Page 9 of Unbinding the Demon
The three of us perfected our makeup, crammed in the tiny bathroom mirror like one of those awkward family photos where everyone’s squished on top of one another. My dark circles seemed rather resilient against the coating of concealer I slathered on, but other than that, I didn’t look too bad. I tried to work with them and put on some grungy eyeliner. Meanwhile, William created a flawless and dramatic smoky eye with ease. The guy had some serious cosmetic skills. And Lacey enhanced her natural beauty with a dark and mystifying look.
A quick knock on the door interrupted our beautifying frenzy. “That’s probably Darrell,” Lacey said while touching up her black eyeshadow. “He’s always a bit early.”
“I’ll get it. I’m done messing around with this anyway.” I put my tube of mascara down and walked out of the fruity hairspray-scented bathroom.
I opened the front door, and sure enough, Darrell greeted me with his charming smile. The man had godlike good looks, high cheekbones, a square jaw, big dark brown eyes, the works. I would say that I was shocked Lacey managed to bag and tag such a trophy of a man, but he was the one who caught her. “Hey, Gwendolyn, is everyone ready to go?” There was a friendly twinkle in his eyes while he held the screen door open with his shoulder.
“I think they might need another minute or two, but they should be done soon,” I smiled and then stepped aside to welcome him in. I had always been glad that Lacey found someone who was genuinely kind-hearted and gentlemanly. We had been best friends since elementary school, so I was rather protective of her.
“There she is!” Darrell exclaimed with a wide grin as Lacey skipped to him.
He caught her in his brawny arms and swung her around, eliciting a melodious giggle from her. They shared a modest kiss and then smiled nose to nose. She ran her hand over his short, twisted black curls and down his stubbly cheek, lovingly smiling up into his eyes. The royal blue shirt he had on complemented her crimson dress, and it looked like they belonged on a poster advertising the ideal couple.
Lacey turned to holler down the hall. “William, hurry up! We’re leaving!”
“Hold on, bitches, I’m still working on my wings!” William shouted back from the bathroom.
“Well, you’re holding us all up, you snail!” Lacey laughed.
“I said hold on!”William leaned out of the bathroom doorway, using his long, thin arm to catapult a small makeup brush at her while screeching like a bird.
Once everyone was ready, we scrambled through the heavy rain to Darrell’s light gray Nissan. The car was so immaculately clean that I felt uncomfortable getting in with my now semi-muddy shoes. But being the gentleman that he was, Darrell insisted it was fine. I scooched into the back with William, thanked Darrell for the ride, and tried to keep my sleepy eyes open as we headed off to the party.
“Gwendolyn... Gwenny-love... We’re here.”William’s vivacious voice drifted through my slumbering thoughts as he tapped my face.
My groggy eyes opened after a moment of resistance. I was lying on my side with my head on his lap, becoming aware that I had dozed off on the way over. The scent of an autumn spice car air freshener filled my senses while I sat up and blinked at him sleepily. The dim light from his phone screen lit up his amused face.
“How long was I out?” I peered over at the empty front seats while fixing my hair, surmising that Lacey and Darrell must have already gone inside. My nap couldn’t have lasted over ten minutes, but I felt a little sprightlier.
“Not that long. I needed to text Oliver during his break, so I let you snooze for a little longer.” He shot me a smile while unbuckling his seatbelt. “Now come on, let’s go!”
We held hands as we rushed through the rain puddles and approached the gigantic house. Music blasted loud enough to reach across the yard, and many shenanigans were already occurring on the front porch. The house, like many in Sycamore Valley, was old yet well-kept. Its bright diamond-paned windows showed glimpses of the lively party inside. Amelia was the keyboardist for a semi-popular local darkwave band. She rented the place with her bandmates, allowing them to coordinate practice times without difficulty.
The large double doors opened before us, revealing a sea of bodies crammed like a can of sardines, making my anxiety spike through the roof. Nineties goth music blared loud enough to shatter the windows. The stench of tobacco and weed smoke wafted through the air like a suffocating miasma. People were dangling off the balcony. One guy wore nothing but a giant sombrero. Another guy was going around, filling up everyone’s solo cups with an oversized squirt gun full of booze.
I lost William while bumbling my way through the rowdy crowd. It was doubtful that Amelia had considered the possibility of rain when she’d invited this many people. It seemed like no one wanted to be out back on the patio, so we were all crowded inside together.
After grabbing some spiked fruit punch, I found a quiet corner in the main room where I could take a few deep breaths to ease my crowd anxiety. I enjoyed parties, but this was downright overwhelming. Plus, being so tired had me considering crawling under a table and passing out. I recognized a few attendees; I felt no need to speak with them though. And so, I stood there, awkwardly sipping my drink and putting on my bestI’m-here-to-have-fun-but-don’t-actually-talk-to-meface.
I wondered what William was off doing. But knowing him, he was likely hanging out with all the stoners. Lacey was practically velcroed to Darrell’s arm among the sweaty crowd, laughing with a few girls from her tennis team. I still had yet to even see Amelia. The endless sea of bodies made it impossible to spot her short frame. I considered going over and joining Lacey. Her teammates were quite nice and had come to the house a few times. Yet I felt glued to the safety of my corner by an irrational feeling of apprehension and social awkwardness.
“Hi, I’m James.” A cute brunette guy spun around and leaned his back against the wall right beside me in one smooth motion. His beautiful ocean-blue eyes surveyed the crowd, and then he glanced my way to flash a knee-weakening smile that oozed confidence. He wore a pair of ripped jeans and an open black leather jacket, revealing a death metal band tee underneath. So, obviously, I was already wrapped around his finger.
“Oh, hi. I’m Gwendolyn, Amelia’s friend.” I smiled with a tiny wave, hoping that he didn’t notice the blush creeping across my cheeks.
The small silver piercing on his left eyebrow gleamed as he leaned in a bit closer. I sucked in a breath, inhaling a whiff of vetiver cologne. “Well, Gwendolyn, you look kinda lonely hanging out over here all by yourself.” He took a sip from his cup, glancing around again as he did so. “I thought you could use some company.”
“Yeah...” I drawled while twirling my almost-empty drink. “I didn’t actually want to come to this thing, but I had promised a few of my friends that I would. I’m not the biggest fan of large parties.”
“Understandable,” he chuckled against the rim of his cup before taking another sip. “Well, there aren’t too many people in the kitchen, plus there’s a better drink selection in there. You should come with me,” he paused. “Unless you want that guy giving you a refill, that is.” He nodded to the guy with the squirt gun. He was now crouching over another guy on the floor, shoving the tip of the squirt gun into the poor fellow’s mouth while holding it at his crotch. It looked like he was making the dude deep-throat the thing as he squirted an overflowing amount of alcohol into his gagging, sputtering mouth.
I turned to him with the most alluring smile I could muster and polished off my drink. “Let’s go to the kitchen.”
About an hour later, I was smashed. And I meanreally fucking smashed. James and I had been hitting it off rather well, or so I thought. We’d been talking and laughing over an oversized bottle of white wine, seeming to have a lot in common. I was thinking that I might have made a new friend. Or even a potential boyfriend, judging by how flirtatious he was acting. His blue eyes lustfully raked over my wobbly figure while he poured me a shot of vodka.
“Isn’t it a bad idea to mix different types of alcohol?” I giggled with a tiny hiccup while accepting the shot.
“Terrible,” he responded, and then downed another shot.
