Chapter Eight - Unrequested Threesome

"Okay, call me Mother Teresa, but I'm putting my needs on hold to get you laid tonight." Nat declares as she twirls the last curl of my hair around her finger, holding it slightly so it can cool and set its shape before dropping it with a grin.

"Mother Teresa was a nun," Alena reminds her, swiping her lips with a soft nude gloss. "You, most certainly are not."

Natalie grunts and sprits a setting spray over her face, inspecting all angles in my mirror. "Lets not focus on the specifics. Point is, I'm putting my child, Charlotte Osborne, before my own demanding needs. Currently, it's much more vital that she be the one to reach the peak of euphoria."

I grimace at her, shimmying into the black bodycon dress, careful that the straps of my bra aren't on show. "The peak of euphoria?" I echo in disgust. "Sounds like something out of a budget Shakespeare play." I tell her.

She bats a hand, knocking away my jibe. "Some say I am the Shakespeare of this century." She tells me.

"You just said you're Mother Teresa." Alena laughs. Nat frowns, repositioning the grip clips in her blonde hair for what I'm sure is the millionth time.

"And you just said she was celibate. Catch up Garc." I can't help but laugh as I watch her cup her boobs and mould them beneath her dress which is more holes than fabric. I so wish I had her confidence, but I certainly couldn't carry it off as well as she does.

I hear Ezra's voice call out from across the hall, telling us to hurry up. The three of us shout back that we're almost ready, quickly gathering our clutches and the bags of alcohol that sit on my bed. Nat dares another look in the mirror, checking out her rear as she always does before a party.

As we begin to the door, I hurry to the front, turning to face both of my friends. "Now remember. Ezra is an emotional mess. So topics of conversation in the car should steer clear of relationships, sex, weight gain, and other related subjects to the ever continuing pain of heartbreak." The two of them nod in understanding and we funnel out of my bedroom, not before I cast a final glace at my room which has once more returned to the equivalent of a shit hole.

Upon seeing me, Ezra shakes his head. "Mother is going to have a fit." He sighs, looking me up and down judgementally.

"Mother bought be the dress." I retort snidely, hopping down the stairs. Ezra, being the kind older brother he is, offered to drive my friends and I to Seb's house, after some rather violent convincing.

He's got no bruises though, so it's negligible. "How are you two; haven't see you for a while." He asks the girls.

Alena seems to seize up, no doubt concerned with the open ended conversation. She's a terrible overthinker and I can already see her having a fit at the chance she'll mention Ezra and his ex-girlfriend. Thankfully, Nat takes charge.

"We're good! How's Uni?"

"I've deferred a year," he explains casually. "Chaps says you're doing hairdressing?"

"Yeah, I'm doing an apprenticeship. It's looking good though, the woman said she'll be happy to rent me a chair once I've completed it!" She informs him gleefully.

The conversation proceeds much like that, bottles of cider opened as complementary travelling drinks. When Nat finishes her second before arrival, I get the feeling that Mother Teresa will be out for the count in an hour.

As we expect, Seb's house is the scene of a party as we pull up. We thank Ezra and head inside, not before I get the very quick big brother lecture about how I need to respect my body and if there's no glove, there's no love. Aside from now feeling violently ill, I'm uncontrollably excited.

Seb's house isn't exactly Kardashian worthy, but it's a sight to behold. A detached new build with posh metal fencing, a twisting stone path leading to his open front door. A few people litter the garden, a couple drinking and laughing, other smoking, and one puking into his mother's peonies, something I doubt she'll be very pleased with.

Inside bears every similarity to a frat house. Every room is full, the main lights are off and a hazy ambiance created with the use of Seb's personals strobe lights. The home speaker system blares out bass heavy music, vibrating the ground, rattling your bones, and thudding in your head.

Just how we like it.

The three of us bee-line into the kitchen, emptying the bags of alcohol on to the counters and filling the already overflowing fridge. I catch sight on a pizza box and mentally mark it as my drunk meal in about 2 hours time.

Nat's quick to pour us all a drink into the cheap plastic cups provided and I grimace after taking a hearty gulp. The drink, which is 3/4 vodka and the other part lemonade, clenches at my insides and warms my lungs in the most uncomfortable manner. Naturally, I knock the rest back and grab two bottles of cider, popping the caps with my teeth before all three of us go in pursuit of our host.

Seb is easy to locate, swarmed by a group of dizzy girls, overcome with lust thanks to the comforting hand of support better known as alcohol. As always, Nat is her usual self and barges through the group, wrapping her arms about Seb's neck and planting a kiss to his cheek, making sure to leave a very noticeable lipstick mark. The girls, clearly dejected, shoot her a look of disgust and disperse.

He's not all that bothered though. Aside from myself, Nat is wholeheartedly his best friend and the pair very rarely see one another anymore. He picks her up and spins her a couple times, forcing her to squeal and clutch at the hem of her dress, saving us all from a peak at the undergarments.

"Chapstick!" He cries out upon noticing me, rushing over the greet me in the same manner. It's easy to identify the beer on his breath, much more the glossy cover over his dark eyes, suggesting he's obviously way more wasted than the rest.

He's slightly more reserved when greeting Lena, pecking her on either cheek and squeezing an arm around her. "Where's Owen?" She waste no time in asking.

"Who, Collins?" He slurs. He looks around lazily, his eyes widening when he notices the blonde haired freckled boy in his dining room. "Beer pong!" He tells us, releasing Lena so she can scurry off to her less than secret crush. "What you drinking?" He asks.

"Anything I can get my hands on." Nat answers after gulping back the rest of her drink, bobbing her head to the music. She snatches a drink from the hands of a guy that stands beside her, winking at him in thanks and chugging that back too. "Let's dance!" She cries, grabbing my hand and leading me into the crowded living room where the music is at it's loudest.

The pair of us relax into the music, bouncing around and throwing our heads, completely messing the curls we spent so long perfecting. The two drinks in my hand are quick finished and after going to help ourselves to some more on several journeys to the kitchen, I begin to feel the effects. My head is an indecipherable blur, my eyes heavy with a sheen across them. My body is warm, not just from the sweaty bodies that surround us, but from the inside out, my veins bubbling from the heat that comes with intoxication.

"Let's go get Lena, I need a wee!" Nat shouts in my ear. The pair of us continue into the dining room where Lena is still fawning over Collins who is bouncing ping pong balls with astounding accuracy into the cups across the table. "Lena! Toilet." She orders. Alena nods and the three of us barge our way upstairs.

The toilet is vacant thankfully, because now all three of us are busting. By unwritten law, as the person who suggested the journey, Nat goes first, hoisting her dress to her hips as she hiccups on the toilet. Alena proceeds to fix her hair in the mirror as I sit on the edge of the bathtub, smelling the soap that sits on the side.

"Go Garc." Nat says as she stands, wobbling slightly as she fixes her dress, taking extra caution to cover her bottom. "Oh I love this song!" She exclaims as Alena stands. "Come on, come on!" She cries.

"Chaps needs a wee." She reminds her as she straightens her outfit. I hold back a burp and wave the girls off.

"Go! Go! I'll catch up!" The pair of them flee downstairs, leaving me to pee in peace. I try to hurry though, because Nat is completely correct. This song is an absolute anthem.

I flush the toilet and after all but staggering down the stairs, finishing off the drink in my hand, I stumble, hard, into someone. "Oops!" I exclaim, spinning round to apologise. "Oh. You." I remark, meeting the gaze of Elijah. "The dog pound is next door." I inform him.

"Always a pleasure Osborne. Tell me, were you dragged here?" He asks, taking a tentative hand to the very messy curls that are now flattened to my head.

"They told me you were here so I put up a fight." I say following a hiccup.

He grins, looking me up and down. "At least you're enjoying yourself. Shame you can't hold your liquor." He taunts. I scoff and gesture him in a 'bring it on' motion with both my hands.

"Let's go then dickwad. I guarantee I'll drink you under the table." I tell him. With a shrug of acceptance, he gestures me past him.

"Lead the way, Barfly." Together, we go to the kitchen, ushering people to either end of the room, hastily cleaning some counter space where I line up twelve shot glasses, filling each with the contents of whatever I can get my hands on. Some vodka, some gin, some jäger.

He shoots me a glance, seemingly impressed, as I then continue to position a bottle of cider at either end of the line. "6 shots, then chug like it's your job." I instruct him, hand hovering over the first shot glass. He matches me and nods.

"You got it boss." I shout go and the pair of us begin knocking back the shots, one after another, our faces grimacing slightly when a particularly strong one comes into play. We're head to head and despite my body building with a pressure that encourages me to stop, by hell if I'll let Hendrix win.

I'm first to the cider, followed in a nanosecond by Hendrix and the pair of us start gulping down the fizzy liquid. There is a blur of cheering that surrounds us, whistles and bangs as people slap on the counter surfaces, egging us on. I squint my eyes shut and keep swallowing, not daring to take a breath for fear I'll be caught.

When I feel the last few dregs leave the bottle, I slam down the bottle simultaneously with Hendrix and wipe my mouth, not caring that I smudge my lipstick. To my surprise, Hendrix extends a hand. I shake it and don't stop the smile that crawls over my face. "Not bad old timer." He says.

I dramatically bow, waving my hands out as a grand gesture, willing the alcohol to stay put. It does, I'm not a lightweight, but man, do I feel the effects that follow.

I'm hardly coherent, my words slurred, my vision blurred, but I don't miss the mousy hair of a tall boy, arm linked with an even taller, gorgeous blonde. I throw myself behind Hendrix, swivelling his body with mine so we're facing each other, clutching desperately at his sleeves.

"You have to hide me!" I demand. He looks down at me with a boyish grin.

"Come on Osborne. You don't look that bad." I shake my head emphatically, very aware of the further blurring of my vision, this time by tears.

"No, no you don't understand. It's Adam, he can't see me. Not now." He frowns and looks over his shoulder, his eyes finding my ex-boyfriend and his current girlfriend.

It's not exactly a secret that Adam and myself broke up.

Adam also used to attend St Bardo's but left last year to begin an apprenticeship to become an electrician. So, naturally, he has nearly everyone on social media, making our breakup and more so, his new relationship, very apparent.

While I'm sure that tomorrow I'll question why the fuck he is here, right now, I simply want to hide. When I see him turn, I pull Hendrix closer, not caring that are bodies are more or less pressed together. I'll vomit about it later.

Ew. No talk of vomming right now.

Having realised my desperation, probably assured by the tears in my eyes, he nods. Much to my disbelief, he slips a hand in mine and steers me off towards the patio doors, making sure to shield me from their view.

Once outside, the fresh air a welcomed friend to my drunk condition, I calm down slightly. The tears subside and now over my emotional state, I pull my hand from Hendrix and grip my hair. "Why the fuck is he here?" I seethe to no one in particular.

"I can go get rid of him, if you want?" Elijah offers.

I shake my head and release my hair, shaking my hands off to expel my nerves and fury. "No, I'm cool. Unbothered. I'm Jennifer Anniston in a room with Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie."

Hendrix shakes his head. "You're certainly not Rachel green."

I stop, looking up into the emerald gaze of my enemy who with that single sentence became a whole lot more likeable. "You watch Friends?"

"Do you take me for an uncultured swine?" He retorts as if the answer is obvious. I humph in support of this newfound knowledge, quickly returning to the problem inside.

"Will you go find Seb? He'll sort it. Or Nat? She'll do too." I ask him, deciding that either one of them will certainly scare him off, regardless of their level of coherence.

"Do I look like your lackey?" He scoffs, leaning himself on the wall of the house.

I scowl at him. "I don't know what you look like, but I pray I never see one again." I snap. With a telling smile, Elijah strains his neck towards the patio doors.

"Oh, Adam!" He sings. Hectically, I grab him, slamming a hand over his mouth and pinching his nipple, twisting it as far as I can.

"Please Hendrix!" I say in a frantic whisper. "Please, I'm begging you." I add, tears quick return to my eyes. Hendrix narrows his gaze at me, but then his expression softens and with a loud roll of his eyes, he nods.

I release him and breathe a sigh of relief when he makes no move to alert Adam of my surroundings. "Stay here." He orders, disappearing back into the house and leaving me outside alone, my night suddenly upside down, back to front, and completely on it's arse.