Beginnings – Prompt 001
November 1, 1996
I met a boy last night
Not that anything's going to come of it – I'm not ready – but I did.
Angel and I ended up throwing that massive party I was talking about. It was here, though, not at her place… Luke's started sculking around (if that's the right term… just being generally lurk-y and stalker-ish) again. He'd just use a party as another excuse to cause a big scene and upset her.
So we moved the party to my place.
And, even with all the craziness of planning a party and stupid lurking ex-boyfriends, Angel came through with that gorgeous red Renaissance costume she promised me. I think she may have even managed to make it historically accurate. Or a reasonable approximation, anyway. (I only really got it for the party… she took it away right after, cuz apparently I "can't have nice things" because I'll "just wreck them".) All I know is that it was gorgeous and it gave even me cleavage.
Sorry – The Boy.
One would think that after keeping a diary since she was 12, Mimi Marquez would learn to keep on track.
One would be wrong.
Anyway, the party ended up turning into half a Halloween party and half a "screw you, Benny, for having a wife and not leaving her for me" party. (I know it's been a month. I'm handling it… I swear.)
And half a karaoke party.
There was a lot of liquor. That's my only excuse, really. It was eleven o'clock and I was busy belting out "I Will Survive" and downing shots of sambuca between every verse. Sambuca chased by orange pop tastes like Halloween. (See? Being all liquored up is truly the only excuse for that kind of behaviour.)
And that was when I realized that the crazy, loud pounding I had been hearing was not, in fact, part of the music. It was, in fact, someone knocking (to understate it terribly) on my apartment door. So, I did the only thing that made sense at the time.
I screamed "Screw you, Benny!", did one last shot and stumbled over to open the door.
Behind the door was a video camera, trained directly on my boobs. And behind the video camera was The Boy.
His name's Mark. He's got blonde hair, blue eyes… and thick, black-rimmed glasses and this stripe-y scarf. He's sort of dorky as hell. He never learned my name.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. At that point, all I was really aware of was the video camera, and a quiet voice mumbling something along the lines of "Close on the breasts belonging to the beautiful stranger from downstairs. Um… of course, your humble filmmaker didn't mean for the shot to be so close. She just took him by surprise." And at that point his eyes met mine. "Hi. I'm Mark."
To which I responded, either drunkenly or dimly (lord knows I'm both most of the time), "Hi! Whose friend are you? Do you want a drink? We've got lots of beer! And… uh… other stuff, if you want something stronger. I've been drinking sambuca!" I think I may have thought I was being sexy. Or something.
He may have thought that too. He turned bright red and forced out "I… uh… I'm from upstairs. We just… uh… could you guys… uh… be a little quieter, maybe?" (The "uh"s are arbitrarily added by me, of course, but, really, there were about that many.)
By that point, I had almost forgotten I had neighbours and his nervous awkwardness in asking me to shut up made me feel a little guilty. So, I opened by eyes real wide, put on my innocent face and went "Oh Dios, are we really being too loud?"
I wouldn't think he could get more flustered. But I think the innocent face did him in. He lowered the camera, tugged on his hair and sort of squinted at me with one eye. "Uh, no… We just… My roommate's sick and he's got to sleep. He's being cranky."
He was really cute. (Or maybe just really different from Benny. To be honest. Looking back in a sober light.) So I winked at him – probably over-winked, to be honest… again – and screamed through the open door "No more karaoke, guys, and turn the music down! There's sick people upstairs!"
Everyone listened. Like they do. And then I grinned at Mark and asked him again if he wanted a drink.
Experience has shown that boys do not resist for long when it comes to me.
Granted, Mark is much nicer than most guys are when it comes to me. (I can recognize my mistakes now, I'm becoming a grown-up.)
And, something I don't think I've ever written in a diary of mine before, we did not kiss.
I just got him drunk and we talked all night. I swear to god, I ended up sitting on the stairs outside my apartment (outside my own party!) talking to a geeky blonde kid about high school, video making, dancing, what we wanted to be when we grew up. All night. Like until the sun came up.
And then he realized that he'd left his sick roommate alone all night (not to mention that we were both totally gone on sambuca – I think he secretly wanted to throw up then lie down) and he hugged me and then ran off upstairs.
And then I went back into my party and Angel immediately confiscated my dress because I was going to wreck it. (Like I said.)
Anyway – nothing's going to come of it. Not now. I'm still kind of… broken, I think. But… maybe I'll go upstairs one day and seduce him like crazy and we'll get together. Or maybe we'll be friends or…
Anyway. The thing is, for one night, I thought about a guy other than Benny. And that's a start, isn't it?
Gotta run. Angel's here.
Author's Note: First: Nothing's mine, nor will be. No matter how hard I wish.
And though this is the piece for the "beginnings" prompt at rent100, it's also an adaptation of an event that's going to occur in "She's Made Her Mark". (When I have time to get around to finishing that one… Aye.)