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om_mainAlisha and Simon have a little fun at the party she pulled together for him, though the fun is a little subdued after he comes back and she finds out he's been snogging someone.
Alisha had basically set this party up for Simon. Because he'd said that he didn't know how to party properly and so obviously it was her job to teach him how. She was pleased when he'd agreed to wear the coat she bought for him and managed to find him a black mask that had darker blue highlights. The blue would show up when the light shined on it the right way and yet it wouldn't be overly extravagant. Just a little bit of colour to stop him from being completely black, grey, and white.
She had decided to go the annoying route and wear long white gloves, but the outfit she was wearing meant that either she had to, or she had to be on the watch all night and she had much better plans than to be watching to make sure she didn't touch anyone. She had a sleeveless black and white dress and a turquoise and purple mask.
Her plan this evening was to show Simon a good time, although she winced a little at her own internal phrasing of that. There was a good time and a good time and she definitely wasn't showing him the latter. She glanced around once she was inside and wondered where he'd gotten to.
Since Simon had, at her behest, agreed to leave the camera in his room, he was standing awkwardly by the bleachers, doing nothing at all as he waited for Alisha to be done with the mask-making party inside. He still couldn't believe that she would willingly spend a party with him, under any pretense, so he was hardly going to begrudge her the time he spent waiting for him. He didn't feel at ease in the coat she had given him, even now; it seemed far too fancy for him. So, in order to try to relax, he was already nursing a coke in which he had poured a little rum. Hopefully the alcohol would help take the edge off.
Alisha hesitated when she finally caught sight of him. She shouldn't have been surprised. He was at the edges of the party instead of somewhere talking to the people he had to know by now. After all, he'd been here longer than she'd been. But, of course, it was Simon and so there he was in the bleachers drinking...
That was what pushed her to head in his direction. She grabbed at his cup when she reached him and lifted it to her nose. She smelled the bitter smell of...rum, she thought. Pleased with him, she handed him back his cup. At least he wasn't like some people she could think of who refused to have a drink.
Simon took his cup back with raised eyebrows, confused, since he had expected her to take a sip. "Um, hi," he told her with a small smile. So this wasn't a date, but it was a still a fake date, and he felt that he had to say it, although it made him blush a little. "You look beautiful."
Beautiful, not hot or fit or 'I wanna fuck your brains out'. But beautiful. And she was pretty sure she could see the flush of his cheeks, though it was harder to tell with the mask. "And you clean up better than expected." It might have been a backhanded compliment, but it was also very true. She'd never expected him to look like anything but Creepy Kid. Now he just looked like Simon.
It was as much of a compliment as Simon could semi-easily accept, really, and he smiled again, briefly, awkwardly, in acknowledgement and thanks. "Do you want a drink?" he offered, glancing towards the buffet. It was the done thing, right, when you were on a date.
And that was when it sunk in just how he was acting. In the moment he glanced away, she was horror-struck. He was acting like they were on a date. She was very sure that she'd never said this was a date. She'd never not said this was a date, but she hadn't realized he'd assume the positive without the negative. She'd mostly pulled herself together by the time he glanced back and she offered him a tentative smile.
"A beer, I guess," she said, wondering how she was going to tell him this wasn't a date without ruining the night for him. Or her.
A beer? Simon frowned, amused. "I don't think there's any." They were underage in America, sneaking in alcohol under the nose of their telepathic headmaster. Beer wouldn't be worth the risk. "But there's punch, or coke, and I have some rum?" he offered, which was exactly what he was drinking himself. Adding hard liquor to available beverages seemed less risky to him. That way, it still looked as if you were just drinking what was on hand.
Simon wasn't sure they were fooling anyone, but thought it best to err on the side of caution.
"A girl can dream," Alisha said with a sigh, although really she would have preferred a proper pint back home. It wasn't often anymore that she got homesick, but there were still some things from home she preferred. She did smile a little at the mention of him having rum. "Walking on the wild side tonight?"
Simon shrugged with a small smile. "Not really." Not anymore than he usually did during parties. He might not do drugs, or smoke, but despite what had happened to send him to community service, he had never shied away from alcohol. He simply tended not to get blitzed the way Nathan did, for instance.
Alisha's lips turned up. "Are you saying there's a rebel underneath that tame exterior?" she teased. She did know that he wasn't shy about drinking, but it wasn't something that she'd ever really thought about. It was just what they all did, the four of them, because it was legal for them. Or would have been if they were back home.
Simon couldn't help but smile at her words, hanging his head a little as he did. "I think I would remember saying that." Because he was definitely not a rebel, community service and underage drinking notwithstanding. "So, coke or punch?" he offered, glancing towards the buffet again before looking back at her, clearly meaning to do well by her.
"Exactly. People who say they're rebels never really are. That means the people who really are never say it." She looked at him pointedly and grinned. And ignored the fact that when she was calling herself a bitch, she was essentially calling herself a rebel. She glanced at his cup and then nodded at it. "Coke."
"I'll be right back," Simon let her know, and got going to get her a drink. He was glad for the opportunity to drop the subject of his supposed rebelliousness. There was absolutely nothing rebellious about him, the way he saw it. He got her a coke, topped himself up while he was at it, then walked back to Alisha, trying not to think too much about how beautiful she looked. She always looked beautiful, of course, but this was... yes. No. No lingering on that. "Here you go," he handed her her unspiked glass, before pulling his small rum flask out of his jacket.
"See?" she said. "Rebel. Who brings flasks to a school? Unless Nathan stuck it in your pocket." She could actually see that: Nathan using Simon to do his dirty work. She was just pretty sure that wasn't what had happened in this case. She held up her glass expectantly. If she was going to get through this night unscathed, she was going to need it.
"Nathan suggested we buy the flasks, actually," Simon answered with a small, amused smile. "Before the end of year party this summer." It had been a good idea, Simon thought. A flask was much easier to conceal than a bottle, unless the bottle was too small to hold much more than a couple of sips at best.
"Of course he did." Now that sounded a little more familiar than Simon deciding he'd wanted a flask by his own decision. "So about the time I showed up. Fancy that." Not that she exactly thought the two were related. Not unless she thought that Simon believed he'd have to drink more now that she was around and she didn't believe that. She didn't think.
"About the time you decided to dress us up all smart," Simon confirmed with a crooked, amused half-smile as he poured a little alcohol into his own drink, after doing Alisha's. "We might as well drink smart, too." He closed the flask and put it back inside his jacket.
"You two needed all the help I could give. You were hopeless." Her eyes lingered on the outfit he was wearing tonight. "I might actually start using that in the past tense. For you, at least. I can't imagine Nathan being anything but hopeless." He could dress himself, but he would probably look perpetually like he was sixteen.
The blush that rose to Simon's cheeks this time had less to do with awkwardness and more with pleasure. He had made an effort, hoping that he would pass muster for her, and she had just complimented him! It was a nice feeling. "I don't think Nathan can imagine being anything but hopeless," he replied, a little quietly. It was part of why Simon made it a point not to. Someone had to believe in his friend, and, well, he was his friend. His very best friend.
Alisha glanced away briefly. She knew what that was like, not able to imagine being a better person. She saw the way that Simon looked at her sometimes and she wondered if she would ever live up to the image he had of her. But if she continued to think of things like that while she was here at the party, her entire mood would go to shit.
"The better question," she said after a minute, "is whether he wants to be anything else."
It was the silence that began to clue Simon in to the fact that they weren't talking about Nathan anymore. What sealed the deal was that she hadn't made a crack at their friend, the way she usually did. Simon was silent for a few seconds himself, turning the red cup in his hand. "Maybe he already is. He just doesn't like people to see it." Unsurprisingly, this was true of both of his friends.
"He's not." And even if she was keeping up the illusion of this being about Nathan, it was obvious it wasn't about him. She shook her head quickly as if she could literally shake the thoughts out of her head. "But this night isn't supposed to be about Nathan." Or her. "I did this so you could learn how to have a party. I think it's time for the beads."
Simon frowned, clearly uncertain about this. "What about the beads?" He knew the tradition, of course. He doubted that Alisha was about to flash him. Although, of course, the thought sent a blush to his cheeks.
"You're not going to get to see my breasts if you give me some. Though feel free to take off your shirt when I give you some." And she'd even appreciate it. He had a nice chest, not that she would ever admit that out loud.
Would she like him to? Simon's blush deepened as he stammered out, "I don't - I don't think so."
"Shame," she murmured, but she took the hand not holding her drink and pushed at his back gently in the direction of where she'd left the beads.
What had she just said? Simon wasn't sure, but it felt as if his face might catch on fire. He went to the beads and picked a string of them that, he thought, would go nicely with her skin tone, then went back to her and held it out to her with a small, awkward smile, wide eyes genuine.
Well if he was going to be like that, she was going to make sure he had the proper experience. She bent down and waited for him to put the beads around her neck.
Oh, right! Simon had no idea about all these things. Careful not to let his hands touch her skin, he stepped closed as he lifted the beads and lowered them around her neck.
"Not so hard, was it?" she asked when she straightened up. One of these days, he was going to have his confidence if she had to force it on him. "Your turn," she continued and reached for her own string of beads to give to him.
Since that was apparently the way it was done, Simon hung his head to let her put the beads round his neck. "Thank you," he told her when he looked up, trying not to think about how beautiful her eyes were.
She flushed under the look he gave her and tugged on his arm. "And now we're going to dance and you're going to do your best not to blush. Because I know you can do it." And then she'd encourage him to go talk to the friends she knew he had to have. Because she wasn't sure how long she could stand to see that look directed her way.
"Bringing it up isn't the best way to get it to go away," Simon pointed out with a small smile, but he drained the rest of his cup to go and dance with her. As if he would ever say no to that.
"Maybe one of these days," she teased, "you'll get tired of blushing every time we talk and become immune to the things I say." Although she did hope that he was never completely immune. She finished her own drink and then tugged on his arm as they headed in the direction of the dance floor.
* * *
Alisha's head was buzzing. She wasn't sure whether things had changed with Scott or whether they were just back to the status quo. She still thought that she'd end up getting a visit by Lydia sooner or later with the girl warning her off Scott. Scott didn't know girls, not like Alisha did, and she knew she was a threat. Especially because Scott seemed to like her and it wasn't just about sex.
But, she told herself, she didn't want to obsess over what she'd learned. Even if things had changed, he still wasn't leaving his girlfriend and so things hadn't really changed at all.
She glanced around the room when she left Scott and was only half-surprised to find out that Simon was missing. She'd told him to go talk to his friends, but he'd probably gone back to go get his camera. She pulled out her mobile and texted, What you're doing is like the birthday boy missing his own party. Where are you?
Simon was on his way back to the party when his phone buzzed. He frowned when he saw the text from Alisha; hadn't she got his voicemail? He opted to answer her in person rather than text back and put the phone back in his jacket pocket, stopping outside the gym to straighten his clothes (the shirt, under the jacket, was more wrinkled than it used to be, but thankfully hidden underneath it) and pat his hair down, never mind that he had already done so in his room. He didn't know where Eileen had got off to, but right now he felt, irrationally he told himself, terrible for abandoning Alisha, even for - especially for? - something as pleasurable as what had just happened. It wasn't if she needed him to have fun at a party, after all. She was Alisha.
He walked back into the gym and looked around, weaving his way through the small crowd and to her after he spotted her by the buffet. "I was gone to get more alcohol," he told her apologetically when he reached her side. The light blush on his cheeks was not so much about the lie (half-lie, it had been the point at first), but about what he was concealing. "I messaged you. I'm sorry."
She checked her phone and, sure enough, she had a waiting message. She smiled a little and shrugged carelessly. "I was in the middle of something." She glanced over at Scott and shook her head. It was a mess and she'd gone over to extract herself from whatever kind of a mess this was. Because Simon was sweet and a bit odd and much too innocent for the likes of her.
"So," she said firmly, turning away from the sight of Scott so she didn't have to see him go find Lydia, "tell me that you didn't just stand at the edge of the party watching everyone else."
"No, I -" Nothing to be ashamed of, Simon, she didn't know what had happened. "I was with Eileen. We were out of alcohol. I showed her the short," he offered, with raised eyebrows, and then he smiled a little. "She liked it."
She noted the hesitation and she couldn't quite help but tease, "Your girlfriend?"
Well, he didn't know, did he. Maybe? But even if she were, she was Eileen. She wouldn't want him calling her that. "She's a friend," he answered, still blushing. It felt as if he had kept assuring Eileen that Alisha was just a friend, and now it was the reverse, although this felt more like a lie. Alisha would never be more than a friend, but what Eileen and he had been up to was decidedly more than friendly.
Alisha hesitated when she saw the blush. It could mean a lot of things or, being Simon, it could mean nothing. He blushed around her all the time, even when she wasn't giving him a good reason to. So she couldn't quite decide whether he was blushing because she was teasing him or blushing because it was true. "How good of a friend are we talking?"
"She's a good friend," Simon answered, and looked towards the punch on the nearby buffet. "She's very honest." Blunt, really. "Do you want a drink?" He wanted a drink. No, needed a drink.
Alisha relaxed. Slowly. She had to be reading into this and she didn't want to wonder about why she was even bothering to ask the question. That had been the reason to get him out and into a party after all. Fun. If something had happened with this Eileen, it was only what she'd set up for him herself.
That didn't stop her from nodding a bit too firmly when he mentioned a drink. "Yes. Same thing as last time?"
Simon nodded in agreement, and was back a minute later with two glasses of coke, which he gave to her so he could pull out his flask and spike them. He had been thinking it over, in the meantime, and realising that there was no good reason to hide it from Alisha. She wouldn't go and spread it around the school, and she had been so determined to see him enjoy the party, have fun the way most kids their age did. She would be happy for him. So as he poured some rum into their cups, he admitted, cheeks a little pink again, "We snogged a little." To say the least.
And there it was. Just when she'd convinced herself it was nothing, he admitted to basically exactly what she'd been thinking. She lifted her cup quickly to hide the way her face fell suddenly. It was stupid. She should have been happy for him. She was all prepared to be happy for him and then the words had come out of his mouth.
She prepared herself and faked a smile when she dropped the cup back down. If there was one thing she could do, it was fake it. "That's great." And maybe the words were a little hollow.
She kept telling herself it was stupid. There was no reason to like him. He was still that creepy kid who had his camera around with him everywhere and the only reason he didn't have it tonight was that she'd made him promise he wouldn't bring it. She didn't even know anything about him. Why'd he been in community service in the first place? If she'd ever known, she'd forgotten and the only thing she could remember were Nathan calling him a panty-sniffer. No, there was no reason to feel disappointed. Except she was.
Perhaps, if Simon had been drinking a little less, he would have noticed the way Alisha's smile didn't quite reach her eyes, or the way her words sounded just a hint of forced. He did spend a lot of time watching her, after all. But as it was, he was still too buzzed by the alcohol he'd ingested up until now, and busy putting the flask away in his jacket as he gave Alisha a quick smile. He wasn't sure if maybe he should ask her how likely she thought it was for Eileen to maybe want to be his girlfriend, but then he decided against it, for now at least. He didn't want Alisha to laugh at him. He took his cup back from her and raised it at her in a small, silent toast, before taking a drink.
Alisha considered him and then she considered her cup and raised it to her lips. She only meant to have another sip, but it quickly turned into thirsty gulps. "You like her, then," she said when her cup was empty. She couldn't imagine Simon snogging someone he wasn't interested in. Nathan definitely, even Curtis maybe, but not Simon.
"She's..." Simon paused, because he had been about to say 'nice,' but it wasn't the right word for Eileen, for all that he thought that it fit, in a weird way. "...abrasive, but in a good way. A no-bullshit kind of way?" And she didn't see him as creepy Simon, or she would still be calling him that, he was sure. To her, he was just Simon. She was supportive, and she... well, she liked his body, which he still had trouble thinking about without flushing a darker shade of red.
He hoped that she had no doubt by now that he liked hers as well.
There was no way in fuck that Alisha was going to get through more of the sudden 'Eileen Appreciation Society' without more alcohol. She made a 'gimme' gesture at him and held out her hand. "Hand over the flask. I'm out." And she was pretty sure she was going to continue to drink straight from the flask. She told him she'd make sure he had fun and she was going to see it through, but she needed to be drunker before putting up with him starting to list the virtues of his new girlfriend.
Simon frowned, unsure what was going on, but pulled the flask out of his jacket and handed it over. It didn't even cross his mind that her mood might have to do with him, but instead... "Did something happen while I was off?"
Since the answer was both yes and no - yes, that something had happened and no, it wasn't the only reason - she just gave a non-committal little wave of the hand holding the flask and tossed back her head and had a few swallows of pure, un-Coked alcohol. It burned, but she wasn't sure she really minded. She needed something to remind her she deserved a little punishment.
That little wave did nothing to reassure Simon, and wide blue eyes were now focused on her in clear worry. "What's wrong?"
Her face heated and she shook her head. "Nothing," she said decidedly. Nothing was wrong. Scott could go fuck himself and she didn't like Simon. That was the way life stood for her. It had to be. So she took another decided drink and scowled at him. "You don't have to worry about me."
"I don't have to," Simon agreed quietly, but held her gaze, clearly not looking any less worried.
"You're mad," she muttered and looked away from him. No one ever had that level of concern about her. They cared, but not with the intensity he did.
"It's not mad to care about your friends." On an impulse, Simon reached out to lay his fingers on her forearm, meeting the satin of her glove instead of her skin. "Not mad at all."
She sucked in a breath when he touched her. What was he doing? Hell, what was she doing, because she leaned into the touch. "it is when they're fine," she protested weakly.
She didn't pull away - on the contrary - so Simon curled his fingers around her forearm, loosely, hoping that she could feel the warmth of another person's touch through the glove. She deserved so much more. "It's never mad to care about your friends," he amended his statement. He blinked, swallowed, then told her, "We don't have to stay here, if you don't want to." She might pretend that she was fine, but she was clearly not. If she wanted company without being at the party, of course he would go with her. And if she wanted to be on her own, he would let her be. Whatever she wanted.
"Are you trying to pull me, Simon?" she asked, smiling despite herself. That was just mad and she couldn't see him having the balls to do it. And that actually made her glad because she wasn't sure what her response would be. She wouldn't laugh because she actually gave a fuck about his feelings. She wouldn't say 'yes', either. At least she didn't think she would. She wasn't sure what she thought anymore.
"I know better," he told her with a small smile. It seemed like the right semi-joke to make right now, tipsy as he was. He would never have even joked about it if he was sober. He squeezed her forearm gently. "I mean it. If you don't feel like being here anymore..."
And there went any theories about him having balls. Maybe not as many as some people, but plenty enough. "Are you sure you know better?" she teased.
Simon frowned, unsure what she meant by that, and trailed his hand off of her arm, confused. Was she mocking him? He just didn't know, and it showed on his face.
She shook her head, though whether it was at herself or at him was anyone's guess. Instead, she grabbed his hand, tucked his flask back in his pocket, and pulled him out into the dance floor. "We're not leaving because this party was for you."
Thanks to her wearing gloves, Simon didn't think twice about the way she manhandled him onto the dance floor. Manhandle, in a good way. An Alisha way. She caught you up in her whirlwind when she wanted. Her words still made him self-conscious, because he didn't think she meant them. There were more reasons to have this party than just him; teaching him how to party was just an added bonus. But he just smiled, ducking his head, and said nothing on the subject, following to the dance floor. "You're a good friend, you know," he told her, raising his voice slightly so he could be heard over the music, now that they were closer to the speakers. It deserved saying because he didn't think that she did. Know.
A good friend. She looked almost wistful before stepping in closer so he couldn't see her face. She wasn't sure she'd ever been that. Or at least not for a long time. And she really hadn't been that for him. He'd been more of a friend to her than the other way around. She wasn't sure where to start except for what she'd done tonight. Still, if he seemed happy enough, who was she to say anything?
Simon wasn't sure what to make of the silence, but he didn't know what else to say. So he held her as they swayed to the music, careful not to touch her skin, and wishing that he could do more for her.
Alisha had basically set this party up for Simon. Because he'd said that he didn't know how to party properly and so obviously it was her job to teach him how. She was pleased when he'd agreed to wear the coat she bought for him and managed to find him a black mask that had darker blue highlights. The blue would show up when the light shined on it the right way and yet it wouldn't be overly extravagant. Just a little bit of colour to stop him from being completely black, grey, and white.
She had decided to go the annoying route and wear long white gloves, but the outfit she was wearing meant that either she had to, or she had to be on the watch all night and she had much better plans than to be watching to make sure she didn't touch anyone. She had a sleeveless black and white dress and a turquoise and purple mask.
Her plan this evening was to show Simon a good time, although she winced a little at her own internal phrasing of that. There was a good time and a good time and she definitely wasn't showing him the latter. She glanced around once she was inside and wondered where he'd gotten to.
Since Simon had, at her behest, agreed to leave the camera in his room, he was standing awkwardly by the bleachers, doing nothing at all as he waited for Alisha to be done with the mask-making party inside. He still couldn't believe that she would willingly spend a party with him, under any pretense, so he was hardly going to begrudge her the time he spent waiting for him. He didn't feel at ease in the coat she had given him, even now; it seemed far too fancy for him. So, in order to try to relax, he was already nursing a coke in which he had poured a little rum. Hopefully the alcohol would help take the edge off.
Alisha hesitated when she finally caught sight of him. She shouldn't have been surprised. He was at the edges of the party instead of somewhere talking to the people he had to know by now. After all, he'd been here longer than she'd been. But, of course, it was Simon and so there he was in the bleachers drinking...
That was what pushed her to head in his direction. She grabbed at his cup when she reached him and lifted it to her nose. She smelled the bitter smell of...rum, she thought. Pleased with him, she handed him back his cup. At least he wasn't like some people she could think of who refused to have a drink.
Simon took his cup back with raised eyebrows, confused, since he had expected her to take a sip. "Um, hi," he told her with a small smile. So this wasn't a date, but it was a still a fake date, and he felt that he had to say it, although it made him blush a little. "You look beautiful."
Beautiful, not hot or fit or 'I wanna fuck your brains out'. But beautiful. And she was pretty sure she could see the flush of his cheeks, though it was harder to tell with the mask. "And you clean up better than expected." It might have been a backhanded compliment, but it was also very true. She'd never expected him to look like anything but Creepy Kid. Now he just looked like Simon.
It was as much of a compliment as Simon could semi-easily accept, really, and he smiled again, briefly, awkwardly, in acknowledgement and thanks. "Do you want a drink?" he offered, glancing towards the buffet. It was the done thing, right, when you were on a date.
And that was when it sunk in just how he was acting. In the moment he glanced away, she was horror-struck. He was acting like they were on a date. She was very sure that she'd never said this was a date. She'd never not said this was a date, but she hadn't realized he'd assume the positive without the negative. She'd mostly pulled herself together by the time he glanced back and she offered him a tentative smile.
"A beer, I guess," she said, wondering how she was going to tell him this wasn't a date without ruining the night for him. Or her.
A beer? Simon frowned, amused. "I don't think there's any." They were underage in America, sneaking in alcohol under the nose of their telepathic headmaster. Beer wouldn't be worth the risk. "But there's punch, or coke, and I have some rum?" he offered, which was exactly what he was drinking himself. Adding hard liquor to available beverages seemed less risky to him. That way, it still looked as if you were just drinking what was on hand.
Simon wasn't sure they were fooling anyone, but thought it best to err on the side of caution.
"A girl can dream," Alisha said with a sigh, although really she would have preferred a proper pint back home. It wasn't often anymore that she got homesick, but there were still some things from home she preferred. She did smile a little at the mention of him having rum. "Walking on the wild side tonight?"
Simon shrugged with a small smile. "Not really." Not anymore than he usually did during parties. He might not do drugs, or smoke, but despite what had happened to send him to community service, he had never shied away from alcohol. He simply tended not to get blitzed the way Nathan did, for instance.
Alisha's lips turned up. "Are you saying there's a rebel underneath that tame exterior?" she teased. She did know that he wasn't shy about drinking, but it wasn't something that she'd ever really thought about. It was just what they all did, the four of them, because it was legal for them. Or would have been if they were back home.
Simon couldn't help but smile at her words, hanging his head a little as he did. "I think I would remember saying that." Because he was definitely not a rebel, community service and underage drinking notwithstanding. "So, coke or punch?" he offered, glancing towards the buffet again before looking back at her, clearly meaning to do well by her.
"Exactly. People who say they're rebels never really are. That means the people who really are never say it." She looked at him pointedly and grinned. And ignored the fact that when she was calling herself a bitch, she was essentially calling herself a rebel. She glanced at his cup and then nodded at it. "Coke."
"I'll be right back," Simon let her know, and got going to get her a drink. He was glad for the opportunity to drop the subject of his supposed rebelliousness. There was absolutely nothing rebellious about him, the way he saw it. He got her a coke, topped himself up while he was at it, then walked back to Alisha, trying not to think too much about how beautiful she looked. She always looked beautiful, of course, but this was... yes. No. No lingering on that. "Here you go," he handed her her unspiked glass, before pulling his small rum flask out of his jacket.
"See?" she said. "Rebel. Who brings flasks to a school? Unless Nathan stuck it in your pocket." She could actually see that: Nathan using Simon to do his dirty work. She was just pretty sure that wasn't what had happened in this case. She held up her glass expectantly. If she was going to get through this night unscathed, she was going to need it.
"Nathan suggested we buy the flasks, actually," Simon answered with a small, amused smile. "Before the end of year party this summer." It had been a good idea, Simon thought. A flask was much easier to conceal than a bottle, unless the bottle was too small to hold much more than a couple of sips at best.
"Of course he did." Now that sounded a little more familiar than Simon deciding he'd wanted a flask by his own decision. "So about the time I showed up. Fancy that." Not that she exactly thought the two were related. Not unless she thought that Simon believed he'd have to drink more now that she was around and she didn't believe that. She didn't think.
"About the time you decided to dress us up all smart," Simon confirmed with a crooked, amused half-smile as he poured a little alcohol into his own drink, after doing Alisha's. "We might as well drink smart, too." He closed the flask and put it back inside his jacket.
"You two needed all the help I could give. You were hopeless." Her eyes lingered on the outfit he was wearing tonight. "I might actually start using that in the past tense. For you, at least. I can't imagine Nathan being anything but hopeless." He could dress himself, but he would probably look perpetually like he was sixteen.
The blush that rose to Simon's cheeks this time had less to do with awkwardness and more with pleasure. He had made an effort, hoping that he would pass muster for her, and she had just complimented him! It was a nice feeling. "I don't think Nathan can imagine being anything but hopeless," he replied, a little quietly. It was part of why Simon made it a point not to. Someone had to believe in his friend, and, well, he was his friend. His very best friend.
Alisha glanced away briefly. She knew what that was like, not able to imagine being a better person. She saw the way that Simon looked at her sometimes and she wondered if she would ever live up to the image he had of her. But if she continued to think of things like that while she was here at the party, her entire mood would go to shit.
"The better question," she said after a minute, "is whether he wants to be anything else."
It was the silence that began to clue Simon in to the fact that they weren't talking about Nathan anymore. What sealed the deal was that she hadn't made a crack at their friend, the way she usually did. Simon was silent for a few seconds himself, turning the red cup in his hand. "Maybe he already is. He just doesn't like people to see it." Unsurprisingly, this was true of both of his friends.
"He's not." And even if she was keeping up the illusion of this being about Nathan, it was obvious it wasn't about him. She shook her head quickly as if she could literally shake the thoughts out of her head. "But this night isn't supposed to be about Nathan." Or her. "I did this so you could learn how to have a party. I think it's time for the beads."
Simon frowned, clearly uncertain about this. "What about the beads?" He knew the tradition, of course. He doubted that Alisha was about to flash him. Although, of course, the thought sent a blush to his cheeks.
"You're not going to get to see my breasts if you give me some. Though feel free to take off your shirt when I give you some." And she'd even appreciate it. He had a nice chest, not that she would ever admit that out loud.
Would she like him to? Simon's blush deepened as he stammered out, "I don't - I don't think so."
"Shame," she murmured, but she took the hand not holding her drink and pushed at his back gently in the direction of where she'd left the beads.
What had she just said? Simon wasn't sure, but it felt as if his face might catch on fire. He went to the beads and picked a string of them that, he thought, would go nicely with her skin tone, then went back to her and held it out to her with a small, awkward smile, wide eyes genuine.
Well if he was going to be like that, she was going to make sure he had the proper experience. She bent down and waited for him to put the beads around her neck.
Oh, right! Simon had no idea about all these things. Careful not to let his hands touch her skin, he stepped closed as he lifted the beads and lowered them around her neck.
"Not so hard, was it?" she asked when she straightened up. One of these days, he was going to have his confidence if she had to force it on him. "Your turn," she continued and reached for her own string of beads to give to him.
Since that was apparently the way it was done, Simon hung his head to let her put the beads round his neck. "Thank you," he told her when he looked up, trying not to think about how beautiful her eyes were.
She flushed under the look he gave her and tugged on his arm. "And now we're going to dance and you're going to do your best not to blush. Because I know you can do it." And then she'd encourage him to go talk to the friends she knew he had to have. Because she wasn't sure how long she could stand to see that look directed her way.
"Bringing it up isn't the best way to get it to go away," Simon pointed out with a small smile, but he drained the rest of his cup to go and dance with her. As if he would ever say no to that.
"Maybe one of these days," she teased, "you'll get tired of blushing every time we talk and become immune to the things I say." Although she did hope that he was never completely immune. She finished her own drink and then tugged on his arm as they headed in the direction of the dance floor.
Alisha's head was buzzing. She wasn't sure whether things had changed with Scott or whether they were just back to the status quo. She still thought that she'd end up getting a visit by Lydia sooner or later with the girl warning her off Scott. Scott didn't know girls, not like Alisha did, and she knew she was a threat. Especially because Scott seemed to like her and it wasn't just about sex.
But, she told herself, she didn't want to obsess over what she'd learned. Even if things had changed, he still wasn't leaving his girlfriend and so things hadn't really changed at all.
She glanced around the room when she left Scott and was only half-surprised to find out that Simon was missing. She'd told him to go talk to his friends, but he'd probably gone back to go get his camera. She pulled out her mobile and texted, What you're doing is like the birthday boy missing his own party. Where are you?
Simon was on his way back to the party when his phone buzzed. He frowned when he saw the text from Alisha; hadn't she got his voicemail? He opted to answer her in person rather than text back and put the phone back in his jacket pocket, stopping outside the gym to straighten his clothes (the shirt, under the jacket, was more wrinkled than it used to be, but thankfully hidden underneath it) and pat his hair down, never mind that he had already done so in his room. He didn't know where Eileen had got off to, but right now he felt, irrationally he told himself, terrible for abandoning Alisha, even for - especially for? - something as pleasurable as what had just happened. It wasn't if she needed him to have fun at a party, after all. She was Alisha.
He walked back into the gym and looked around, weaving his way through the small crowd and to her after he spotted her by the buffet. "I was gone to get more alcohol," he told her apologetically when he reached her side. The light blush on his cheeks was not so much about the lie (half-lie, it had been the point at first), but about what he was concealing. "I messaged you. I'm sorry."
She checked her phone and, sure enough, she had a waiting message. She smiled a little and shrugged carelessly. "I was in the middle of something." She glanced over at Scott and shook her head. It was a mess and she'd gone over to extract herself from whatever kind of a mess this was. Because Simon was sweet and a bit odd and much too innocent for the likes of her.
"So," she said firmly, turning away from the sight of Scott so she didn't have to see him go find Lydia, "tell me that you didn't just stand at the edge of the party watching everyone else."
"No, I -" Nothing to be ashamed of, Simon, she didn't know what had happened. "I was with Eileen. We were out of alcohol. I showed her the short," he offered, with raised eyebrows, and then he smiled a little. "She liked it."
She noted the hesitation and she couldn't quite help but tease, "Your girlfriend?"
Well, he didn't know, did he. Maybe? But even if she were, she was Eileen. She wouldn't want him calling her that. "She's a friend," he answered, still blushing. It felt as if he had kept assuring Eileen that Alisha was just a friend, and now it was the reverse, although this felt more like a lie. Alisha would never be more than a friend, but what Eileen and he had been up to was decidedly more than friendly.
Alisha hesitated when she saw the blush. It could mean a lot of things or, being Simon, it could mean nothing. He blushed around her all the time, even when she wasn't giving him a good reason to. So she couldn't quite decide whether he was blushing because she was teasing him or blushing because it was true. "How good of a friend are we talking?"
"She's a good friend," Simon answered, and looked towards the punch on the nearby buffet. "She's very honest." Blunt, really. "Do you want a drink?" He wanted a drink. No, needed a drink.
Alisha relaxed. Slowly. She had to be reading into this and she didn't want to wonder about why she was even bothering to ask the question. That had been the reason to get him out and into a party after all. Fun. If something had happened with this Eileen, it was only what she'd set up for him herself.
That didn't stop her from nodding a bit too firmly when he mentioned a drink. "Yes. Same thing as last time?"
Simon nodded in agreement, and was back a minute later with two glasses of coke, which he gave to her so he could pull out his flask and spike them. He had been thinking it over, in the meantime, and realising that there was no good reason to hide it from Alisha. She wouldn't go and spread it around the school, and she had been so determined to see him enjoy the party, have fun the way most kids their age did. She would be happy for him. So as he poured some rum into their cups, he admitted, cheeks a little pink again, "We snogged a little." To say the least.
And there it was. Just when she'd convinced herself it was nothing, he admitted to basically exactly what she'd been thinking. She lifted her cup quickly to hide the way her face fell suddenly. It was stupid. She should have been happy for him. She was all prepared to be happy for him and then the words had come out of his mouth.
She prepared herself and faked a smile when she dropped the cup back down. If there was one thing she could do, it was fake it. "That's great." And maybe the words were a little hollow.
She kept telling herself it was stupid. There was no reason to like him. He was still that creepy kid who had his camera around with him everywhere and the only reason he didn't have it tonight was that she'd made him promise he wouldn't bring it. She didn't even know anything about him. Why'd he been in community service in the first place? If she'd ever known, she'd forgotten and the only thing she could remember were Nathan calling him a panty-sniffer. No, there was no reason to feel disappointed. Except she was.
Perhaps, if Simon had been drinking a little less, he would have noticed the way Alisha's smile didn't quite reach her eyes, or the way her words sounded just a hint of forced. He did spend a lot of time watching her, after all. But as it was, he was still too buzzed by the alcohol he'd ingested up until now, and busy putting the flask away in his jacket as he gave Alisha a quick smile. He wasn't sure if maybe he should ask her how likely she thought it was for Eileen to maybe want to be his girlfriend, but then he decided against it, for now at least. He didn't want Alisha to laugh at him. He took his cup back from her and raised it at her in a small, silent toast, before taking a drink.
Alisha considered him and then she considered her cup and raised it to her lips. She only meant to have another sip, but it quickly turned into thirsty gulps. "You like her, then," she said when her cup was empty. She couldn't imagine Simon snogging someone he wasn't interested in. Nathan definitely, even Curtis maybe, but not Simon.
"She's..." Simon paused, because he had been about to say 'nice,' but it wasn't the right word for Eileen, for all that he thought that it fit, in a weird way. "...abrasive, but in a good way. A no-bullshit kind of way?" And she didn't see him as creepy Simon, or she would still be calling him that, he was sure. To her, he was just Simon. She was supportive, and she... well, she liked his body, which he still had trouble thinking about without flushing a darker shade of red.
He hoped that she had no doubt by now that he liked hers as well.
There was no way in fuck that Alisha was going to get through more of the sudden 'Eileen Appreciation Society' without more alcohol. She made a 'gimme' gesture at him and held out her hand. "Hand over the flask. I'm out." And she was pretty sure she was going to continue to drink straight from the flask. She told him she'd make sure he had fun and she was going to see it through, but she needed to be drunker before putting up with him starting to list the virtues of his new girlfriend.
Simon frowned, unsure what was going on, but pulled the flask out of his jacket and handed it over. It didn't even cross his mind that her mood might have to do with him, but instead... "Did something happen while I was off?"
Since the answer was both yes and no - yes, that something had happened and no, it wasn't the only reason - she just gave a non-committal little wave of the hand holding the flask and tossed back her head and had a few swallows of pure, un-Coked alcohol. It burned, but she wasn't sure she really minded. She needed something to remind her she deserved a little punishment.
That little wave did nothing to reassure Simon, and wide blue eyes were now focused on her in clear worry. "What's wrong?"
Her face heated and she shook her head. "Nothing," she said decidedly. Nothing was wrong. Scott could go fuck himself and she didn't like Simon. That was the way life stood for her. It had to be. So she took another decided drink and scowled at him. "You don't have to worry about me."
"I don't have to," Simon agreed quietly, but held her gaze, clearly not looking any less worried.
"You're mad," she muttered and looked away from him. No one ever had that level of concern about her. They cared, but not with the intensity he did.
"It's not mad to care about your friends." On an impulse, Simon reached out to lay his fingers on her forearm, meeting the satin of her glove instead of her skin. "Not mad at all."
She sucked in a breath when he touched her. What was he doing? Hell, what was she doing, because she leaned into the touch. "it is when they're fine," she protested weakly.
She didn't pull away - on the contrary - so Simon curled his fingers around her forearm, loosely, hoping that she could feel the warmth of another person's touch through the glove. She deserved so much more. "It's never mad to care about your friends," he amended his statement. He blinked, swallowed, then told her, "We don't have to stay here, if you don't want to." She might pretend that she was fine, but she was clearly not. If she wanted company without being at the party, of course he would go with her. And if she wanted to be on her own, he would let her be. Whatever she wanted.
"Are you trying to pull me, Simon?" she asked, smiling despite herself. That was just mad and she couldn't see him having the balls to do it. And that actually made her glad because she wasn't sure what her response would be. She wouldn't laugh because she actually gave a fuck about his feelings. She wouldn't say 'yes', either. At least she didn't think she would. She wasn't sure what she thought anymore.
"I know better," he told her with a small smile. It seemed like the right semi-joke to make right now, tipsy as he was. He would never have even joked about it if he was sober. He squeezed her forearm gently. "I mean it. If you don't feel like being here anymore..."
And there went any theories about him having balls. Maybe not as many as some people, but plenty enough. "Are you sure you know better?" she teased.
Simon frowned, unsure what she meant by that, and trailed his hand off of her arm, confused. Was she mocking him? He just didn't know, and it showed on his face.
She shook her head, though whether it was at herself or at him was anyone's guess. Instead, she grabbed his hand, tucked his flask back in his pocket, and pulled him out into the dance floor. "We're not leaving because this party was for you."
Thanks to her wearing gloves, Simon didn't think twice about the way she manhandled him onto the dance floor. Manhandle, in a good way. An Alisha way. She caught you up in her whirlwind when she wanted. Her words still made him self-conscious, because he didn't think she meant them. There were more reasons to have this party than just him; teaching him how to party was just an added bonus. But he just smiled, ducking his head, and said nothing on the subject, following to the dance floor. "You're a good friend, you know," he told her, raising his voice slightly so he could be heard over the music, now that they were closer to the speakers. It deserved saying because he didn't think that she did. Know.
A good friend. She looked almost wistful before stepping in closer so he couldn't see her face. She wasn't sure she'd ever been that. Or at least not for a long time. And she really hadn't been that for him. He'd been more of a friend to her than the other way around. She wasn't sure where to start except for what she'd done tonight. Still, if he seemed happy enough, who was she to say anything?
Simon wasn't sure what to make of the silence, but he didn't know what else to say. So he held her as they swayed to the music, careful not to touch her skin, and wishing that he could do more for her.
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Date: 2014-04-01 09:23 pm (UTC)Also, she kind of wants to nyah-nyah at Alisha a little. But that would be juvenile, so she won't. She'll just think about it. Hard. >.>