Friday 23 October

I'm going to kill Trunks.

I know I've said that before. I've said it many, many times over the years. But this time I mean it.

Trunks has been completely insufferable since he turned eighteen. I mean, this happens every year. He's almost a year and a half older than me, so there are always a few magical, wonderful months in which he's two years older than me, and his usual smug-and-superior routine ends up magnified. But with him being eighteen, it's gotten so much worse.

Like tonight. Dia's jerky-manufacturing parents were out of town on what she referred to as a "meat retreat"—I ignored the comments of that perverted voice in my head, the one that sounds like Trunks—so she was hosting a party at her house. As opposed to Capsule Corp, which is more of a multi-part compound than a single house, Dia lives in what you'd call more of a standard mansion. Large atrium, huge open spaces, chandelier in the main corridor, generally a perfect space for a large party. Whenever she gets the place to herself (which is pretty often), she clears out anything that's easily breakable, rearranges the furniture, and hosts a more-or-less open party.

Honestly, after yesterday, I had no desire to see either Trunks or Ava, and considering that they're probably Dia's two best friends, I knew they would be at the party. So I probably wouldn't have even gone, except that Dia made a point of making sure I'd be there during lit class today. When I told her I wasn't in much of a partying mood, and that Trunks would be there whether or not I was there, she said, "Yes, but you are my friend too, and so help me if you aren't there I'm going to see to it that you regret it." And while Dia may be short and skinny and lacking in the super-strength department, the girl is creative. The last thing I needed was, say, a rabid gerbil stuffed into my locker, ready to launch itself onto my face the next time I had to go retrieve a textbook.

Again. I kind of get why Nao says she comes off as a bitch.

So, under a vague yet somehow terrifying threat, I ended up at Dia's party. My attempts to get Nao to come along were, of course, in vain, and since I still wasn't really speaking to Trunks, I went home after school and showed up at Dia's place a little after nine o'clock.

It was already pretty crowded by the time I got there. Dia, hyper-social creature that she is, was playing hostess, flitting around the room and making a point of talking to everyone there. She'd apparently decided to dye her hair purple—not that same pale lavender that Trunks has, but a really electric purple that can't possibly occur in nature—and I saw her talking to this tall, good-looking guy in a black t-shirt that looked vaguely familiar. I was watching the guy, trying to figure out where the hell I'd seen him, when Kato came up to me and handed me a can.

Kato, unlike Dia, is not a social butterfly. Sure, he's not a sociophobe like Nao, but he doesn't have a ton of patience for the vapid, bubbly girls that seem to populate the better part of Dia's greater social circle. So it's not uncommon for us to spend large chunks of these parties hanging out, talking about school or cars or martial arts or whatever, while his girlfriend and my boyfriend wander around doing the socialite-in-training thing.

Guess it comes with the territory of respectively dating an impulsive, irresponsible heir and an impulsive, irresponsible heiress.

I opened up the can—soda, of course—as Kato began sipping on his beer. We talked for a few minutes, hanging back by the snack table, before I finally mustered up the guts to ask if he'd seen Addo around.

"No," Kato said with a frown. "He's been pretty distant the last few days, actually. You know what's up with him?" I really didn't want to get into why Addo would be going out of his way to avoid Trunks, so I responded with a shrug. Since Kato's known me long enough to realize that, when I'm being noncommittal, I'm probably hiding something—again, I am almost as lousy a liar as my dad—he frowned at me and asked again. Luckily, before we could get into it, Dia interrupted us.

She came up behind Kato and slid her arms around his waist. She then peaked out from behind him and said hello. It's only when she waggled her eyebrows at me that I saw that she had a brand new eyebrow piercing.

I rolled my eyes at her. "Didn't you already have enough metal in your face?"

Dia didn't say anything. Instead, she untangled herself from Kato, stepped aside, and stuck her tongue out at me, revealing a shiny new metal barbell going straight through it.

"What the hell are you going to do with a tongue ring?"

Dia winked. "Ask Kato."

I set my half-full soda can on a nearby table, shaking my head at Dia's maniacal grin and Kato's smirk. "You're both perverts."

"Yeah," Dia said, "tell me something I don't know." She put her hands on her hips. "Speaking of, where's your worse half?"

I narrowed my eyes at the mention of my asstarded boyfriend. "Fuck if I know. Around somewhere. We didn't come together."

"Oh," she pouted. "You fighting again?"

My glare deepened. "The fuck do you mean again?"

"Like this is news," she said with a world-weary sigh. "You guys fight all the time."

Kato must have picked up on my discomfort and, thankfully, butt in. "Uh, Dia, new topic of conversation?"

"Alright, alright," she said to her boyfriend before looking back to me. "Hey, is your buddy Nao around?"

"Naw, this isn't really his scene." Then I paused for a minute, realized that she'd actually gotten his name right, and of course made a comment about it.

Dia rolled her eyes at me. "Of course I know his name."

"Then why did you keep messing it up?"

She shrugged. "He crinkles up his nose when he gets annoyed. It's funny." A loud clang from the other end of the room suddenly grabbed our attention. The three of us looked toward the far corner and saw two very confused, half-naked girls standing beside a knocked-over floor lamp.

"Oh, damnit," Dia huffed out. "I'd better go get Mela and Laddi away from the vodka before they end up doing some serious property damage." She turned to the two senior girls and shouted across the room to them, "Hey, you dumb whores! Get your pants back on!" And off stomped the tiny party referee.

Kato and I both stared on as Dia righted the floor lamp, then forcibly shoved Laddi's legs back into her jeans. I laughed, and looked to my right to see a goofy grin on Kato's face.

"I'm going to marry that girl," Kato said.

I smiled back at him. "Whatever you say, big guy." He walked off to help Mela back into her black pants—which, by the way, were so tight I think she actually looked more clothed in just her underwear—then decided to drag Dia off for a wholly inappropriate (if kind of cute) public display of affection.

I, meanwhile, felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see none other than Ava standing there, smelling of alcohol and bearing a thoroughly glazed-over expression.

I glowered at her, hoping to make it clear just how upset I was about the kissing stunt she pulled at school. "What do you want?"

She grinned and leaned toward me, treating me to the lovely bouquet that can only come from the combination of very expensive perfume and very cheap alcohol. "I just wanted to thank you again for helping me out yesterday."

"You've already thanked me more than enough."

"Oh, come on," she said, slipping her arms around my waist, much as Dia had done to Kato a few minutes earlier. "I'll make it worth your while, promise."

"Aaaaand we're done here," I said, peeling her off me like used gym sock (notwithstanding the fact that I actually prefer the smell of dirty gym socks to that godawful perfume). "I'll catch you later." Then, mercifully, I caught sight of Trunks sitting on one of the couches near the middle of Dia's massive living room. Since Trunks at the worst of times is still better company than Ava at the best of times, I decided to take refuge with my boyfriend as a (half-) human shield.

It was a matter of seconds before I slid into the empty seat next to Trunks. "Hey," I said.

Trunks raised an eyebrow at me over his beer bottle. "I thought we were fighting."

"We are. But I needed to get away from Ava."

"Hitting on you again?" He took another swig of his drink.

I nodded. "It's so fucking annoying."

He snorted. Then he said, "Please. You like it."

I took a few seconds to process his remark. "What?"

"I said, you like it. You like it when Ava flirts with you."

I immediately felt another Trunks Headache coming on. "Yes, that must be it. Despite the fact that I am in a relationship and not attracted to women, I like being constantly hit on by a crazy girl."

"I'm not saying you want to do anything with her. But being picked up is flattering. That's why you encourage it."

"Encourage it? How the hell do I encourage it?"

"You let her hit on you. You're actually pretty nice to her." Then he asked, "Have you ever really told her off?"

"No, because I don't want to be a jerk!"

"Uh huh, sure." Like it was beyond him why I wouldn't go out of my way to hurt this girl's feelings.

"Look," I said, "considering the way you're constantly teasing Addo—"

"Addo doesn't like me," Trunks cut me off. "And he doesn't hit on me."

It was my turn to snort. "Except when you were fucking him."

"Exactly. It was just that. Fucking."

The pounding in my skull intensified. "So tell me why he isn't here."

"I dunno, it's Addo." He didn't look at me as he downed the last of his beer. "There's a good chance he's out getting his ass pounded by someone twice his age in the back room of a club."

I gaped at him. "You're a complete asshole. You do know that, right?"

He reached for another beer bottle on the table and opened it up with his teeth. "Maybe," he said, spitting the bottlecap into his palm, "but I'm an asshole with better things to do than sit here and listen to another tirade." Then, just like he said, he got up and walked away.

I let my face fall into my hands. I was rubbing my eyes, trying to relieve the worst of the pressure in my head, when I heard a deep, unfamiliar male voice address me.

"You look like you could use a drink."

I looked up to see the good-looking stranger that Dia had been speaking to. He was even cuter up close—his black t-shirt cut against his tanned skin, just as his black hair contrasted with bright, green eyes. I didn't realize I'd been staring until he said, with a soft laugh, "I asked if you wanted a drink."

"Uh..." came my eloquent response. Finally, I shook my head and said, no thanks, I don't really drink.

He grinned. "Me neither." He showed me the can in his hand—it was a cola. "I'll get you a soda." True to his word, he came back seconds later with another soda.

"Uh, thanks." I stood and took the can from him. I bit my lip before I realized I was, once again, staring at him like an idiot. I shook my head again and attempted a recovery. "I'm Goten, by the way."

"Keimin," he said with a smile. It should be noted, for the record, that he had a very nice smile. "Nice to meet you."

I opened up the can and took a sip. Then, because I am apparently incapable of normal social interaction, I blurted out, "You look really familiar."

He laughed. "I thought I was trying to pick you up."

"It's not a pickup line," I insisted. "It's just that I don't think I've seen you around school."

"That's because I live in North City." He shrugged one shoulder. "Were you at that big party at last week? The one at Oasis?"

"Were you there?"

"I'm in the band that played that gig. I'm the drummer."

"Oh, right." I nodded, then said with my usual social grace, "I didn't recognize you with your shirt on."

He laughed again, then fell quiet. We stood there in silence for a few seconds. Just as I was starting to wonder why he was still talking to me, even though I was acting like a total freak, he asked, "So, can I get your number?"

"Well," I said, setting down my second half-full soda can of the evening, "I'm kind of dating someone."

"Oh," he said. He looked disappointed. "Mind if I ask who?"

"The guy that hired you, actually."

"Guy with the purple hair?" He raised an eyebrow at me. "The one hitting on the redhead on the other side of the room?"

I turned around to see what he was talking about. Indeed, a very drunk Mela was hanging over my rather less drunk boyfriend. He looked all to happy to be her (half-) human support beam.

I felt my recently-faded Trunks Headache come back with a vengeance. "Yeah. That would be the jerk I'm dating."

"Uh huh. Well," he said as he pulled a pen out of his pocket, "at least he's hot." He grabbed a napkin and jotted something down on it, then handed it to me. "Look, give me a call if you change your mind, okay?" I slipped the paper into my pocket as he retreated into the growing crowd of drunk teenagers.

I don't know why I didn't just walk out right then. I don't know why I sat back down on the couch and proceeded to stare at Trunks shamelessly flirting with (and occasionally groping) his wasted classmate. I don't know why I didn't throw away Keimin's number. And I definitely couldn't tell you why I decided not to leave the party, even when Ava sat down next to me.

So there I was. Sitting on the couch at Dia's house, after Trunks vanished on me, with Ava hitting on me as Dia and Kato made out under one of tables. Just like last December.

Except this time I knew where Trunks was. I knew that Ava wasn't going to let up any time soon. And I had the number of a very attractive teenage drummer in my jeans pocket.

I'll get around to throwing it out. Really.