All I’ve Never Wanted(11)

I blushed, muttering something about how I wasn't, really. Compliments on my looks always make me feel awkward. I don't even think of myself as pretty. I mean, yeah, I know I'm not ugly or anything, but when I look in the mirror I just see a regular teenage girl.



Venice groaned. "You kill me. Do you even realize how all the guys stop to stare at you whenever you walk into a room?"



"They don't."



"They do!" She gazed at me calculatingly. "But don't try to change the subject. There'll be plenty of hot guys here tonight and even if you won't date any of them you can still hook up, can't you?"



"You're the one who brought it up in the first place," I huffed. "And I'm not really a hook up type of person, V."



She ignored me, distracted by a parking space on the edge of the road. Granted, it didn't look large enough to even fit one of those tiny cars they drove over there in France, but it was a space nonetheless. Luckily, Venice's car was pretty tiny too, and by some miracle (or lack thereof, in my opinion), she managed to ease into the spot.



"Yes!" Venice beamed triumphantly. "Bow down to my driving skills, ye mere mortals."



"I'm bowing, I'm bowing." I stared nervously at the giant black Hummer in front of us. "Ok, let's go."



"Now you want to go in faster."



"I'm just getting claustrophobic." I stepped out of the car and was instantly bombarded with the smell of alcohol.



I blinked, staring at the chaotic scene in front of me. Take all the noise and people and alcohol from every party I've ever been to, multiply it by ten, and that's what it looked like right now. It's like a teenage movie party scene on steroids. All the lights were on in Stan's huge house, and I could see the shadows of drunk, horny teenagers in every one of them. In fact, there were so many people they spilled onto the vast lawn.



As I watched, a barely-clad girl in teeny-tiny shorts and an even teenier top raced past me, shrieking with laughter, with a shirtless guy in hot pursuit. A bunch of people were doing body shots on the hood of a car, of all places, while couples made out furiously everywhere.



I gulped. If this was what the party's like outside, I can't even begin to imagine what's happening inside. Or rather, I didn't even want to imagine what's happening in there. I was in way over my head.



Venice, apparently, didn't think so.



"Oh, thank god we managed to beat the worst of the crowds," she breathed, grabbing my hand and dragging me toward the house.



"We did?" I asked skeptically. It sure didn't look like it, but hey, what did I know? I was a Stan Hoffman party virgin.



We managed to make our way through the crush in the living room and outside again to the pool area, which was slightly less congested. Probably because someone had already thrown up in the pool.



I stood in the corner for a moment, surveying the scene. Not a single person looked sober, or even semi-sober. I discreetly checked my watch. It was barely eleven. Great. That meant we wouldn't be leaving for a good two hours, if I was lucky. I don't usually drink that much, but I had a feeling there's no way I could get through this night completely sober without tearing my hair out.



"Hey, V, why don't we go get some drinks?" I suggested.



"That's the spirit!" She beamed. Then, gazing over my shoulder, a mischievous smile crept over her face. "Actually, why don't I go get the drinks? It'll be easier that way. You just stay right here."



With that, she hightailed it back inside.



I stared after her, puzzled. "Don't get drunk and pregnant!" I yelled, rather belatedly.



"A valid concern at Stan's parties," an amused voice noted from behind me.



Whipping around, I found myself facing a very cute, sandy-haired guy I didn't recognize. Ah. No wonder Venice was so quick to leave.





I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. God, I must have sounded like someone's mom just now. "Oh…hi," I said awkwardly.



"Hi." His smile widened. "I'm James."



"Maya."



"I know."



When I shot him a quizzical look, he shrugged. "I asked a couple of my friends if they knew you," he explained.



"Who are your friends?" I asked curiously.



He gestured to a group of guys working on a keg on the other side of the pool. I have absolutely no freaking idea who any of them were.



"Apparently, everyone knows who you are," James explained.



My face fell. "They do?" I asked nervously. Either James was lying or I've been completely delusional for the past year.



Sadly, I suspected it might be the latter.



James laughed. "Cheer up, it's not the end of the world. I've never seen anyone look so sad about other people knowing her."