opia [h.s au]

Chapter 5

I stare at my reflexion on the mirror, checking for the millionth time if I'm dressed properly for that damn party.

I mean it's a f*****g house party so I decided to go with black jeans, a cropped black top and an opened oversized red and black plaid shirt - which I stole from Dom ages ago. It's a relaxed outfit and it doesn't look like I put too much effort in it, which is f*****g bullshit because I actually experimented my entire wardrobe to get to his look, but no one needs to know that.

Usually I would go without the shirt, opting for the cropped top and jeans, but for some reason I felt too exposed with my stomach on display so I picked the shirt to try and hide most part of the skin that was showing.

For some reason my ass. I am just completely losing my s**t over the fact Harry will be there tonight. I'm a coward, but there's nothing new about it.

I spent the entire day icing my forehead to try and make the swelling goes away and it kinda worked, however the cut hasn't healed properly yet so I'll have to put another band-aid on it to prevent it from re-opening or being in contact with dirt.

I know the cut is on my forehead but if there's a person who can get dirt in it, that person is me.

Carefully I take out the old band-aid which is all crinkled because I applied foundation all over it when I was doing my makeup and squint my eyes in the mirror to analyze it. The skin around the cut is still a little swollen and red, but it hurts a lot less then yesterday. Just need to get a new band-aid and then I'm ready to go so I reach for the box Dom left over the sink yesterday and suddenly freeze.

Fuck. It's empty.

Think I may have another box here somewhere, but it's almost 9 pm and I'm supposed to met Gem and Harry at the party, I don't want them to arrive before I do - I've been to more Dom's parties than I can count and they can be a bit intimidating at first sight. I mean, I don't think Harry would be so fazed, with his history of going to wild parties all over the globe, but Gem would definitely want to run to the opposite direction as soon as she set foot in Dom's apartment.

There's no neutral band-aids in my cabinet but I found a cartoonish one that looks like a pickle, vibrant green with a little texture that makes it seems wet. When I bought it months ago I thought it would be funny to have a pickle wrapped around my finger or placed in my limbs - I'd never think I would have to use a bandage in my f*****g forehead.

Damn it, Billie. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

I don't have time to go to a drugstore and buy a box of regular band aids, in fact I should be arriving Dom's right now. Maybe I should just go with the wound uncovered and pray that it won't get infected.

I cringe, remembering last time I went to a party at Dom's and some crazy drunk dude conjured bottles of champagne and opened them Formula 1 style, soaking everyone and everything around.

Dom probably won't invite him again - although he was laughing at the time, the next day brought him not only a terrible hangover but also the need to buy new furniture for his living room and he was not even a little happy about it. When I woke up from sleeping in his wet couch, still drunk, I remember thinking it was funny as f**k but Dom's developed an eye twitch over that.

Can't risk it, if this f*****g cut gets infected I won't be able to do all the stuff I do in my job everyday and the idea of having nothing to do terrifies me. I mean, I love to spend my weekends morphing to my bed but my job is almost everything I have in life - apart from Dom and Gem, of course. Losing my job would drive me insane faster that you can spell coocoo.

Trying not to think too much about it, I apply the damn pickle band-aid to my forehead, turning my back to the mirror and running away from my house, stopping just to grab my purse and cellphone in my way out. 

~*~

Billie Ray

sent 9:27pm 

Where's ma gem? I'm waiting for you at Dom's, do you need the address again?

Gemma Styles

received 9:34pm

I'll be there in 20 minutes! Harry is late, as per usual.

Oh, son of a b***h.

If I knew they would be running late I would totally have stopped at a drugstore to buy some grown up band-aids.

But now it's too late and I'm stepping out the elevator to Dom's floor, the music from his apartment blasting around the hallway.

Thank God I'm not Dom's neighbor. If Mr. and Mrs. Wilson thrown this kind of parties I would have had a stroke a long time ago.

I mean, being 80 years old may have something to do with the lack of parties my neighbors have. The old age sure has its peaks but probably isn't the best age to have parties filled with alcohol and drugs. The most wild they got are when their family comes over for lunch on Sundays and I already have minor meltdowns over the high pitched screams of their grandchildren.

Of course those meltdowns go away quickly when Mrs. Wilson knocks in my door a little later to present me with some left overs of the delicious meal she cooked. The fact that she is 80 and still cooks has me tripping, I mean, when I'm old I'll only lay in my bed all day - something I already do but being old means that you can do it without feeling guilty.

Seriously I would not leave the bed unless there was a hurricane threatening to strike and maybe even then I would probably prefer to die lying down over trying to run and hide.

Don't think I'll reach the old age with those habits of mine, having noodles almost every night and drinking Coke instead of water, but if I do, I'm begging you to just end my misery. Just kill me already, I promise not to tell anyone with you promise to gift me with an endless night of sleep.

Shaking off the morbid thoughts, I step in Dom's apartment, not having to use my spare key as the door was already unlocked. Feels like I just stepped to a portal to the past. 

The mood is almost exactly as I remember from the last party here - the lights are off but the space isn't dark, there's fairy lights and a few lamps with different colored lights tittered all over the place, bringing a homy and kind of secretive mood to the room.

Looking around I see a lot of familiar faces from other gatherings I have attended to with Dom and everybody here looks so hardcore, the tattooed bad boy vibe exhaling from them - hardened facial expression, a lot of frowned eyebrows and tense jaws. It's funny to think that most of them are sweet as candy, they're people who I really like to be around. It's like a teddy bear freak show.

My eyes lay over one of the fewest guys who doesn't have any tattoos and I actually squeal in excitement. Oh my God I completely forgot about his existence, how terrible am I? Peter is one of the closest friends of Dom and he is the funniest guy ever. He is leaning against a wall, looking at his phone with a glass of whiskey in one of his hands.

Looking from here he looks like a teenager boy. He have that sweet vibe around him that is kinda boyish and innocent that completely misleads his true self - Peter being the most junkie guy I've ever met. I mean, he calls himself a Conosseiour of the Arts of Getting High.

Yeah, with capital letters.

I take large steps, but before I can approach him my vision goes completely black as a tall muscled guy hugs me, shoving my head against his leather jacket and I recognize the smell of his cologne in seconds.

It's Dom, who tends to get a little cuddly when he drinks too much.

Seems like he started early today.

"Billie!" He yells, hugging me even tighter before grabbing both my shoulders and breaking from the hug to look at me "I'm so happy you c- What the f-" His eyes darts to my forehead "Is that a pickle?"

"Didn't find any regular band-aids and I was late, so..." I shrug, giving him a sly look.

"Have you thought about it, though? The hot guy from your past is going to arrive soon and you have a f*****g pickle in your face!" Dom chuckles, shaking his head.

"That's my way to seduce him" I roll my eyes shoving Dom's shoulder "You know that's not what I want."

Dom sighs dramatically. "It's not about what you want, it's about what you need and girl, you need to get laid. It will brighten your skin!" He runs his big hand along my face, caressing my skin delicately.

"What have you been drinking?" I raise my eyebrows, dodging from his touch "You're far too physical to be sober."

"Had some liquid courage before" Dom shrugs "M'Nervous about seeing Gemma today" He confides, looking at me with puppy eyes.

"What the f**k are you planning on doing, Dom? She is taken, f***s sake if you disrespect her somehow..." I try to threaten him but can't help but find a little endearing how much he likes her. 

'f**k you, you know me, I would never do anything to make her uncomfortable" Dom whines "Just trust me on that."

I nod, not knowing what to say.

Ever since I introduced Gemma to Dom, during my birthday last year, he became completely obsessed with her, which I find very cute but also a bit strange. Dom is always going out with extreme people, no matter if it's a man or a woman, but seems to be a prerequisite for the person to be a little wild. However, Gem is like a sweet flower with milky unmarked skin, tan colored cardigans combined with blue jeans and white all stars. She is not edgy, she is not at all a rebel.

Maybe opposite attracts, I don't know.

To be honest I've seen Gemma giving Dom the side eye, but guess that's the natural reaction females have around him - I mean, he is practically my brother but even I know how f*****g handsome he is. He is the epitome of hotness all combined in one guy - tall, large, tattooed and bearded. He may not fit to the most common beauty standards, but he is every other girl fantasy of a bad boy.

"I trust you" I wink to Dom, whose smile goes bigger "Let's go say hi to Peter!"

We walk straight to where Peter is still leaning against the wall and as we approach him, his eyes darts from his phone to our face and he immediately brightens up with a smile.

"Am I hallucinating?" He questions "Are Billie really here? And with a pickle in her head?!" He giggles, pretending to be shocked.

Dom chuckles, saying something about going to grab us a drink and walking away.

"Hey you" I smile, giving him a quick hug "I'm really here and there's a pickle in my head indeed" I shrug, making him laugh.

"That sounds about right. How are you? It's been like ages!"

We quickly engage in a heated conversation about all the things we've been doing since last time we saw each other - mine being mainly about work while Peter goes on telling me the most crazy, incredible tales about how he ended up wasted in a dumpster in Russia, wearing nothing but fur and uggs.

See? This is the kind of life Peter is living, while the most exciting thing about myself is that I currently have a pickle on my forehead.

There's also the fact that yesterday I inhaled a hole carton of ice cream in one sitting but it's not like I'm proud of it to the point of sharing.

"Here ya go" Dom is back with more whiskey to Peter and two bottles of beer for him and me. We make a little toast before downing the liquid and I welcome the way the cold beer seems to refresh me from the inside out.

We talk a little more and two more bottles of beer later I am inventing some new choreographies that involves intricate arms movements and awkward dance steps while Dom and Peter tries to copy me, the three of us laughing out loud with how absurdly complicated are the moves I'm trying to create.

"My turn now!" Peter announces, stepping in front us before taking a deep breath and starting to walk in circles, raising his arms and moving his hips and I burst into laughter.

"That's f*****g easy!" I yell, mimicking his movements with exaggerated motions "C'mon, boy bring me a challenge!"

Peter stops dancing, wrapping one arm around my waist and pulling me closer to his body before leaning in my ear and whispering "I would think twice before saying that again."

He let's me go as quickly as he pulled me, winking before turning in his heels and walking away, leaving me completely dumbfounded to what just happened while Dom suddenly freezes by my side, his eyes going wide.

I follow his gaze expecting to see another piece of furniture dripping champagne but instead I lay my eyes on the only two people who looks a little anxious right by the door. 

The Styles are here.