A car horn sounded outside. I rushed to my bedroom window, lip gloss in my hand, to see Stacey waving like a maniac from the window of her parent’s station wagon. I opened the window and waved back.
“Coming!”
I went to the mirror to finish coating my lips in the shiny pink gloss. Then I grabbed my jacket and ran out of the house.
Stacey was dancing in the driver’s seat to one of the latest pop songs by the time I made it down. I climbed in and watched her for a minute. She was carefree and didn’t give two fucks about anything or anyone. I loved that about her.
She startled. “Finally! The party has already started.”
“Sorry. I couldn’t decide on my outfit.”
Stacey paused then and half turned in her seat to look me up and down. I was wearing jeans and a black midriff top, silver hoop earrings that I’d picked up in one of the shops in town (that was way overpriced, by the way, just like Everything in this town), and finished off with the pink lip gloss Stacey had suggested I buy, but wasn’t really my thing. This whole outfit wasn’t my thing.
“You look hot, but you should have worn the short shorts as I told you.”
“It’s freezing out.”
“There’s a bonfire at the beach. Plus booze. You’ll get warm.”
“My legs are white and pasty anyway. I prefer the jeans.”
“Fine. Let’s go.”
She screeched out of the drive, taking the corner too sharply, and pulled out of our street.
According to the local kids, we were on our way to the most anticipated party of the year.
I was new here and wanted to fit in.
Stacey had moved here when we were eight years old. We’d known each other from our old neighborhood since we were in diapers.
A neighborhood on the wrong side of the tracks.
A neighborhood we don’t talk about. Because, well, we had to fit in here.
We were now living on the other side, the right side. It was known colloquially as Rich Bitch Mile. This was where everyone desired to live. The part of town you had to live in if you wanted any kind of reputation or notoriety or had any chance of making it here.
So, what’s a girl from the wrong side of the tracks doing in Rich Bitch Mile? That’s a story for another time.
Back to the reason we were going out tonight dressed up cute.
We were heading to The Circle, to the event every kid around here goes to before school begins.
The Circle is a secluded bay, around the corner from Rich Bitch Mile, and it’s the place to party.
We pulled into the parking lot to see the bonfire already alight, and a crowd of teens gathered on the beach.
There were no rules at the Circle. No sides.
No haves and have-nots.
For one night only, everyone was equal.
We climbed out of the car, and then Stacey rushed to the trunk and gathered a basket of essentials: booze, snacks, and a picnic blanket. Then we joined the party on the beach.
“Look!” Stacey said, pointing at a cute guy with a guitar sitting on a log near the fire. The sounds of his strumming could be heard over the teens’ loud chatter and the crackling of the fire.
“Who’s that?” I asked, looking to where Stacey was pointing.
“That’s Ashton Striker, the lead singer of One Strike. They’re famous around here. Rumor has it that Ashton’s dad is in talks with a big-time record producer in New York City. He’s the band’s manager. Isn’t he hot?”
Stacey sighed. I smirked.
“Yeah. He is.” I had to agree with her, to support her, but Ashton Striker wasn’t my type.
“Hey, Dane! Head’s up!” Someone hollered farther down the beach. I followed the sound and saw a few guys in nice button-downs and expensive-looking jackets drinking beer. One of the guys threw a can of beer in the direction of the hottest guy I had ever seen.
Now, he was my type.
The hot guy, Dane, as the other mentioned, laughed.
“Dude, I told you not to throw the beer. Now it’s all shaken up.”
One of the guys already with Dane shoved him in the arm playfully.
“It’s okay. we all know you like head.”
Dane blushed and shoved the guy back. He opened the beer, letting the froth escape before drinking hesitantly. The new guy that had joined was joking with the other guy.
But I paid no attention to the others.
All I could see was him.
“Uh oh,” said Stacey from my side.
“What?” I asked, still watching Dane.
“Dane O’Connell? Are you kidding me?”
My heart skipped a beat on being found out. “What?”
“A girl like you will never end up with someone like Dane O’Connell.”
She was right. But I didn’t want to believe it.
“Yeah.” Defeated, we settled down on our blanket by the fire and opened our first wine bottle. We clinked glasses and drank. Stacey watched Ashton while I watched Dane.
We could both dream, couldn’t we?
Little did we know that our lives would change forever before the night was done. And Dane and I would be connected in more ways than one.