“Uh … it was like that at my school too,” I admit. I could have lied, but she’s got the yearbook in her hands, so she’s most likely about to find every other nerdy picture of me in there. Fortunately, there’s no picture of me holding a violin. Allegra doesn’t need to know I play that ‘horrid, screechy thing.’ Or played, rather than play, since I haven’t removed it from its case since I got to Cape Town. I took it with me to Germany and played whenever I had free time, but now the softening calluses on the fingertips of my left hand are a testament to my lack of practice.
“Really? Huh.” She looks between the yearbook picture and me, her eyes moving back and forth several times. “You’ve really transformed, Livi. I mean, I know most people do when they leave school, but you’ve really transformed. Like a butterfly from a caterpillar,” she says with a large grin, clearly pleased with her comparison. “Anyway, hurry up at the mirror. I’ve still got to do my make-up.”
I return to the mirror inside my cupboard door, and Allegra drapes herself across my armchair with my yearbook in her hands. She’s flying home to Empangeni tomorrow afternoon, which means we’re going to the Camps Bay party together. “Did you bring that new eyeshadow?”
“Uh huh.” She points to the make-up bag on my bed.
“Thanks.” I rummage through the bag until I find the new smoky eyeshadow Allegra bought this afternoon. “Oh, did I tell you Jackson finally referred to me as his girlfriend today when introducing me to someone?”
“FINALLY!” Allegra lowers the yearbook and beams at me. “I mean, we all knew you guys were heading that way, but at least it’s official now.”
“I know.” I let out a happy sigh before returning to the mirror.
“Oh, wow,” Allegra says. I don’t look. Whatever incriminating photo she’s found this time, I don’t want to know about it. “I didn’t notice this cushion before. It’s awesome.”
Cushion? I peer around my cupboard door and see her holding the Marauder’s Map cushion. AND SHE THINKS IT’S AWESOME! I try to remain cool and uninterested as I say, “Oh, you like Harry Potter?”
“Yes. Well, I’ve grown out of it now, but I was totally obsessed back when I was, like, fourteen. I would have loved this cushion.”
“So … when you were obsessed, did you read all the books?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” She turns back to the yearbook and flips through another few pages. “Believe it or not, I actually used to read more than just magazines.”
She used to read more than just magazines? Fantastic! Maybe she used to watch more than just trashy chick flicks and shallow TV dramas. Finishing off my make-up with a final application of mascara, I say, “How do you feel about Star Trek?”
“Um … is that the one with lightsabers and that little green guy with the pointy ears?”
“No, that’s Star Wars.”
“Okay, great, ’cause that little green dude was creepy.”
“You’ve … seen Star Wars?” Because if so, my mind has just officially been blown.
“Yes, my brother’s a fan, so I probably saw most of the movies when we were growing up. I’d definitely say I prefer the other one. Star Trek, right?”
“Yes.” I indicate that she can use the mirror now, and she jumps up to take my place. “So … you’ve seen Star Trek as well? Like, the series?”
“Oh, no, not that ancient crap. But I had to check out the movies. I mean, hello, Chris Pine. Drool-worthy.”
I perch on the edge of my bed and slip my feet into my heels. This is incredible. Who would have thought that my super popular, super beautiful friend would know about all this stuff. “And what’s your take on superheroes?” I ask.
She turns back to me, her eyes suddenly wide. “Thor—” she points her make-up sponge at me “—is hot.” We both start laughing. “What is this, anyway?” she asks. “Some kind of interrogation?”
I shake my head, still laughing. “It’s just … I thought all these things were seriously uncool. I was teased at school because of how excited I got about the interactive tribble toy my friends gave me for my fourteenth birthday. And once one of the cool kids caught me doing the Vulcan salute and saying ‘Live long and prosper,’ and I was labeled ‘alien dork’ for at least a month. Oh, and I had Spiderman socks in primary school, and all the girls teased me because I was apparently wearing boys’ socks. So, you know, I thought I had to hide the fact that I like all this stuff.”
Allegra lets out a dramatic sigh. “Kids are mean. They’ll tease you about anything. Being cool is all about confidence, really. Anyway, nerdy stuff is in these days. I mean, no one actually wants to be a nerd. Can you imagine the horror?” She doubles over with laughter, then straightens suddenly, her eyes going wide as they flick to the year book and back to me. “Right. I guess you can. Anyway, with all the movies these days—superheroes, kiddie wizards, Star-this and Star-that, X-Men, Y-Men, Z-Men, and who knows what else—this stuff has become popular. I mean, widely popular. Not just popular amongst the nerds.”
I lean back on my hands. “One more question. What did you think of Firefly?”
She presses her lipstick-covered lips together, then pouts at herself in the mirror. “Firefly? Never heard of it.”
I smile to myself. “I guess that one was only popular amongst the nerds.”
Someone knocks at the door, and I cross the room to open it.
“Hey,” Adam says, his eyes moving down my body before quickly looking away. “Uh, sorry. I didn’t know you were getting ready to go out.”
“Hey there, cute guy with the glasses,” Allegra says, practising her flip-the-hair-over-the-shoulder move. With a sultry half-smile, she says, “I heard you’re back on the market.”
Adam looks at me, his cheeks reddening. They can’t possibly be as red as mine, though. Change the subject, change the subject. “Um, you wanted to ask me something?”
“Oh, yes, I’m working at Jazzy Beanbag tonight, but there’s a new band, The Electric Goat, that’s gonna be there. Hugo said they’re pretty good, so I thought you might want to come along and listen. Um, but you obviously already have plans.”
“Yes. I’m sorry. But thank you.”
“Oh!” Allegra says, her wide eyes and excited tone suggesting she’s just come up with a brilliant plan. “What time do you finish working? You should come join us later. This is the kind of party you could never get into on your own, but if you’re with us, everyone will think you’re part of the in-crowd.”
“Allegra,” I mutter as my face heats up again. Doesn’t she know how rude she’s being?
“What? Come on, it would be awesome. Adam can transform just like you did.” She nudges me, then winks at Adam. “You know, the caterpillar to butterfly thing.” Flipping flip, why does she like that stupid metaphor so much?
Adam clears his throat. “What party is this?”
“It’s in Camps Bay,” Allegra tells him. “You probably don’t know Royson Graves, but it’s his parents’ place. They’re away, so, you know, party time!”
“Uh huh. Sorry, but I think I’m going to be working really late tonight.” He turns to me. “Can I talk to you for a moment, Livi? Out there?” He motions to the passage with his head.
Yes. Please. Before Allegra says anything else embarrassing.
I follow Adam to the lounge. “I’m so sorry about that,” I say. “She has no filter sometimes. She honestly thinks she’d be helping you out by getting you into that party. She just has no idea how to say it without sounding …”
“Offensive?”
“Yes.”
“She was pretty rude, but that’s not what I’m worried about. This party tonight … I heard some people talking about it. About what’s going to be happening there. I really don’t think you should go.”
I give him a reassuring smile. “Remember when you were worried about me going to that club? And it all turned out fine?”
“But this feels … different.”
“Look, even if there is dodgy s
tuff going on, it doesn’t mean I have to take part in any of it. I’m not that kind of person, remember?”
“Really?” Adam looks doubtful. “You’ve changed, Liv. Sometimes I think you’ll do anything if it means the ‘right’ people accept you.”
I take a step backwards. “Okay, now you’re the one being offensive.”
“Am I? You changed your hair colour so a guy would think you’re hot; you wear these tight, revealing clothes you never wore before; you tell your friends I’m ‘back on the market’ like a piece of meat on special—”
“I did not say it like that, okay. I just mentioned to Allegra that—
“—and you never play your music anymore. What happened to the girl who told me she’d die if she could never create music again? The girl who agreed with me that music is wound so tightly around our souls it would never stop calling to us?”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Adam, other than that this is me. No one is forcing me to be this way. I like these clothes, I like my hair this way, and the music—” I swallow past the hollowness, past the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Maybe the music never meant as much to me as it did to you.”
I turn to go, but he catches my arm. “I didn’t mean for this to be another fight,” he says with a sigh. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m worried about you.”
I look at his fingers wrapped loosely around my arm. “Thanks.” I pull free. “But you don’t need to be.”
***
“Oh. My. Groot,” I murmur as Allegra and I climb out of her car and stare up at the palatial Camps Bay home.
Allegra looks at me. “What’s Groot? Oh, is that the new clothing line we saw at YDE?” She frowns. “No, wait, that was …” She shakes her head. “Never mind. So not important right now. This house. THIS. HOUSE. Oh my EVERYTHING.”
‘Oh my everything’ sums it up pretty well. I’m so in awe of this house I can’t even laugh at Allegra for mistaking my Guardians of the Galaxy reference for a clothing line. Nestled into the hillside rising behind Camps Bay, with a spectacular panoramic view of the ocean and surrounding mountains, it’s the kind of house that gets featured in glossy magazines along with a price tag at least five times the average person’s income for their entire working career. “Thank goodness we didn’t come in my car,” I whisper to Allegra as a group of people walk past us to the entrance.
She laughs. “I know, right? Wow. Freaking wow. We are eternally in Logan’s debt.”
Logan the Legend is the one who actually knows Royson Graves, so it was Logan who told Jackson and the rest of my group of friends to come along. We’re apparently part of a select few freshmen who’ve been invited. Charlotte couldn’t come, though, much to Allegra’s delight. She had a flight home this afternoon—and was apparently horribly disappointed to be missing out on this epic party.
“When’s Jackson getting here?” Allegra asks.
“Oh, in an hour or two I think. He had some stuff to do.”
“Cool, well let’s get inside. I don’t want to miss another second.”
We do our sexy walks across the driveway and into the house, where the vibe is similar to The Banana Pearl, but a thousand times classier. All the beautiful people are here, mingling with drinks in their hands, or—as we move further into the house—dancing to music that’s loud enough to really feel the beat but not so loud I’m worried my ears will be permanently damaged. The lights are dim, the holiday is here, I’m feeling happy and confident, and I am ready to DANCE.
“Hey!” Amber and Courtney call out and wave from the balcony where they’re sitting on two white-cushioned loungers surrounded by a bunch of guys I don’t know. Two weeks ago, they were apparently ‘on Charlotte’s side’ and not talking to Allegra, but Allegra’s been using her confidence and supreme socialite skills—as well as me and my connection to Logan—to show them that to be friends with Allegra is to be on the fun side of the island. It didn’t take them long to come running back.
Allegra smiles and flips her hair, but doesn’t stop to say anything as we saunter past Amber and Courtney. Because, of course, it’s all about letting them know that they need her and not the other way around. It makes me want to shake my head and laugh, because she clearly didn’t hear anything I said about maturity.
“Let’s dance,” I say to her. I slide between the moving bodies, raise my arms, and sway my hips to the beat. I don’t know what Adam was so worried about. Other people can do whatever the heck they want, but this is what I’m here for. Losing myself in the rhythm, the beat, the sound. All I need now are Jackson’s hands on my hips as the music winds around us, tangling us together, and this party will be perfect.
An hour or so and one or two drinks later, I notice a girl walking between the dancers holding what looks like a small silver platter. She leans closer to some of them, speaking into their ears. Others call her over. When she finally gets near enough for me to see what’s on the platter, warning bells go off in my head.
Dozens of small, coloured pills.
With a strained smile, I continue swaying my hips and lean closer to Allegra. “Is that what I think it is?” I say, glancing towards the girl with the platter.
Allegra puts on her playful half-smile and says, “You bet it is.”
The word ‘ecstasy’ runs through my head, but it probably has some cool street name I don’t know, so I say nothing, opting instead for a forced giggle.
Allegra moves past me, her shoulders and head bobbing up and down in time to the music. “Shall I get us some?”
“Oh yeah,” I say with a laugh. “I’d love to try some.”
“Awesome. I’ll be right back.”
“No, wait.” I grab her arm and pull her back. Someone gives me an odd look, so I smile, let go of Allegra, and start dancing again. “I was joking. I don’t … do that kinda thing.”
“Oh, come on. Don’t be such a goody-goody. Experimentation is totally normal. You’re not about to become some hardcore addict.”
I raise my arms, throw my head back, and change swaying tempo as the music morphs into something else. “I don’t need it,” I say, widening my smile so she can see how much fun I’m having without drugs.
Allegra shrugs and gives me a smug look. “Whatever. I’ll convince you later.”
Okay, so that was probably the part Adam was concerned about, but, like I told him, I’m not that kind of person.
The music continues, another drink finds its way into my hand, and before long, the sexy guy I’m lucky enough to call my boyfriend moves through the crowd towards me and slides his hands around my waist. “My sexy bunny,” he breathes into my ear, just loud enough for me to hear. His lips move down my neck and across my collar bone, and even though I’m really warm, a shiver passes through me.
I don’t know how long we spend locked together on the dance floor, but I’m relieved when Jackson finally leads me away, through several more rooms of dancers, and to a corner that could almost be considered private. His dancing was starting to feel a tad inappropriate, and I was on the verge of jokingly reminding him just how many people could see us.
“I’ve missed my sexy bunny,” he says, his thumb trailing along my jaw.
I bite my lip and give him a sultry smile. “Well, I’m all yours now.”
His eyes move to my mouth, and then his lips are on mine and he’s pressing me against the wall and our tongues are twisting together and I’m warm in places I’ve never been warm before. His fingers rake through my hair, trail over my shoulders, and then he’s squeezing my left breast. Which is a whole lot more than I was expecting, and feels super awkward in a crowded room of dancers.
“Whoa, hold on there,” I say through my laughter, removing his hand as his lips press kisses against my neck. I feel his breath against my skin as he chuckles.
His hands slide down to my waist—an area that isn’t off-limits—and his mouth moves back to mine. I return his kisses with just as much passion, slowly forgetting about the room and t
he dancers and the music until it’s just Jackson and me and his lips and my lips. His hand slides down between us, reaches the edge of my short dress, and pulls up.
“Whoa, hey.”
His fingers slide up my leg and brush over my panties.
“Hey!” I push him away from me.
“Don’t worry, bunny,” he says with a smile. “Nobody’s gonna see.” He covers me with his body, and his hand is back there, rubbing against—
“I said stop!” I shove harder this time, and he stumbles away from me. He stands there, breathing hard and looking confused. Maybe he’s had too much to drink and doesn’t know what he’s doing. Maybe we both need to find a balcony and get some air.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, stepping closer to run a hand down my arm. I look around to see if anyone noticed his gigantic inappropriateness a moment ago. Apparently not. “Don’t worry, Livi,” he says, his confusion replaced with a knowing smile. “It’s dark in here. You don’t have to worry about anyone seeing.” And then he’s smothering me, both hands gripping my thighs, his hot breath in my ear as he says, “Or we could find a bedroom if you want to—”
“STOP! Get OFF me!” I push as hard as if my life depends upon it. Jackson stumbles backwards into a small glass table standing against the wall. He goes down along with the table and the expensive-looking ceramic bowl that was sitting on top of it. Glass shatters and someone screams and Jackson’s on the floor and everyone’s staring at us and the music pounds but no one’s dancing and Jackson’s yelling obscenities and I’m shaking and shocked and scared and …
I run. Through the people and out of the room and up some stairs and into a bathroom. I slam the door shut and lean against it, breathing hard. What did I just do? What did he just do? How dare he think he could touch me like that? Perhaps I gave him the wrong signals, but he should have backed off after I first pushed him away. He should have. This isn’t my fault.
The Trouble with Flirting Page 12