Despite the loud music and myriad of noxious odours that swirled all around her almost visibly (and in the case of the cigarette smoke, it was quite visible, to the point of near-blinding her), Lydia was drooping lower in her seat by the minute, her blackened eyelids getting heavier as the alcohol began to shut her immobile body down. Just as she was about to drift off, completely, a figure manuvered through the throng of partiers and threw itself sharply into her awareness.
"Lydia?" The voice echoed between her ears, all other noise blackened out by this semi-familiar sound penetrating her senses and pulling her back into consciousness.
She blinked her eyes at the source of the voice, trying to clear away the blurry shapes that kept her from focusing on any one thing, and searching for the face that went with the voice.
"Lydia?" the voice said again, and this time, Lydia saw him.
Its owner was tall and thin, his usually slicked-back blond hair tied back in a loose pony-tail. His slight uni-brow had either been plucked or was covered up with make up, of which he was wearing a staggering amount. The giant glasses were absent from his face, which was clean-shaven and now made even more pale by white powder and the contrast of the dark red blood that stained his lips and flowed downward from their corners in two straight lines. His dark brown eyes had been disguised by pale blue contact lenses that reduced his pupils to tiny black dots in the centre of the chilly blue iris. His usual dull, earth-toned sweater vest-and-olive-drab-corduroy combination had been replaced by a Ricean Vampire-style purple and black velvet suit, complete with a lace cravat and a big, gaudy brooch pinned at his throat. She followed the many tiny buttons down the front of his embroidered waistcoat to his tight black velvet trousers, the bottom half of which were obscured by calf-hugging black boots that made him at least two inches taller. All in all, it was a very impressive metamorphosis. It made Lydia question whether or not she was actually awake, or perhaps if the punch had been spiked with more than just alcohol.
"Mr. Craven?" she asked dubiously, her voice high and squeaky with a mixture of underuse and surprise.
The man chuckled and extended his hand.
"Usually," he said, as Lydia raised her hand to take his. "But tonight, you may call me Lestat." He grinned to reveal two perfectly pointed canine teeth and kissed her hand, gently.
Lydia was dumbfounded. She would have sworn that the exchange at hand was not taking place at all, but for the bit of fake blood residue left on her hand from Mr. Cra--er, "Lestat"'s charming greeting.
"Not to sound rude," Lydia slurred, struggling to sit up straighter, "but what the hell are you doing here?"
Mr. Craven chuckled, not at all offended by his student's confusion.
"I was invited," he replied, simply. "Mitch invited me, and I accepted. I should probably be studying for my mid-term, but I figured 'What the hell? It's not every day you get invited to pretend you're a teenager again.' And in heels, as well," he added, gesturing to his shiny height-enhancing boots.
Lydia made a noise in her throat and rolled her eyes. "I can't wait to detach myself from the title of "teenager." I don't see why anyone fortunate enough to have escaped would ever want to go back to something as dull and demeaning as that. The boots are nice though," she added in her characteristically monotonous voice, as something of an afterthought.
"When you get to be my age and you realise what's really important in life, sometimes an escape is just what you need to keep your head straight. And thank you, but they're doing bad things to my back." Lydia could definitely understand both points. "What about you? You don't really seem the type to attend such a 'dull and demeaning' event."
Lydia sighed and explained her lot to Mr. Craven, who nodded, understandingly.
"So, you got completely smashed to teach them a lesson," he commented when she'd finished telling him about her parents and how they'd all but forced her to attend, with a note of amusement in his voice.
"I'm not -completely- smashed," Lydia said, giving the man a playful half-smile. "But yeah, basically. You drink anything?"
"Only blood," he said, his eyes twinkling merrily as he grinned toothily for emphasis. Lydia couldn't help but laugh at the terribly cheesy but oddly funny reply. "The various fumes are getting to me, though. I admit to not quite being myself."
Lydia gave him a quick once over, one eyebrow cocked slightly higher than the other that spoke for her.
Mr. Craven gave a hearty laugh and Lydia was once again amazed at how completely different this man looked from the boring substitute teacher she saw five days a week standing at the head of a classroom, scribbling messily all over the blackboard and casually handing out assignments like he didn't care at all whether or not he ever saw them completed...and he probably didn't. Why ever did she dislike him? The thought was entirely obscure to her as she sat staring at this beautiful creature, tarted up as he was...but it wasn't just the elaborate disguise that made him so appealing, all of a sudden, though that definitely helped. This guy was actually -fun-. Lydia could tell, or he wouldn't even be there in the first place. She suddenly felt very badly for every harsh feeling she'd had toward him, every time she thought herself thinking, "Man, this guy is a loser." She felt horrible for misjudging him, and vowed to herself that she would give him the chance he so obviously deserved.
Amber Rose's method was quickly becoming clear to Edward: she would introduce him to a person or a group, make sure he was settled (or so she thought) and leave. Edward pondered this pattern as he stood awkwardly in front of Bobbi, a tall, dark-skinned young woman with piercing green eyes and big teeth. She lacked the appropriate size of mouth to accommodate aforementioned choppers, and would have been very beautiful, even super model-worthy if not for this small cosmetic blunder. That Edward noticed how pretty she was at all nearly shocked him beyond speech, but then that isn't saying much of our quiet friend. For all his life, he'd seen mainly peoples' inner beauty, with a few exceptions (namely, Kim, and now Lydia). But tonight he could count on five or six, well, scissor blades the number of times he'd conciously found a girl particularly attractive...and he wasn't quite sure what to make of this discovery.
As Bobbi stood gabbing away, she held two cups of punch in her hands, one for herself and one for Edward who, for obvious reasons, could not hold it, himself. She graciously allowed him sips from "his" cup, now and then, at seemingly regulated intervals of about two or three per minute. Each sip he took of the strange fluid seemed to make him feel more and more at ease, though why he couldn't say. He'd wished the vampirettes would have offered him this drink, instead of blood. He would have given just about anything to feel at ease, then.
The punch tasted good with a slight tang that was not wholly unrecognizable, but neither was it particularly unpleasant. It was remnicient of the "lemonade" he'd been given to drink by Kim's father, only much less abrasive, more easily swallowed, and just plain yummier. He had no idea that the fruity concoction consisted of Hawaiian Punch, Sprite, and, most importantly, Skyy Vodka, nor did he realise that with every sip he took, he was becoming more and more intoxicated.
He was fully aware, however, that he felt warm and fuzzy all of a sudden, like he was gradually being enveloped in an invisible comfort blanket. Suddenly, he actually felt like he could -talk- to Bobbi, rather than just stare blankly at her eyes, her mouth...her chest.
"So, Edward, where on -Earth- did you find that awesome outfit?"
"I didn't find it," Edward replied earnestly, taking another sip of punch as it was offered. "My father made it for me a long time ago."
"Wow," she breathed, and Edward was certain he'd never before experienced such a superfluous usage of one word in a single evening. He smiled in reply and waited for her to ask the next question, as she was most certainly bursting with them. Everyone seemed to be, and in most cases Edward didn't mind. But what she asked next not only threw him off-guard, but made him uncomfortable, even through the warm refuge of his imaginary blanket.
"I think guys in lots of black leather are sexy," she said, her eyes becoming somehow darker and more captivating. Her voice seemed to have suddenly lowered at least an octave and her red lips were pulled into a seductive half-smile. "Wanna go screw?"
Edward blinked twice and snipped his scissorhands, nervously.
"Excuse me?"
"You know...have sex with me? You want to?"
Oh, Edward had known what she meant before she'd been so kind as to specify. He was picking up quickly on modern slang, and he knew that "screw" was a phrase often synonymous with the act of having sexual intercourse, depending on the context. But the main clue that had tipped him off to the tenor of her inquiry had been not only her use of the word "sexy," but the manner in which she was suddenly behaving. Dulcet and seductive. Strange...unnerving...scary.
"Um..."
How should he respond to such a question? Until tonight, no one had seemed to have any sort of sexual interest in him, other than Amber Rose's brief assesment of him and his outfit upon their first meeting; "He's hot." The idea was entirely new to him, and he wasn't entirely certain of his opinion on the subject.
Would it be rude to answer with a flat-out "no"? She was obviously very interested in the idea, and would probably disappointed, possibly even offended if he declined her strange but nevertheless generous invitation. Edward had read that it was a great honor to be invited into a pretty girl's bed, but he'd never really read anywhere how to respond to said invitation. He would have to act upon rudimentary instinct, basic programming...he was not at all confident in his ability to do so. The idea of sex, and even the ability to fathom it without sufficient exposure to example was, in fact, too far advanced for his robotic brain to comprehend, nevermind to endorse.
The fact of the matter was that, no, he didn't want to. He didn't think he could, not now, and possibly not ever. Besides, he was sure Lydia would disapprove...
"I'm sorry," he replied, shakily, trying to convince himself that the answer he was about to supply was the best one possible. "I can't."
"Oh," Bobbi said, obviously disappointed. Edward felt terrible, but didn't know what to do. Luckily, he didn't really have to do anything, as she immediately began to speak again. "You have a girlfriend. I understand. Hot guy like you...of course you have a girlfriend. Just thought I'd ask, you know? Couldn't hurt." She gave him a smile and another drink of punch and that was that. As soon as his black lips had left their mark on the rim of the cup, she began to rattle off another string of unusual questions, and Edward felt a lot better. He'd seemed to have done the right thing, and that was always a good feeling to have.
Lydia was enjoying herself for the first time since she arrived. -Really- enjoying herself, not just sitting back with a drink or two and tolerating the situation. She was actually. having. fun.
Mr. Craven, whose first name turned out to be Thom, (as she'd found out at the beginning of their long and pleasant converstation--Thomas E., to be specific) was, for lack of a better description, really freaking cool. He wasn't the geek Lydia had first perceived him to be, though he admitted to being a D&D fanatic in his younger years, and he'd admitted to her, slightly regrettably, that his middle initial stood for Eugene. He was just a normal guy with a normal college life and normal taste in clothing...for a seventy year old, or so Lydia thought (his current costume of course being exempt). He was well read and liked many of the same authors as Lydia, Poe included. She was extremely glad that he'd decided to show up, and she told him so over yet another cup of punch.
"I rather am, as well," he replied honestly, taking a handful of gummy worms from a small plastic cauldron on the snack table and placing it onto his plate.
"Isn't it kinda hard to eat with those things in?" Lydia asked, gesturing to his fanged mouth.
"Huh? Oh, no, not really," he said, forgetting at first that he was even wearing the pointed caps. "It was a bit tricky when I first started wearing them, but I've mastered it. Besides, I like to swallow these things, whole," he said, plucking a red-and-yellow worm from his plate. He then dangled it over his mouth, dropped it inside and gulped it down loudly for emphasis. Lydia made a face and bit into an Oreo with orange filling.
"So," Thom began after their munchies had been collected, "Care to dance?"
Lydia nearly choked on an M&M.
"Dance? But...we just got our refreshments."
"It's okay, we can just set them down on that unoccupied corner of the table. No one'll eat 'em. You know how cootie-paranoid teenagers are."
"Yeah, but...er..." Lydia was trying to tell him that she didn't dance without hurting his feelings or sounding like a complete idiot. "My foot hurts," was all she managed to blurt out.
"Pfft," Thom scoffed, obviously not buying it. "C'mon, you can do it."
Lydia shook her head. She'd never danced with anyone before. In fact, she'd never really danced at all, except for when she'd gotten good grades back at Miss Shannon's...she wasn't accustomed to dancing on solid ground, especially not with so many other people around.
"Please?" he implored, extending an elegant hand in her direction, his eyebrows knitted, his bloody lips pouting slightly.
Lydia sighed and set her plate down in a display of defeat. "Fine," she said, rolling her eyes as she allowed herself to be whisked away into the swarm of bouncing teenaged bodies, hoping she wouldn't regret it.
Edward's audience had multiplied by two, and the name of the other girl was Allison. She wasn't as pretty as Bobbi, though she was not by any means unattractive. Her true hair colour was concealed beneath a mop of neon green hair and a pointed black witch's hat. Her dress was short and black and her thin legs were covered in green and black striped stockings. She seemed to share Bobbi's fascination with Edward's strange style of dress, interesting "hands", and did not seem to be totally adverse to the idea of sexing him up.
But the comfort blanket aquired from the mysterious drink had not been penetrated, Bobbi's proposition notwithstanding, and for this Edward was most grateful. Though he could not always understand exactly what he was being asked, he made an effort to answer each question to the best of his ability. The conversation was pleasant enough, and he was quite pleased with himself for being such an active part of it. If only Lydia could see him, now, he thought.
Allison and Bobbi seemed to be partial to conversing amongst themselves, in front of Edward, as though he were not even there, and then, when their next inquiry had been privately discussed to the maximum, they decided to present it to Edward, then wait for it with greedy eyes.
The current topic of discussion was something called "bondage". Apparently his suit fit under the category, and "really turned them on."
As if he weren't all ready lost enough, Allison then took the opportunity to ask Edward whether he was a "dom" or a "sub."
"Uh..." came his hollow reply as he blinked and snipped and wondered what on Earth they were talking about. Now he was really beginning to feel quite funny. His head seemed lighter, the room seemed to spin more, though he had been standing perfectly still for the past half hour or so. His knees were becoming wobbly, and every so often, for seemingly no reason what-so-ever, he felt oddly compelled to suddenly burst out laughing. An odd feeling, indeed. He didn't know well enough to blame it on the supposedly innocent sips of drink he kept taking. All he knew was that he felt strange, and he was having more trouble thinking of answers than usual.
"Oh, you're not sure," Bobbi replied when Edward did not. "That's cool, I'm pretty versatile, myself." She smiled sweetly and Edward smiled back, though how sweet his smile was, he couldn't say, for he was having difficulty controlling the muscles in his face, and was able to produce nothing more than a queer half-grin.
"Hey, listen," Allison said, stepping closer to Edward and lightly grabbing hold of one of the buckles on his chest. "Me and Bobbi have a little thing going on, Sunday. You wanna come?"
"Is it a party?" he asked, his words slightly slurred.
Allison looked at Bobbi with a mischevious grin, then turned back to Edward.
"...you might say that..."
A slow dance. Who would have thought there would be a slow dance at a hip-and-happenin' Halloween party? Certainly not Lydia, who'd been having a pretty good time dancing with her substitute teacher at a comfortable distance...but a slow dance? Somebody had probably requested it, damn them. Her first impulse was to run back to her chair in the corner and glue herself to the seat. But there was something about the look he gave her, that, even through the creepy ice-blue contacts, was irresistable.
Before she knew it, the gap between them had been closed and they were in each others' arms, swaying back and forth in time to the slow rhythm of the music. His breath was warm on her neck and the velvet of his coat was soft beneath her fingertips. His cologne was sweet and musky; very masculine and sensual without being overpoweringly chemical. She absently caressed the fabric on his shoulder as the song progressed, and soon her eyes were closed and safe from the harsh smoke and lights that had been assaulting them all evening. She'd never slow-danced with anyone before, -ever-. But she had to admit, this was nice. She allowed herself a small sigh of contentment, not thinking at all about anything but how nice his soft arms felt around her, his chin resting in the curve between her neck and shoulder, his pleasant smell, his slim waist...it all felt so completely right.
But then her mind began to wander away from the warm comfort. It was almost as if in her intoxicated state she was forgetting about something more important. Someone. Someone who would probably be hurt if he saw her being so close to someone else.
And then a funny feeling suddenly washed over her, causing her to shiver as though cold, even when she was anything but.
She opened her eyes and lifted her head from his shoulder. She was just tall enough to see over the top of it if she stood on tip-toe. She squinted and strained so that she could see all the way to the other side of the room. There were a lot of dark shapes between her and the corner, some of the recognizable, others not. She paid no attention to whether or not the faces in the crowd were familiar...there was something more important in the corner, she just knew it. If only she were closer. If only it weren't so dark...
As though by magic, part of her wish was granted and the slow dance ended. Some of the coloured lights came back up and she could just barely see to the corner of the room. She'd not yet left Thom's arms, and he showed no sign of letting go. They seemed to be forever entwined in a mutual embrace, but Lydia had simply not let go because she hadn't really thought of it, yet. She was looking for someone, and she was not paying attention to anything else.
And then she spotted him. He was standing with his back to her, talking to two young ladies who seemed very interested in whatever he had to say. Too interested.
But wait, what was he doing, there?
No, that couldn't be him. Must just be some other tall, skinny goth guy with messy black hair and a leather body-suit. But how to explain the strange tingle that had just come over her? That only really happened when something was wrong, and if it was really -him- standing so close to those girls, then something was definitely not right.
"Excuse me," she said, suddenly detatching herself from Thom and dashing through the crowd, leaving him in the middle of the dance floor, alone and confused. But she had to find out, and in order to do so, she couldn't just stand there hugging him. She would have explained as such, had she thought to do so.
The trip through the crowd was slow and uncomfortable, as everyone had all ready begun to lose themselves in the next song. She narrowly avoided a black eye just as she was creeping out of the swarming pit of bodies.
She was close now. Close enough to discern whether or not who she'd spotted across the room was, in fact...
"Edward!"
He turned abruptly, his left hand just barely missing Allison's hat as he raised it, ready to defend himself if need be. He was more than a little jumpy, though the alcohol had done its best to put him at ease.
"Lydia?" he asked in a tone that matched hers almost perfectly. The look of worried surprise quickly morphed into one of happiness. He'd hoped she would be there, but he didn't actually think he would find her. She was there! He wasn't alone! Needless to say, he was delighted, if not a little too drunk to show it as he normally would have. He wanted to hug her, but the message stopped somewhere from his heart to his brain, and never even reached his arms.
"What...?" Lydia was at a total loss for words. She tried to put two and two together, but she'd never been particularly good at math, and due to her inebriation and sheer shock and finding Edward there, even this seemingly simple equation was impossible to solve.
She paused a moment and just looked at him. His face had been altered, not negatively, by black eyeliner and lipstick, which was very faded but still noticable. His hair had been combed down over his eyes so that it looked as though he wore a black mop on his forehead, though it was not at all unattractive. Actually, the look quite suited him, Lydia couldn't stop herself from thinking. But nevermind the make-up. What the hell was he doing here?
"Uhm..." he replied slowly, peering out at her through his ebony tangles as though he were either ashamed to answer or not exactly sure how to. Either was a possibility with him, Lydia knew.
"Amber Rose brought me," he finally answered, after a few moments of what would have been careful consideration if not for the alcohol surging within him. He didn't want Lydia to be angry with him, or with Amber Rose, though he did wish the latter would have stayed with him.
"Oh she did, did she...?" Lydia rolled her eyes and blew from her eyes a stray bit of hair that had somehow escaped the many spritzes of hair spray she'd doused her head in, earlier. "Do you know where she is?"
"...no," he replied, honestly. "But these are my new friends, Bobbi and Allison," he said, presenting them with a lopsided grin.
"I've been trying to get him to call me Alli," said the girl in the costume that looked like it was intended for a five-year-old. Something about her gave Lydia the impression that it wasn't only her tiny costume that was the size of a small child's.
"...Right," Lydia replied, an eyebrow raised. She needed to get Edward away from these freaks, and fast.
"C'mon, Edward. I have to go find Amber Rose," she said, all but yanking him away from the pair of sex kittens. "I'm never letting you out of my sight, again," she muttered under her breath as Edward allowed himself to be dragged away. Both were too pre-occupied to notice the disappointed and almost angry looks Bobbi and Allison were shooting in their direction, nor did they hear the various "Who the hell does she think she is?" and "He was so hot!"s as they made their way across the room at near-lightning speed.
Lydia couldn't believe it. How could Amber Rose do this? That she'd brought Edward to the party in the first place was bad enough, but to leave him unattended in such...unscrupulous company? Those girls were dirty and Lydia knew it. She was horrified to think what kind of questions they'd asked poor Edward, what sort of terrible, NC-17 rated things they'd told him, and she was too considerate of Edward's feelings to ask. Besides, she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know.
She eventually found her, fishnet-patterned ass sticking up in the air as she bent over her latest "kill," whose face Lydia could not see from the angle at which she stood. Whatever, she didn't care if Amber Rose was busy seducing Brad-bloody-Pitt, she -needed- to talk to her. It was urgent.
"Hey," she said, pulling her so-called friend back by the shoulder. "I need to talk to you. Now."
"Hey!" came a voice from below them. It grated on Lydia's nerves and made her want to throw something at its owner. She (unfortunately) knew that voice..."What's the big idea?"
Suddenly, the face of the mystery man was revealed, and, just as she'd suspected, he was pretty much the last person Lydia wanted to see.
"Sorry, Jake," she said, not feeling any kind of remorse for taking away his toy. "I need to steal her for a second."
"Lydia!" Amber Rose exclaimed as though she'd just now noticed the other girl's presence. "Havin' fun?"
"Nevermind," she said, pulling Amber Rose out of Jake's earshot. "Why in the name of all things sacred did you bring him here?" she asked in a sharp stage whisper, pointing just off to her left where Edward stood, seemingly fascinated by the pattern of the ceiling tiles.
"I couldn't just leave him at home," she replied, frankly. "I wanted to come, so I brought him with. He's having a good time, look at him!"
Lydia did, and she was not convinced, though she did detect an odd gleam in his dark eyes, a slight variation in his posture, and she wasn't sure she liked it.
"Amber Rose, you don't understand. He's completely innocent. He's not used to being around people, especially not people like -this-," she said, a hint of desperation surfacing in her voice.
"Chill, Lyds," she said, hoping the other girl wouldn't freak out on her. A freak out when you had a head full of drugs was never a good thing, and though she was coming down from her high, she still did not want to deal with any abrupt or harsh behaviour. "He's perfectly fine. He fits in! Just -look- at him," she repeated. She looked as though she were about to fall over were it not for Lydia's firm grip on her shoulder.
"Look, Amber Rose," Lydia said, starting to become privy to the fact that her friend had been doing some kind of drug as their "conversation" progressed. In sharp contrast, she felt herself becoming more sober by the second. It was as if their intoxication levels were having some sort of secret battle, and Lydia's was quickly getting beaten down by that of her friend's, not that she really had any objection. "I'm glad that you didn't just leave him back at the house. But you shouldn't have brought him here. You shouldn't have offered to watch him for me if you all ready had other plans."
"I know, I know," Amber Rose said, really beginning to feel as though she were being scolded, and not really liking it, at all. "Sorry," she said with a dismissive shrug.
Lydia sighed. Now was clearly not the time to explain Amber Rose's mistake to her. She'd just have to do it over a phone call, the next day, or at school or something. Now it was time to get Edward the hell out of there, before more scantily clad groupies latched on and sucked him dry like the little leeches they were.
"Look, whatever," she said, releasing her grip on Amber Rose's shoulder, thus robbing the girl of her support and causing her to wobble slightly. Lydia helped her back over onto Jake's lap, though she rather thought her friend would have fared better and had less regrets in the morning had Lydia simply allowed her to slump to the foor beside the refreshments. "I'll see you later."
"Hey Lydia, baby," Jake called after her.
'Don't turn around, don't turn around...' Lydia chanted to herself, but some unknown force kept her from ignoring Jake and simply walking away, as she always wanted to do whenever he had the gall to talk to her...let alone call her "baby". Ugh. So tasteless.
She turned abruptly, her black skirts swirling around her ankles, her mouth set in a thin straight line across her stern face as she waited for Jake to finish what he'd unfortunately had the nerve to start.
"You leavin' all ready? You know, I've got another knee here, needs warmin'," he said with a lecherous grin and patted his unoccupied knee. Lydia rolled her eyes and made a noise of disgust. She might have known the bastard would say something like that. What a creep.
"Let's go, Edward," she said, whirling swiftly around without giving Jake the satisfaction of even the simplest answer. "We're going home."
As she swept through the crowd with Edward close in tow, she thought she may have heard someone calling her name, but Thom's voice was drowned by the noise of the party, and the anger clouding Lydia's head.