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Bliss
With every stroke of my foundation brush, I get a little more annoyed. I don’t want to go to this party, but India insists I go with her. I’m not sure why because once she sets her eyes on a guy she is most assuredly going home with them. Then I’ll be left alone, Patrick said he would try to meet up with us if he gets done with his clients early, which I doubt will happen. Frat parties aren’t really my cup of tea, house parties in general are not my thing, but for India I’ll go. She says I need to move on and get some rebound dick, but I highly doubt it will happen tonight, at a frat party.
Finishing my make-up, I slide into my favorite ripped skinny jeans and a hunter green crop top, with the new pair of brown ankle booties I saw the other day. Most girls are going to be prancing around in tiny skirts and barely there outfits, not me. Speaking of said outfits, India bursts into my room in the tiniest romper I have ever seen, hugging all her petit curves.
“Don’t you look modest.” I smirk, giving myself a once over in the mirror before spraying perfume on.
“And don’t you look like a stuck-up bitch,” she quips back taking my perfume and spraying herself. “Are you ready?”
Groaning, I turn away from my mirror. “Not really, why can’t we just go to Dixie’s?”
Indi rolls her eyes. “Because no one will be there, they will all be at this party.”
“That’s even better.”
She frowns. “You’re just worried Cuba will be there.” She calls me out. “I heard he wouldn’t be, but even if he is, just ignore him.”
I wouldn’t have to ignore him, he would do that for me, like he has been for weeks now. I see him everywhere, it feels like, but he doesn’t see me, if he does, he’s never given me a hint that he did. I don’t know what hurts more, the note he left the last night we had together or him acting like I never existed. Both. They both hurt.
You deserve better.
That’s all he could say, that’s all I was worth, a few words. It didn’t take long for me to hear he was back on the basketball team, India texted me the moment it happened. I’m happy for him, I am. I gave him hope, and he gave me a few words to say goodbye. He acts like we never happened. I miss him, and he doesn’t even think twice about me. I miss our nights together, I miss his touch, and the softness of his lips against my skin. Most of all, I miss him looking at me like I was the only girl in the world. He told me over and over he could never give me more, but there I was, still hoping with every kiss.
I blink back tears, I spent too long on this winged eyeliner to mess it up over a man that can’t even acknowledge me.
“Come on, don’t shed a tear for that asshole.” India tries to comfort me, but I shrug her off.
“I’m not, let’s just get out of here, I need a drink.” I grab my cross-body bag and make sure I slip my lipstick and cards in.
India does a little shimmy dance. “Yes girl, let’s get a drink.”
I shake my head laughing at her.
When our Uber pulls up to the frat house I start to regret this all over again. Guys are outside being flipped upside down over a line of kegs, a race apparently, of who will drown first. I give India the side eye and she just shrugs, shaking her head. Guys are already flocking to her as we walk up the driveway, and I leave her to it. I need a drink, hopefully they have more than warm beer.
Inside the house is no better, music blasts from speakers around the room causing the floor to rattle with every beat. As I imagined, barely clothed girls are dancing on the makeshift dance floor in the living room, the couches pushed back against the wall and are crowded with couples making out. I have avoided frat parties for the last two years for this reason. I push past bodies to get into the kitchen, which is surprisingly unpopulated.
“Well, look who climbed off her high horse,” someone slurs.
My attention goes to the owner of the voice and I frown. “Hi, Dylan.”
Dylan is Dex’s teammate, I wouldn’t call them friends since they hate each other. I’m not sure why but Dylan isn’t my favorite person. He had hit on me before I started dating Dex, but I turned him down, there’s something about how his dark eyes linger on me too long.
He hops down off the counter, running a hand through his floppy brown hair. “Bliss, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” He walks over to the table holding all the liquor. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Um, sure.”
“What’s your poison, babe?” He grins. “Vodka, Hennessy, tequila?”
I peer over at the bottles. “I guess Vodka.”
Dylan starts to make my drink when someone pinches my bare side, jumping, I swing around.
India smiles at me holding a beer. “You always complain that I leave you and you’re the one that left me.”
I wave my hand around. “I have to drink if we must be here.” Turning around, Dylan is holding my drink in a classic red solo cup, his grin has turned into a smile.
“Thanks.” I take it from him. “Is there a charge?”
