Four
You could hear the music from a block away. Cars were lined up on the side of the road, so Millie and I had to park pretty far away. It was Friday, and after school, Millie had come over to my house to get ready for Christian Sanchez’s party.
She wore a neon crop top that read “Dance” and black leggings, while I wore an oversized sweatshirt and ripped jeans. I didn’t usually dress up for parties, or for anything, for that matter. Dresses made me feel exposed, and skirts were no different.
We picked our way through the mess of passed-out druggies on Christian’s lawn and to the double doors that led into his house. He had a mansion. Everyone was squeezed together, the living room smelling of body odor and alcohol. It was not a good combination. Millie and I pushed our way through the crowd, and to the kitchen. I grabbed a red cup and looked around. Dad liked Heineken, so I never got that, and Spencer loved whiskey. I set the cup down and poured myself a few shots of blueberry vodka.
This should be fun, I thought, leaning against the kitchen island. Just like I had the night we’d met.
I was leaned against the counter, a red solo cup in my hand, sipping leisurely from the watered-down whiskey. Watered-down because I had a very low tolerance for alcohol at the time.
“Hey, beautiful,” a deep voice said from beside me. I looked over to see an unfamiliar guy smiling sweetly at me. He had an empty shot glass in his hand, and was dressed in a white undershirt with an unbuttoned plaid shirt overtop, and jeans. His short brown hair hung loose around his face, and his hazel eyes twinkled in the dim lighting.
He’s hot, I thought as I smiled back at him.
“Hey, yourself,” I said in return, tucking a strand of my then-brown hair behind my ear, blushing at what he’d called me. “Beautiful.”
He did love to trick me.
I blinked a few times as I snapped out of it, brought back to reality by someone bumping into me. A cold liquid soaked the front of my hoodie.
“I’m so sorry,” the guy said, as he reached out to me. “I’m such a klutz, let me help you clean up.”
I flinched as he took my hand, and he pulled away, leading the way out of the kitchen, eyebrows furrowed at my actions.
If only he knew.
A/N: What did you think of Spencer and Andy’s first meeting? Do you think it’s realistic that she would still be able to go to parties, or even drink alcohol? Or should she be triggered by those things?
Realistic Fiction
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So here’s the thing, we don’t have enough information to answer your question. I’m assuming you’re getting at the fact that she was sexually assaulted at a party? All sexual assault victims deal with it differently, so some will still drink and others may not. You need to flesh out the character more to understand how she’d realistically react. I also suggest you read about real assault victims and learn about their experiences.
Thank you for the suggestion. I’ll be sure to do some research before furthering the story.