It's Katy's eighteenth, and it seems she's invited every teen in our city. Not that its a problem. Her house is massive, and the 200 teens fit comfortably in the two large ballrooms at the back of the house. Her parents have conveniently 'decided' to go away for the weekend, so the whole house is open to the ever drunk teens.
There is an abundance of food, drinks, and sweaty bodies. I lost Katy ages ago, but I've found a group of girls who are in my year at college, and I am hanging out with them on the outskirts of the dance floor when he enters.
He is tall and muscular, with dark reddish-brown hair that falls in his eyes. He is following a pouting blonde who is wearing a way too tight pink dress that clings to her lack-of-a-figure. The guy is dressed far better. He is clad in a short-sleeved white shirt which has the last two buttons undone, showing his muscled pecs. A reddish tie is slung loosely about his neck, and he is wearing black jeans. He gets himself a drink, and then the blonde drags him onto the dance floor.
"C'mon," I say to the girls. "Let's dance!" I weave through the throng of bodies, until we are dancing right near the blonde and her fit friend. As we jump and shimmy my arm brushes against his, and he looks down at me. His eyes travel from my large green eyes and full lips, down to my strapless red dress that shows rather more of my cleavage than necessary. I shake back my long brown hair, staring into his blue eyes.
"Harley?" Comes a whining voice. It is the blonde, carrying more drinks. Seeing his eyes on me, she slides a hand around his waist, pulling him away. I turn around and try to forget about him, and when I look back, the blonde is leading him out, her hand playing with the zip of his jeans. He struggles, trying to get away, but then she has undone his zip, sliding her hand down his trousers. He bites his lip and lets her lead him out.