Page 59 of House of Bass

“You’re being a little weird,” Dan joins in. I’d forgotten he is standing there despite the massive black wing that is inches away from my eye. He better than anyone should know why I don’t want her around.

“Whose side are you on?” I say as I whack his wing away for effect. He grins with mischief clouded in his eyes, “There are no sides, remember blondie, this is my birthday so you have to be nice to me.”

“Whatever,” I say dismissively, knowing I’m not going to get my way here.

“She’s already pouting, damn that might be a new record.”

“We should make a bet for next time,” Harley says.

“I’m down.”

They both snicker with one another and I can’t even stay mad at either of them because it is nice to see Harley let loose and it’s been fun watching how comfortable she has become with him. As I watch her nose scrunch and the tip of her lips tick up simultaneously to reveal dimples, she looks just like our father. It is entirely uncanny.

They laugh their way to the bar where I have to yell after them to get me a drink. I take the opportunity to mingle with other people, but spot a couple of the students from the class I teach with David and screech away.

I hear MJ’s squeal before I even see her, she’s bouncing up and down, dragging her boyfriend behind her as they get closer to me. I grin as she pounces on me with a hug, her scent enveloping me as warm as the hug itself. My eyes connect with Arden’s, and my gaze trails over him almost without thinking. He makes the batman costume work, his muscles choosing this moment to bulge. And it fits him so well, I can’t tear my eyes away. Even as MJ toys with the wings on my back, she gushes, “The wings are so cute, oh my god! Aren't they cute, Ard?”

Yeah, Ard arent they cute?

“Somewhat,” he says, his voice devoid of warmth. Disappointment stirs in my chest, and I finally take my eyes off him. It’s disconcerting how easily he can switch his care on and off.

I drift my attention towards MJ’s outfit especially compared to his. She is wearing a mesh mask over her face and a leather one piece, paired nicely with black heels. No tail, unsurprisingly, but the mask matches his perfectly. “Your costumes are also so… cute,” I say, hoping I can keep the jealousy and sarcasm off the tip of my tongue, so I force a smile.

“We thought it best if we kept it nice and simple.” she sings songs, I have a feeling she had pre’s before getting here, most likely already tipsy. “Anyways, what are we drinking? And speaking of, where is the birthday boy?”

“Hopefully soon enough a vodka lemonade, and he’s at the bar with Harley.” They both glance in the direction of where the pair stood.

“Who is she meant to be?” MJ questions.

“That’s what I said,” I laugh and at the same time Arden says, “Beyonce.”

We both turned to him in surprise, “How the hell do you know that?”

He gives us both a look that suggests we should know the answer to that, “Daniel has been my best friend for twenty years.” The two of us come to the realisation at the same time at what he is implying.

As the party wears on, MJ and Arden have taken to the dance floor while I linger in the corner of the room watching them like a creep. They are dancing in a way that should have the police called on them for public indecency. Arden’s hand trails down her body, coming to rest on her bum as he gives it a squeeze. They grind on each other, her hips swaying and his body answering hers instinctively. She never takes her eyes off him, utterly absorbed in their act. But him… he isn’t looking at her. His eyes are fixated on me and just before he captures her lips into a heated kiss, he smirks and gives me a knowing wink. She is essentially climbing him for all to see and once again, I feel that familiar shade of green rising, contained only by the effort not to react. The bastard is provoking me, on purpose.

It strikes me that I have spent way too long at this party sober, desperately wishing to exonerate the hateful thoughts circling in my mind. Which makes me wonder where Dan and Harley are. I push off the wall I’d been leaning on and scan the place. I’m not sure where Dan has run off to but I at least find Harley where they said they’d be, still at the bar. She is locked in conversation with someone else, and as I near, I realise exactly who.

Scarlett.

I barely recognise her in her outfit: green leaves dangling on her, a tight green corset to accentuate her figure, a mass of red curls cascading down her back. Clearly a wig, her hair isn’t that long or that red. She’s even matched it with green boots which makes her taller, a little closer to my height. For a girl I’ve barely had to interact with in years, she has a strange habit of showing up wherever I go lately.

“This must be your friend.” I keep my head held high, the bitterness that had been threatening to come out earlier seems to have fought its way out. They both turn around at the sound of my voice, and the light on their faces is snuffed out.

What pleasant reactions, the people around me these days keep me humble. Truly.

“Annabel, this is Scarlett. My friend,” Harley says, for some reason she says the last bit like it took physical force to get the word out.

“We’ve met,” Scarlett gets in before I do, her eyes narrow at me, there is clearly no love lost on both our ends.

Part of why she hated me was because when we attended Thorncomb at the same time, we knew one another a lot more than implied. I mean everyone did at TCA, it was entirely impossible not to. In her case, she used to sell drugs at school that I craved so I built a rapport with her. However, I stole from her a lot of the time, thinking she wouldn’t notice but she did. When she found out, it didn’t particularly end well. So, I told on her about the drugs which got her kicked out of the school for the rest of the semester. Luke managed to pull enough strings to get her back in. I had no excuse except that I was a depressed and angry teen. I was irrational. But ever since, she has hated me.

Despite money and class, I find it pointless to talk down to others because they have less. That sort of thing should speak for itself. However, tonight I let the arrogance I know I can channel take over, “We have, and what was it you called me again?” I ask, making a show of thinking about it, my finger tapping against my lip, “That’s right, obnoxious and pathetic.”

Her voice, just as throaty as I remember, “That’s because you are.”

“Perhaps it takes one to know one,” I spit back, laced with as much venom that I can muster. I can’t even place why I am so angry. I must be taking out my hurt over Arden on someone else and now I am picking a fight with a girl I have once seen beat up two grown men.