Page 10 of Escaping Our Reality

And… now I know she has a great ass.

“Not a fan of beer?”

My words startle her, and she yelps, quickly spinning around. It takes her a moment to regain her composure. I’m sure it does seem odd to see someone on a computer, in the dark, outside, when a party is raging just inside the trailer doors.

And… now I know she’s fucking gorgeous.

She stiffens her spine and lifts her pouty little nose in the air. “Not a fan of lowered inhibitions.”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone with such good posture.

“What about you?” She dips her chin at me. “Not a fan of parties?”

I take a swig of my own beer. “Not a fan of escaping reality.”

She opens her mouth and then closes it, thinking about and accepting my answer, without prying more.

“I’ve not seen you here before.”

“That’s because I’ve not been here before.” She doesn’t elaborate.

And… now I know she’s kind of a bitch.

“Invited or crashing?”

“Trash invited me.”

Disappointment courses through my body, deflating it like a popped balloon. So, she’s one ofthose. Pill-popping, little rich girl, ready to piss off Daddy by banging a junkie from the wrong side of the tracks. “I see.” Turning back to my laptop screen, I do my best to ignore her.

Which is very hard to do. I mean, she’s really fucking gorgeous.

My silence aggravates her and she takes some tentative steps in my direction. “So, you come to parties here often?”

“I’m not the person to see for pills.”

She pins me with her eyes, forcing me to look away from my homework. “I’m not here for pills.”

Her hair hangs straight like a curtain, falling around her ample breasts. Not that I can see her ample breasts; her shirt doesn’t show any cleavage.

I’ve offended her. She didn’t like me insinuating that she was here to score drugs. I quickly save my document and flip the lid of my laptop closed, gently laying it on the railing beside me. “What’s your name?”

“Everyone calls me Ella.”

“Why does everyone call you that? Is that not your name?”

She breathes deeply.

It must suck, standing like a statue all the time.

“My name is Luella. But no one calls me that. It’s just Ella.”

“Luella.” I work the word over my tongue. It stirs a weird feeling in my stomach. “Alright, Lulu, it is.”

She snorts, not realizing that I will never call her Ella now.

“What about you? What’s your name?”

I smirk, taking another pull of my beer. “Everyone calls me Crutch.”

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