Setup

Stanley

I wasn't sure what I expected from a college party, probably loud music, dancing bodies, and the kind of chaos I usually see in movies.

But honestly, this was worse.

The party was in full swing. People were in the living room, on the stairs, spilling out into the backyard. All dancing, drinking, smoking…and many were even making out right there in public.

Like, what kind of courage did they have to be able to do that? Weren’t they ashamed, nervous, creeped out by the fact that literally dozens of people were watching them?

Like seriously. It was this sort of stuff that made me hate parties and if you weren't like them you became the outcast, a complete weirdo.

But this wasn’t about my liking or hate.

This was about proving a point.

I adjusted the collar of the black shirt I was wearing, the one my stalker had told me to try on in the store but not to wear to the party.

I’d refused her elaborate gift of the free clothes, but still used my savings to buy it anyway.

Call it rebellion. Call it stupid. I just didn’t want a stranger thinking she could control every step I took.

“Hey, Stanley! You made it!”

Julian’s voice broke through my thoughts as he waved me over, already half-drunk and grinning from ear to ear.

He didn’t look like a birthday boy at all. Hell, he could easily pass as a mentally retarded drunkard, but then again, this wasn't how I'd pictured a birthday party either.

So...

“Yeah, well… I didn’t really have a choice,” I muttered as we made our way deeper inside.

The lights grew dim, the music throbbing in the background, smooth jazz. This wasn’t my first time at Julian’s house, but I was still surprised every damn time.

Julian was born with what they called a golden spoon. His parents worked for the government, and hence were filthy rich, but it also meant they were always out, giving him the opportunity to throw as many parties as he liked, bring as many ladies as he wanred and paracticall everything else I couldn't do.

We were complete opposites, but somehow, that’s what made us fit so well.

As we walked, a girl with fiery red lips flashed a smile at me and my stomach flipped.

I wasn’t used to girls looking at me, let alone smiling. My skin turned warm from the nerves, but I quickly tried to shake it off.

Julian led me toward the bar, where a few familiar faces from campus were already making themselves at home.

I kept to myself, nursing my drink like it was a lifeline, while he dragged me into conversation after conversation I couldn’t care less about.

At a point I got tired, told him I was going to get a drink, then made my way to the kitchen.

There was no bartender or anything, just a sticky table of cans, half-empty bottles, and a dozen cups.

I poured myself a drink, took a cautious sip and leaned against the wall, letting the crowd move around me.

“Hey.”

I turned my head and met the same girl from earlier.

She was pretty, with long dark hair, big dopey eyes like mine, and had a red lipstick on which made her look so damn sexy.

“You’re not dancing,” she said.

“Not really my thing.”

“Then what is your thing?”

“Standing here and drinking."

She laughed, sliding into the space beside me like she’d been invited. Her perfume was sweet, vanilla with something sharper underneath.

“I’m Kara,” she said, holding out her cup like a toast.

“Stanley.”

We chatted about the usual party small talks, school, classes, professors who shouldn’t be allowed to teach. She had an easy smile, and when she leaned in, her hand brushed my arm like it was an accident.

“You look hot in that shirt,” she muttered.

I almost choked on my drink, not in the least bit expecting a compliment from a girl this beautiful.

Especially not one that involved putting me and the word 'hot' in the same sentence.

After calming down a bit, I looked up to see her staring at me like she was expecting some sort of reply.

I coughed awkwardly, my face still red as a tomato. “Thanks.”

“Let me get you another,” she added, taking the cup from my hand before I could argue.

She disappeared into the kitchen. When she came back, a new cup was in her hand, fizzing slightly.

I didn’t think much of it.

We talked more. Or rather, she talked, and I listened, but somewhere in the middle of her story about a crazy ex, my body started feeling weird.

Stiff.

“Too loud here,” she said, touching my shoulder again. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

Before I knew it, she was leading me through the living room, past a couple making out on the stairs and up to the second floor.

When we reached a hallway, she opened a door at the end and slipped inside.

It was quieter here, darker too, the only source of light being a small lamp on the dresser.

“Sit,” she said, nudging me toward the bed.

I sat and she followed beside me, close enough that our knees touched. Her hand rested on my chest for a moment, right over the shirt buttons.

“Black looks good on you,” she murmured,

I tried to push her back, but my body felt stiff and hot, like a million fire ants were dancing on it.

She pushed me gently back, her knee sliding between my legs.

"Relax," she whispered, her fingers brushing the hem of my shirt. "We don’t have to do anything you don’t want."

Her touch sent a jolt of something I couldn't quite place. I frowned, realisation setting in. "What the hell did you put in that drink?" I asked, trying to steady myself, but my words came out a little slurred.

She smiled, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "It’s just a little something to help you relax. Trust me. You’re gonna like this."

Her hands kept roaming my body, slowly opening my shirt’s buttons, and I could do nothing about it.

The heat under my skin was making it hard to think straight, and her perfume was everywhere.

I needed her, I needed to quench this heat.

But at that moment,

Click.

A sharp sound cut through the silence of the room and both of us froze.

Another click.

Our heads snapped toward the window, and we saw her.

A girl that looked no more than sixteen was sitting casually on the window sill. Her pink hair was tied in two ponytails and big blue eyes staring at us in amusement.

A camera hung from her neck, the lens still pointed in our direction, and in her lap was a bag of...popcorn? She was eating it one slow handful at a time, like she was watching a late-night movie.

“Wow,” she muttered, her mouth full and her voice dripping with amusement. “This is interesting. Lissa is so gonna freak out.”

Her tone then shifted completely to something deeper, harsher, like another voice coming from the same mouth. “Yeah, Nessa, it’ll be so much fun to watch.”

The hairs on my neck stood up.

Who was this creep?

There was no way she’d been in the room this whole time. I’d swear on my life she wasn’t there when I walked in, yet there was also no way she'd climbed up. We were on the second floor for crying out loud.

Kara stiffened beside me. The second she got a good look at the pink-hair, she was up, scrambling for the door.

She didn’t make it though.

The pink-haired girl moved so fast it was a blur. One second she was on the window, the next she was across the room, a fist tangled in Kara’s hair.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked, her tone almost sing-song, except for the cold edge underneath. “You still have a lot of explaining to do, missy.”

Kara let out a sharp scream, trying to twist away, but her grip only tightened.

She pulled out her phone with her free hand, tapping at the screen like she had all the time in the world.

Her smile only widened as she typed.

“Lissa is so gonna flip.”