“My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary.” — Catherine Earnshaw.
Yesterday's events were explained to my best friend by a very wounded me, and he spent the whole night half awake and half drowsing off from the couch, for him to be able to take care of me even at late night. College classes were generally uneventful, and the swimming coach was out of town for a few days. It was time for me to join the party, the host of which I abhorred.
I threw a casual charcoal grey shirt around my shoulders, buttoning it up from the top to the very end, just leaving a few open at the top for air to get in. I had selected a black jeans for the event, which I fastened around my waist with a brown belt. Slicking my hair back with a little amount of gel, I posed graciously in front of the mirror, appreciating my handiwork. I was one hell of a sexy guy and the whole college knew that. The girls couldn’t get enough of me and neither the boys.
I was secretly hoping to see Jeremy, and catch him in a precarious position in one of the estranged corners of that huge mansion. Tugging the wallet in one of the pant pockets, I was out of my door. Appearances mattered and impressions too. Maybe I would get lucky and find someone to spend the night with. It wasn’t like Jeremy and I were together; it was just a summer fling.
Within twenty minutes or so, I was standing in front of the mansion when I waved Niall goodbye from outside his car. He flashed me a weak smile, muttering a bitter ‘take care’ before speeding down the road. I couldn’t see any trace of Alexander anywhere, and I was disgusted that a part of me wanted to see him even after the fact that the linear bruise across my left cheek told another story.
Excitement got the better hold of me as I saw throngs of people chatting outside the mansion with beer cups in their hands. Shouldering my way past the crowd of decent number of people, I stepped in the foyer only to become face to face with Jenna. She was wearing a black dress which descended to her knees, and a pair of black wedges. Her silky brown hair was pulled up in a messy bun, hazel eyes peering to look up at me. She was dressed to impress.
A butler interrupted the awkward moment by presenting a tray of filled beer cups at my direction, seeing which I grabbed two from it, flashing him a smile before he disappeared in the crowd. Her lips trembled for some cause I didn’t know, when I handed her one cup and took a sip from the other. Although caught in a fix, I figured my eyes wavered from her to every inch of the room in search of the non amiable host. But nada, he was nowhere to be seen. Probably he was putting that cliché to use, of being fashionably late to one’s own party.
“We need to talk.” She muttered, quietly throwing a nervous glance at the massive stairs that ascended to the first floor, as if she was afraid of getting caught by someone having a private moment with me. Unable to see any familiar faces which would help me engage in some productive activity for the evening, I agreed.
She pursed her lips together, one hand getting hold of my wrist, making her way through the middle of the crowd, leading me to a small chamber which was completely unknown to me. Making sure no one was watching, she threw open the door of the room on the base of the staircase, gesturing me to get inside. Faking a frown, I stepped inside the room with the beer cup clutched in my hand when I heard the door slam shut after me.
My eyes quietly studied the room, and found it to be quite accommodating by itself. There was a small nightstand beside a single bed which had a lamp on top of it. The roof of the room was slanting, as it would be, to the left. Placing the beer cup on the nightstand, I whirled around to face her when I saw her expression etched with uncertainty. I knew that look all too well; she was thinking something which was up to no good.