bored. Not to mention that I had been texting Alejandro without getting a response, which had made me feel a little down.
Camila Rodriguez, my name, was left on read. It was incredibly disheartening.
I was tired of not getting anywhere with him, and I was deprived of touch and attention.
"Could I at any point get you a beverage?" Comes a voice from behind me. I go to see a kid, light brown wavy hair, blue eyes, tall form wearing a football pullover.
He wasn't very cute. But I knew better than to trust a frat boy, so I shake my head and smile at the guy as I hold up Mason's and my hands, which are entwined.
"My boyfriends have already covered it." I say that Jersey Boy looks a little disappointed because Mason's attention is still on his phone, where he is probably texting someone.
He gives Mason a quick glance and then moves closer to whisper to me. "Babydoll, if you change your mind, come find me." I pull Mason further into the kitchen toward the drinks rather than responding.
"What is it that you need?" "None of it matters." He continues to mumble on his phone. I squint my eyes at him however go to make us each a beverage.
I grab two red Solo cups and begin pouring pineapple juice and tequila while someone approaches Mason and tries to start a conversation.
"Hey handsome, will you pour me a drink?" A delicate voice murmurs. Mason murmurs from behind me and I shake my head in disillusionment.
Despite the fact that the girl probably has a lot of charm, Mason will still reject her. "Sorry, my girlfriend is here," I hear someone say as I feel someone grab my Ass.
I turn around and wave my hand away from Mason with a scowl. "Is already preparing a drink for me." He says that his focus has returned to his phone.
I give her a small, sympathetic smile as her smile fades. "Assuming it's any relief, you could show improvement over him." She says, "So could you," as she looks at me up and down. "I know." As I watch her turn and leave, I smile.
I take a sip from my drink, give Mason his, and when I get tired of him being so inconsiderate, I grab his phone. "What the fuck has caused you to become so disoriented?" I move away from him when he reaches for the phone.
"Cam! Return it to me." Before looking down at the screen, I giggle. I say, "No, I want to see-" as I look down at the messages between Mason and a person with the name Mommy next to a cherry emoji.
She's requesting that he come over and afterward when my eyes trail lower they extend at seeing an exceptionally noteworthy photograph of a lady's uncovered bosoms and coochie.
I quickly return it to Mason after making a bunched-up face. I didn't want to see that, eww. As he removes his phone and types on it, Mason smirks.
As he looks at the picture, I gag because I can see his pupils expanding. Something isn't quite right about my closest companion. He then gazes toward me, a quiet request and I scrunch my face up.
"Simply go." I suggest turning around and drinking heavily. And before I know it, Mason is on his way to his next booty call and gives me a half-a-hug goodbye.
In an effort to make this evening better, I finish my drink and pour myself another, enjoying the heat of the tequila in my throat.
However, the moment I realize I'm all alone, my mood plummets. However, I try not to dwell on it too much.
Before heading to the dance floor, I simply consume another drink. The music is the only subpar aspect of this film.
As a result, I let myself become lost in it. I shut my eyes, clear my head, and imagine myself somewhere other than here.
Maybe encompassed with individuals that cause me to feel cherished all over. But my psyche actually floats to the man that has been moving through my viewpoints recently.
However, I gave in to the wandering thoughts because I was too drunk to handle them. I smile and close my eyes, imagining I'm here with him, his hands all over me, as the song shifts to a slower, more sensual rhythm.
He would come up behind me and snake major areas of strength for him around my abdomen.
His large hands would be on my hips, and he would gently guide my ass onto his crotch while kissing my neck.
I would move my hips to the beat of the music while he spoke to me in that deep, rough voice, and I would always push myself harder into him.
His weighty breathing would hit my ear and his inebriating smell would fill my faculties, meanwhile I would toss my head back and fold my arms over his neck from behind.
While he whispered his desire to escape, I would kiss under his jaw and neck. "I'm assuming your boyfriend dipped."
When I turn my head around, I find that the same boy who came before me had sneaked up behind me and was now whispering to me.
I sigh inwardly.
Was I constantly imagining Alejandro while dancing with him? I needed to grasp something.
I decide in a blur of confusion that Jersey Boy could give me the attention that Alejandro did not.
"Yes, no problem." I let him touch my hips from behind as I hum, and he starts swaying us to the music.
By the way he would smile and wink at flirtatious girls while walking by and keep glancing at them, I could tell he was popular.
It made sense; if I hadn't been exposed to a real man, I would have once thought he was adorable.
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