Dedicated to MakiTheFortunate

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. Ear-splitting music was blasting without caution and I could feel a looming headache on its way. Although I liked the song playing, I didn't like the way the bass thumped in line with my heartbeat and filled my body with music.

Me coming to Cole's party was a bad idea. I had been sitting in the kitchen ever since I'd arrived two hours ago, and no, I didn't find it fun. It was at that point I realized my addition to the party was as good as useless, and my curiosity didn't lead me to some kind of adventure.

Standing from the stool, I picked a clean cup from the counter and fetched water from the tap. After drinking and dropping the cup in the sink, I was surprised to see a lanky, brown-haired boy approaching me. He looked older than me and wasn't lacking in the looks department, but I couldn't help but notice how sketchy he acted.

His eyes skimmed the environment we were in before resting on me. "Hey."

"Uh... hi, can I help you with something?" I asked.

He ran a hand through his messy hair and gave a small wink. "What's a pretty girl like you doing all alone?"

I felt he was trying to use the 'charm' he thought he had, but it was a total turnoff.

"Standing," I stated the obvious.

Ignoring my jab, he continued. "What's your name, sexy lady?"

Sexy lady?

"Daesyn," I muttered.

"Nice name."

I tried to hide my smile as I thought of a quick reply. Toying with guys like Mr. sexy lady seemed fun, and I had several responses for these pickup lines. When I read them, it bored me, but it seemed my hard work was coming in handy.

"Thanks, I got it for my birthday," I said. "It's been nice chatting with you but I have to go."

He leaned forward. "I lost my number, can I have yours?"

I winced at his poor attempt in flirting, muttering a '911' before leaving the kitchen to begin my search for Cole.

Walking into the living room, I groaned in annoyance as my body came in contact with a group of sweaty teenagers doing 'the deed' on the wide makeshift dance floor.

The living room—with the lack of furniture—looked like a club, and the strobe lights which swirled an array of pinks, blues, and greens didn't help to tone down the vibes.

Looking for Cole in his house wasn't as easy as it sounded.

I sang a small Hallelujah song when I finally spotted him sitting beside a petite girl on the black couch. From where I was stood, he looked like he was shamelessly flirting with her and I resisted the urge to gag.

"Hey." I tapped his shoulders in annoyance when I got to where he was sitting, and he turned to me. "Can we talk for a second?"

He returned his attention to the brunette. "Excuse me."

When the girl giggled and blew a kiss to Cole, I shook my head in amusement. Cole knew how to work his charm, and I was a hundred percent sure if things hadn't turned out the way they did, I would've been one of his girls.

He finally gestured towards an isolated part of the living room and I followed behind, awkwardly shoving and pushing people out of my way.

"I want to go home," I said.

"Aren't you enjoying the party, Liebling?"

I refrained from glaring at him when he called me that. The stupid name he used in the morning made my heart skip a bit. Look where I ended up.

There was nothing special about his party, except maybe the decorations, but it was like a typical high school party. I wrinkled my nose at the sight of a couple making out on his couch.

Although I made a mistake, I was never coming back to Cole's party or house.

When I had arrived, he told me to help myself with drinks and wait for him in the kitchen where I was foolishly sat for two hours. He never bothered to check up on me and I eventually realized I was just a great addition to the 'we love Cole Adler' fan club.

"The party is nice," I finally said. "I just have a mild headache and my mum is expecting me."

He nodded. "I'm sorry, I can't take you home. I still have things to do."

I felt like slapping him. He knew I couldn't call a taxi. It was almost midnight and taxis stopped working by 9 PM. But really, what was I expecting? I was such a fool for believing him.

"Yeah, it's no problem." I forced a smile. "I'll catch a ride from one of my friends."

"Okay then, see you on Monday." He waved and hurried past me.

I sighed. Who could I ask to take me home?

The only reason I found it hard to make friends was that most of the students in my school went to middle school together, and they knew about Father's death. Over the years, I finally understood that those people either pitied me or tried to show some form of sympathy.

I hated pity. I hated sympathy.

Heaving a sigh, I strolled back into the furnished kitchen—glad the creepy dude from earlier was no longer in sight before grabbing my thin jacket from the counter.

Passing through the door of the massive house, I felt the cold wind blow against me and I deeply inhaled the aroma of the earth—a complete contrast to the smell of weed, alcohol, and sweat in the house—before cursing silently as the realization of not having a ride hit me.

So much for trusting Cole.

Deep in thought, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going until I bumped into something. More like a person.

"Ow," a familiar voice called. It was Emery.

Emery Jensen, like Cole, was one of the prettiest girls at school with big blue eyes and blonde hair always styled to perfection. She was popular, not the mean girl popular, but was always with her group of friends.

I'd say I never had a reason to talk to her, but we had been talking a lot since the beginning of the week.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," I apologized. "I didn't see you coming."

She waved me off, rubbing her forehead with her other hand. "Don't worry about it."

"Sorry again," I added.

She nodded, peering at me intently before snapping her fingers. "Are you going on the field trip on Monday?"

"Uh, what field trip?" I asked.

"It's not really a field trip," she explained. "We're going to the museum."

"Who's we?" I knew nothing about going to the Museum.

"We're in the same English class, Daesyn." Emery frowned. "Didn't you hear Ms. Paula talking about it last week?"

"We're in the same English class?"

That was exactly where my week's conversation with Emery came in. She'd been acting weird throughout. It was as if a switch went off in her head, and suddenly, she was interested in my life.

I didn't have a problem hanging out with her, since I needed a friend in my life, but Emery was suspicious. If she didn't wave at me during lunch, she made it her priority to greet me at my locker every morning.

Now, Emery didn't attend the same middle school as me and the other students but I believed she had an ulterior motive.

Or maybe I was being paranoid and my lack of friends was getting to my head.

As if sensing my surprise, she talked, waving her hands frantically. "It's not like that. I'm not stalking you at all, I see you in the classroom."

I found the situation amusing because I didn't know we had classes together, but then again when had I ever paid attention to people?

"I'm not going," I said. "How about you?"

"I'm not going either," she responded.

I nodded, looking around awkwardly. "So, what are you doing here?"

"Uh... I got into an argument with my brother, and I wanted to get away from my house, I guess." Looking down at her soccer jersey, I realized she wasn't dressed for a party, so maybe she did argue with her brother. "You?"

"Just chilling here and there," I replied.

She crossed her arms. "Hm."

"Yeah." I mean, what else was I supposed to say to her? Nice shoes?

"Well, see you at school." She waved and turned to leave.

"Yeah, see you," I muttered with a small smile.

"Daesyn?"

Seems like she wasn't done talking.

"Yes?"

"Do you have a ride home?" she asked. I shook my head.

"Come on." She gestured with her hands. "I'll drop you off."

"You will?"

"Sure," she said with a nod. "Come with me."

After my internal battle, to which I concluded that Emery genuinely wanted to become friends with me, I gave her the directions to my house as we walked to her car. We didn't talk much during the ride since Justin Bieber's sorry played non-stop. I had the urge to yell at her to change the stupid song, but theoretically speaking, I was a beggar with no choice.

"Are you okay?" Emery asked when we reached my house.

"I'm good," I replied, glad I was moments away from ditching JB.

Licking her lips, she tapped her manicured fingers on the steering wheel. "Are you free tomorrow?"

I didn't know if I should try to act cool by lying about my plans or sound pathetic by saying the truth. "Well, I have to pick my car from the mechanic," I said. "But besides that, I have nothing to do."

"Do you want to come with me to the mall?" she asked softly.

Weird. Weird. Weird.

Why did Emery Jensen want me to come to the mall with her? Instead of asking her that question, I gave a small shrug in response.

"Good." She stretched her iPhone towards me. "Let's exchange numbers. I'll text you the address of my house."

Collecting her phone, I saved my number before giving it back to her and unbuckling my seat belt.

"Bye, Daesyn," she said as I made my way out of the car.

"See you tomorrow." I waved back, watching her car disappear into the distance.

Heaving a sigh, I returned my attention to the deserted building and walked to the porch of the house. I took the key from under the flowerpot and opened the door.

Turning on the lights, the familiar black couches and white curtains came into view along with the tiled floors, flat-screen television, and glass tables. Old picture frames of my parents and I decorated the white walls, and I took my time admiring them.

My favorite was the last one mum and I took with Father, a year before his death. It was on Christmas eve, and we'd traveled to Father's hometown in Ireland. It weirded me out since it was my first-time leaving Hillwood, but I survived. Much to my relief.

I honestly couldn't remember much, seeing as I didn't pay attention to anything except the food. But I did remember where the picture was taken; outside grandpa's house. Father told me grandma kicked the bucket years before my birth, but grandpa Cooper died some months after that Christmas. We weren't that close, but I felt bad when he died.

He was the wise man who always said, 'Blessed are curious, for they shall have adventures.'

My stomach growled in hunger—diverting my attention away from the photos—and I sighed in exhaustion. Picking a glass of water, I checked my phone for any new messages as I made my way up the stairs.

No messages, as usual.

-

I'm super new to this whole writing stuff but with a bit of luck, I'll pick it up quickly.

P.S: don't forget to vote :)