I stared into the red solo cup I held in my hands entranced with the way the strobing lights of the living room reflected off the whiskey. The music was pulsing throughout the house and the floor was vibrating with all the jumping and excitement from the living room that had turned into an impromptu dance floor. I could feel my heart beating in time with the bass of the EDM track blasting from the speakers. It was easy for me to forget, in that moment, that I was in a new town, in a new school, in a new home.
My parents had opened their own dentistry in Bristol, 120 miles away from my friends and life in London. We had lived 16 years in a small suburb with a two-car garage and packed it all up in one day to move to a cramped apartment with terrible Wi-Fi. I had spent the summer cooped up in my room devoting myself to my books and cuddling up with my orange Persian, Crookshanks. I only left the apartment to occasionally eat out at a restaurant or to go grocery shopping.
School had crept up fast, and before I knew it my mother was fussing about back to school shopping and lectures about "putting myself out there and making new friends." I missed my best friend, Harry, who I skyped every Friday, and I missed the small park behind my old house that I used to play hide and seek in and tag with my friends when I was younger. I missed the quaint bookshop near my old school that carried books that smelled like dust and the elderly woman that owned the shop who served me tea while I curled up in an old armchair reading in the dim yellow light of the chandelier.
It was already the first week of school and I had never felt so alone, even surrounded by so many people. The principal, Ms. McGonagall, had assigned Ginny Weasley, captain of the girls' lacrosse team, to show me around and make sure I had somebody to sit by at lunch. My day ended with an invitation to a house party and the memory of an awkward lunch experience where I ate quietly next to Ginny, Lavender, and Padma and listened to how they lost their virginities.
"You'll make friends there," my mother had said. "I met some of my best friends at parties. You can't spend your whole life locked in your room." I instantly regretted telling my parents about the party. They went as far as to drop me off, telling me to have fun and make questionable choices.
Ginny had waved at me when we locked eyes, but didn't wander over the wall I was leaning against. She was dancing with a boy named Dean, who held onto Ginny's hips and was grinding against her inner thigh. A boy named Neville had attempted small talk with me when I first arrived, but he was further down the hall chatting with my Chemistry lab partner, Luna.
It was nearing one in the morning and the only thing I had accomplished was taking a few sips of bitter tasting alcohol and resisting the urge to pee in fear of encountering one of the many couples that were using the bathroom for quick sex. I checked my phone for hundredth time, hoping for a message from my father saying it was time to come home, but there was no message, and my mother had made it clear I had to be at the party until at least 2:30.
I pushed up from against the wall and wandered down the hall leisurely as I looked at photographs. The house belonged to the parents of a boy named Draco, a posh twat that played rugby and bragged about his material wealth. The wall was full of family portraits and school pictures throughout Draco's youth. A school picture from the sixth grade showed a white blond angel with a missing tooth on the left side of his smile, but the next year's photo was of a stone-cold boy glaring into the camera lens. I vaguely wondered what had changed that summer, but was interrupted by a violent shove that caused me to fall forwards to the ground and spill my drink. Draco's entourage member #1, a girl with an upturned nose and long dark hair, smirked as she pulled a trashed Draco down the hall into what I assumed was a bedroom.
Neville handed his drink to Luna and rushed to help me up. "I swear I didn't notice you were falling," he slurred. "I would've caught you if I noticed."
"It's fine Neville, I must've tripped." I said lamely before I rushed into the bathroom and locked the door.
I decided against using the loo due to the presence of a red headed boy passed out in the tub and instead splashed cool water on my face. My white shirt was soaked exposing my black bra and the few small freckles on my chest. The counter was littered with cocaine residue and condom wrappers and there was writing on the mirror with maroon lipstick that read "Lavender takes it two at a time" and a couple of crude drawings of penises.
The whiskey on my shirt was turning the stark white fabric into a light brownish stain. I grabbed the hand towel and dampened it under the tap before removing my shirt to rub out the liquor before it became permanent. When I put the shirt back on the area of see-through cloth had spread and the entirety of my chest was visible from my naval to the straps of my bra. I stared at my reflection, marred by the harsh lines of a shaft, and mustered up the courage to walk out of the house to the street where I could call my father. I peered out of the bathroom into an empty hall. The music was still ear-splitting and a flutter of commotion could be distinguished from the electronic beats with some notes of drunken yelling and the shattering of glass bottle onto wooden floors.
I wandered into the living room where Ginny was still dancing and a pair of boys were fighting. A broken bottle of vodka laid beneath the face of a boy with red hair, the dirty blond with the crooked nose was struggling to continue beating on the boy on the floor, but a group of Rugby boys were pulling him up and attempting to restrain him.
"Not a party without a fight, huh?" I heard a voice behind me say. I turned to see a rangy orange-headed boy with a pale skin and a scattering of freckles over his face and neck. He looked at me with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes as his lips curved into an amused smirk. "Looking to get ravaged tonight? That's a lovely bra you've got. Very 'elderly-woman chic'."
I blushed so hard I could feel the embarrassment burn down my neck into my chest. I crossed my arms in front of my chest and shoved past drunken teens towards the front door. Boys cat-called and whistled at me. My eyes burned with rogue tears. I felt a tug on my wrist and was pulled backwards.
I turned around so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash and slapped the assailant with a crack I almost heard over the music. His cheek flushed red and he seemed to not notice my violent reaction as he unzipped his jacket and stripped it off.
"If you're going outside, you should cover up," he handed me his jacket with a smile. "You shouldn't let anyone see that beautiful chest but me." He winked and walked away, leaving me with a quickened pulse and the touch of soft leather in my hand.
I replayed the moment outside as I waited for my father to pick me up. I remembered the sparkle in his crystalline eyes and the warmth of his hand against the skin of my wrist. I blushed thinking about the wink and my reaction to it. My heart wasn't beating faster because of the wink. It was the adrenaline. It wasn't the wink at all.