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<i>I've been on Steemit since the beginning of February, but I only recently began to share my creative writing on this platform. I have been enjoying the process of putting my work out there, receiving feedback, and becoming more involved in the creative writing community here. It feels good to be a little bit braver, as I would previously have been too nervous to show my creative work to anyone (bar a few people who are very close to me). </i> 😊<i> Incidentally, this is a more-or-less accurate portrayal of how my face looked when I logged in this week and saw the anticipated payout on Part One of <a href="https://steemit.com/creativewriting/@aislingcronin/creative-writing-2070-part-one">2070</a> (a short story I've been writing):</i>
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<i>Without further ado, I would like to share another story I wrote.
</i><b>This Party is Boring the Arse Off Me</b><i> is an ode to friendship, and how it can appear in our lives in the most unexpected ways.</i> ❤️
<center><h1>This Party is Boring the Arse Off Me</h1></center>
‘This fucking rain, I swear to God,’ André fumes, as he and Sarah jog down the street, huddled under a spindly black-and-white umbrella that once belonged to her mother. ‘No matter how long I’ve lived in this country, I never get used to it…’
‘Can we call off the date now?’ Sarah shouts, laughing. The umbrella is threatening to blow upwards at any moment, while gusts of wind blast raindrops that feel like tiny icicles right onto their hands. Sarah shivers, wishing they had brought gloves. It’s only September, but the temperature has rapidly plummeted over the past few days, and it saddens her to know that summer is well and truly over.
‘No we can’t.’
‘Oh God…’
‘Come on, it’ll be great. I keep telling you that!’
‘Will it?’
‘You are a beautiful, fabulous woman –’
Sarah snorts. ‘I’m not so sure about that.’
He tuts loudly, tightening his grip on the umbrella as a particularly strong gust of wind nearly tears it right out of their hands. ‘Such a sceptic!’
‘Do you think it looks bad that it’s a double date?’ Sarah frets. ‘That I didn’t ask him out myself?’
‘He didn’t ask you out either,’ André points out, ‘and that’s his duty as the man, right? Not that I’m an expert in the weird and wonderful world of hetero pairings, but that’s how it’s supposed to work, from what I hear.’
They have reached the yearned-for shelter of the bus stop at long last. As they squeeze through the small knot of irritable people gathered beneath it, Sarah rips the hood of her raincoat back from her face, so that she can more effectively glare at André. ‘André, can you please be serious for a minute?’
He takes one look at her face and immediately relents. ‘Sorry, Sar. No, I don’t think it looks bad. I really don’t.’
‘I just hope we have enough to talk about.’
‘Well, you did talk for a while last weekend. How much do you know about him? What does he do, for instance?’
‘He works in finance,’ Sarah replies, then adds – when André stands there staring at her, as though he expects her to elaborate – ‘that’s it. That’s all I know.’
‘Maybe he’s involved in a massive corruption scandal,’ André whispers melodramatically. ‘Or … he could be involved in busting up the ring of corruption – a whistleblower type, you know? Mr. Lover Boy will be hailed as a hero forevermore! Well … it’s more likely that he sits around balancing account sheets all day, so I’m afraid I’ve given you false expectations now, and the poor guy will never be able to live up to them…’
Sarah shakes her head and snorts with laughter. She tries her best to glare at him again, but can’t stop an enormous smile spreading across her face as she finds herself reflecting on the night they first met…
<center>✮ ✮ ✮</center>
‘I don't bite. I just suck.’
‘Jesus, Karen…’
‘Oh come on, Dan! Say something terrible back to me. You know how this goes,’ Karen – one of Sarah’s new college classmates – exclaimed, before plucking a slice of lemon out of her cocktail glass and sucking on it, to take in its flavour.
‘I just wanted to know what kind of fucking weirdo eats lemon slices like that,’ Dan groaned, before turning to gaze imploringly at everyone else in the room. ‘You can all back me up, lads, right? I didn’t start this.’
‘You just have no comeback for that one,’ Karen guffawed.
This time, Dan’s retort was immediate. ‘I’ll come all over <i>your</i> back.’
This comment had prompted a gale of laughter to erupt among everyone else in the room. Sarah remembers Karen thumping Dan on the back, cheering, ‘that’s how it’s done, Danny Boy!’
<div class="pull-right">https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmfFuJLjCZcxSfgXh4EQ7TtgRnmHc4nUj5J6GRS5SwfJcP/BoredGirlAtParty.jpeg</div><p>Sarah simply sat there in the midst of it all, glass of orange juice in hand, and tried to smile along. She had known these people for just a few hours, but they had all gone to secondary school together, or been in the same sports teams, or moved in similar social circles all their lives. She did not doubt that they were friendly – a girl called Dolores had practically strong-armed her, as well as everyone else in the new First Year cohort of UCD Arts students, into attending this party after their orientation session earlier that day – but they intimidated her.</p>
Dolores walked in at this point – Sarah remembers that the party had been held in her spacious house in Donnybrook, stuffed with colourful bean bags and gigantic, soft cushions – and overheard Dan’s comment. She glanced at him with a raised eyebrow.
‘Don’t mind us, we’re just discussing our plans for later tonight,’ Karen trilled. ‘Did you find the bottle opener?’
‘Here.’
Sarah had been holding in the need to pee for well over half an hour by that stage, reluctant to make the people next to her move aside. But she could hold it in no longer. ‘Um … I just need … the bathroom,’ she muttered, turning to an inebriated-looking guy next to her. ‘Sorry…’
Making her way out of the living room, with all of its enormous beanbags and tipsy human occupants, was something of an obstacle course. Out in the hallway, she was confronted by another crowd of people, most of whom she had never seen in her life: friends of Dolores’ from secondary school, friends of their friends … and of course, a group of loud young men who just happened to be standing right in front of the bathroom door at that very moment, laughing and jeering at a friend of theirs who had apparently managed to lock himself in and could not turn the key correctly to get out. Sarah backed away, too nervous to stand close to them. She could hold it in a little longer, perhaps…
She wasn’t sure about going upstairs. She had no idea where the bathroom was up there, and she could easily have gotten lost, or opened the wrong door. A small number of giggling couples had made their way up there throughout the night, hand in hand, and if she were to walk in on any of them, she would absolutely die of mortification. After a moment of indecision, she turned to walk into a lounge area, which thankfully turned out not to be as crowded as the living room.
One guy sat alone on a sofa at the end of the room, cradling a flute of champagne. His hair was bleached, but Sarah could tell that it was naturally dark. He had applied a generous amount of pale blue eyeshadow to his eyelids, complemented by a pair of large earrings of a similar colour. The rest of his outfit was simple and plain: black jeans, a dark grey hoodie, and a black-and-white striped pair of Converse shoes. Sarah was pretty sure that he had been standing next to her during the roll call for their orientation session, but she couldn’t remember his name. Still, he seemed relaxed and calm – not quite as intimidating as some of the other people here – so she plucked up the courage to approach him.
‘Hi. Can I, um –’ She gestured at the empty space beside him.
‘No problem.’ He examined her for a second, frowning, before his face cleared and he snapped his fingers. ‘You were standing next to me at the orientation thing earlier today.’
‘Yeah.’ Sarah smiled as she sat down. ‘I’m Sarah. You?’
‘André.’
<center><h3>"He seemed relaxed and calm – not quite as intimidating as some of the other people here – so she plucked up the courage to approach him."</h3></center>
‘I love your earrings.’
‘They were my grandmother’s.’
‘Aw. That’s lovely.’
‘She was an amazing woman.’ His eyes misted over slightly at this – Sarah could tell that he was deeply fond of his grandmother. ‘This bracelet was hers as well, see?’ He pushed back the sleeve of his left arm and showed Sarah a slim, intricate silver bracelet, threaded with blue beads.
She smiled softly. ‘It really is beautiful, André.’
‘I know,’ he said happily, pulling his sleeve down. ‘My mother is from France, but my dad is from Dundrum, and they met when he went over on a holiday in the 80s. He ended up staying. We moved to Ireland in 2001 after my French grandmother died, though… I’m honoured that I got to keep her jewellery.’ He picked up his champagne flute again, closed his eyes, and breathed in its scent with deep relish, before letting out a contented sigh. ‘Veuve Clicquot. Scrumptious stuff. This is the good thing about posh people’s parties: the booze is always top-notch! Would you like a sip?’
‘Oh, I couldn’t take your drink from you! Thanks, though.’
‘But this stuff is <i>divine</i>, let me tell you,’ André declared passionately. ‘Wait, there’s more over there –’ he pointed to a small side table at one end of the room, where two bottles of Veuve Clicquot – one half-empty, one unopened – perched alongside a row of tall champagne flutes. ‘I’ll get you some!’
‘Oh, don’t put yourself to any trouble, really…’
‘Taste it and see what you think,’ André urged her, rising from his seat. Sarah couldn’t help but smile as she watched him pour a small amount of the sparkling liquid into a flute – just enough for her to taste it – before striding back across the room and presenting it to her with an elaborate flourish of his hand. ‘Drink up, my dear!’
Sarah stared down at the flute a little apprehensively. She had only ever tasted champagne once or twice – at the occasional New Year’s Eve party her mother had hosted – and she had hated it then. Would it be any better now? Slowly, under André’s excited gaze, she took one sip of it, then grimaced and put it down by the side of the sofa.
‘Not to your taste, no?’
‘Sorry, André. I’ve only ever had champagne a couple of times…’
‘Don’t go apologising to me,’ he said with a wink. ‘Apologise to Dolores for wasting her expensive pop!’
‘Don’t tell anyone, André,’ she whispered. ‘My reputation will be ruined.’
‘It’ll be our little secret, Sarah,’ he whispers back in an exaggeratedly confidential manner. ‘Your rep as a wild party animal is safe with me.’
She giggled.
‘However, I can’t tolerate this shameful, <i>shocking</i> waste of Veuve Clicquot,’ he continued dramatically, reaching for Sarah’s flute and downing its contents in one gulp. ‘Aah. Now that hits the spot.’
Just then, Sarah heard the bathroom door open at long last, followed by a loud cheer from the guys in the hallway. A few seconds later, she heard them move towards the living room, still laughing and mocking the friend who had ended up locking himself in.
‘Right, I think the bathroom is empty now,’ she announced, leaping to her feet. ‘I’ve been wanting to pee for ages, so I’d better grab it before someone else does!’
‘No worries. Come back when you’re done,’ André replied with an airy wave of his hand, before picking up his own champagne flute again and settling back into the sofa.
As Sarah approached the door, two girls stumbled into the room: giggling, clutching one another, and shouting about something that one of them had just said to a guy in the next room. One girl boasted a mass of glossy, elaborately curled red hair, while the other had poker-straight blonde hair. As they lurched into the room, the blonde girl’s stiletto landed straight on Sarah’s big toe, prompting her to let out a howl of pain.
‘Oh no, did we hurt you?!’ the red-haired girl screeched.
‘It’s grand,’ Sarah murmured through clenched teeth, bending down to massage the injured foot for a moment. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’m just going to –’
‘I saw you at orientation earlier!’ the blonde girl exclaimed. ‘You’re, like, really cute.’
At this, the red-haired girl let out a peal of laughter that seemed to affect her so deeply, she had to cling to her friend’s arm in order to stay upright.
‘Oh, um … thanks. I guess…’
‘You’re a real innocent, aren’t you?’ the blonde girl went on, a broad grin spreading across her face. ‘I can tell.’
‘I – um…’ Sarah stammered, unsure of how to respond, but she did not have the chance to say any more than that before the girl stuck out her hand and declared, ‘I’m Sheola.’
‘Sarah,’ Sarah replied, shaking Sheola’s hand a little reluctantly. ‘Listen, I’m sorry, but I really need to go to the bathroom, so –’
And then, without warning, Sheola lunged forward until her mouth was on top of Sarah’s. Sarah can still recall the pure shock that bolted through her. She had no idea what she was doing with her arms – oh God, what was she doing with her arms? She can remember them flailing around wildly on either side of her … probably because she was struggling to keep her balance. She knows that she was leaning as far back as possible – to try and create some distance between herself and Sheola – but the other girl’s hands were firmly clamped to her face.
‘What the <i>hell</i> are you doing?’
Sarah knew that she would never be able to express just how relieved she was to turn around – freed from Sheola’s grasp at last – and see André standing before them, looking furious.
‘Oops. I’m drunk. Sorry.’ Sheola giggled. ‘This girl is so cute, though! Aren’t you, Sandra?’
‘Oh my God, Sheola, you’re such an arsehole,’ her friend exclaimed, though she clearly wasn’t taking the whole incident very seriously, as she burst out laughing immediately afterwards. Sarah knows that André began to say something angry in response, but to this day, she doesn’t know what it was. She didn’t stick around to hear it. She ran straight for the safety of the bathroom and locked herself in, shaking slightly as she tried to regain her composure.
Before long, she heard a knock at the door, followed by his voice.
‘Hey Sarah. You alright?’
<div class="pull-left">https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmQMLvEps6Nwdwnmow7NLv7TZ45toDbUkvyKxU548EJv17/woman-mirror-bathroom-sad-820x500.jpg</div><p>‘Yeah,’ she replied after a few seconds of silence, looking up at her face in the the mirror and wiping away a few stray strands of hair. She can still remember the pallor of her skin, the anxiety in her eyes. ‘Yeah… I’m okay.’</p>
‘Did you pee yet?’
'I – I haven’t, actually. I should do that…’
‘Okay. I’ve told that girl to fuck off into the living room, and I’ll be back at the sofa when you’re ready, alright?’
‘Alright. Thanks, André.’
At least Sheola wouldn’t still be in the lounge when she went back in. That knowledge brought her some comfort. When she finally felt confident enough to emerge from the bathroom, she scuttled back to André as quickly as she could – determined not to bump into anyone else – and whispered, ‘thank you so much for that, André. Really.’
<center><h3>"She can still remember the pallor of her skin, the anxiety in her eyes."</h3></center>
‘You sure you’re okay?’ he asked her, frowning a little.
‘I don’t know. I’m just … embarrassed, I guess,’ she muttered, staring down at her lap.
‘Why should you be embarrassed?’
‘I’ve only kissed one person before,’ she confessed. ‘I dated this guy for about two months when I was seventeen…’
‘But what does that have to do with that girl being an absolute shithead tonight? Why should that make you embarrassed?’
‘I don’t know. It’s just … everyone here seems to be way more confident than me. More … you know, experienced.’
‘They’re probably making it all up,’ André said reassuringly. ‘Or most of it, anyway. You know what they say – empty vessels make the most noise.’
Sarah laughed shakily. ‘Right. It’s just … maybe if I was a little more confident, the kiss wouldn’t have bothered me so much. Maybe it would have been fine –’
‘Fuck her,’ André said firmly. ‘She had no right to throw herself at you like that, without checking to see whether you were okay with it.’
She turned her eyes upwards to meet his and chanced a small smile.
‘I guess you’re right.’
He beamed back at her.
‘Let’s face it, is there anyone in this room you <i>would</i> like to kiss?’
She looked around for a moment, then scrunched up her nose. ‘No.’
André burst out laughing. ‘You have the right idea, Sar.’ He pointed into a corner of the room. ‘I had half an eye on that guy over there earlier tonight – the one with the fabulous blue eyeliner, see him? But he projectile vomited all over the balcony a while ago, so that’s him out.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Tell you what, this party is boring the arse off me. Do you live in halls?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘Why don’t we get some chips and go back there? I want to try and catch some of <i>The X Factor</i> before it’s over. The audition round is my favourite bit.’
Sarah grinned, already reaching for her bag. ’Sounds good!’
She remembers that they had a fantastic night watching <i>The X Factor</i>, eating chips, and laughing together. Ever since that night, their friendship has been rock solid.
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<div class="pull-right">https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmaMpiFR7e9wWacuwMqM2vkk3guXPpAqzvP8dZdBTZRNeu/Friends.jpg</div><p>Sarah watches André now – observes the way he is frowning slightly, peering through the rain sodden air, past the bright headlight beams of cars and buses trundling down the road – and reaches out to touch his shoulder.</p>
‘Hey, André?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Thank you for this. Whichever way this night ends up going, I do appreciate you helping me like this.’
‘Aw Sar, it’s no problem. And listen, you know there’s no obligation for you to like him or want to see him again or anything like that. We’ll just have a drink or two, we’ll chat for a bit, and if you want to leave early, we’ll leave early. Sound good?’
‘Sounds good.’
'Okay! This could be ours,’ he says brightly, squinting at an approaching bus to check that it displays the correct route number. Satisfied that it does, he sticks out his hand to flag it down. ‘Now, let’s go meet your lover boy.’
<b>Image Sources:</b>
<i>Bored girl at party – <a href="https://www.huffingtonpost.ca/2017/05/12/alone-at-a-party_n_16493646.html">Huffington Post</a></i>
<i>Aww Yiss Meme – <a href="https://www.fimfiction.net/blog/541460/mohahahahaahahahaha">Film Fiction</a></i>
<i>Girl in front of mirror – <a href="http://reductress.com/post/annie-upset-after-not-being-invited-to-thing-she-didnt-want-to-go-to/">Reductress</a></i>
<i>Two friends laughing – <a href="https://www.elitedaily.com/life/best-friend-is-better-than-gf/1104624">Elite Daily</a></i>
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