TweetyGram

11 - #HelloSummer

Summer used to be my favorite time of the year. But now it made me wish I lived in Antarctica, where I could wear a puffer jacket on the hottest day without looking like a freak.

I spent hours turning my closet upside down in search of a decent outfit for today's pool party. Unfortunately, all I had was a shabby tank top, three sweatshirts, five long-sleeved blouses, a pair of shorts, two pairs of jeans, two blazers, and a jacket; none of which was suitable for today's event. I had no choice but to buy new clothes, and finding a dress that had a pair of long sleeves and was long enough to hide the scars on my legs was like searching for a needle in a haystack.

I considered applying makeup to cover up the scars on my limbs, but in the end, I decided to pair a cream-colored spaghetti-strap maxi dress with a denim jacket. It was a nice combination; sweet with just the right amount of sass.

I just hoped I didn't stick out like a sore thumb in a pool of bikini-clad people.

My hunt for the right outfit took longer than I'd expected, and by the time I arrived at the Hollywood Hills mansion Nat rented for the party, I had to drive around the block three times to find a parking space.

I fluffed my hair and checked my reflection in the rearview mirror. A sprinkle of freckles across my nose was still visible, but the sweep of bronzer and peach blush that I bought specifically for today's party gave a healthy glow to my cheeks. I looked prettier than most days. Nevertheless, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't the least bit nervous.

"Calm down, Lindsey. You're not here to party, you're here to investigate. Focus on that." I sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. "Alright. Let's get this over with."

I hopped out of my car, locked it, and strode toward the luxurious three-story mansion. Funky electronic music blasted from the backyard, along with laughter and the sounds of water splashing. I was about to walk past the opened gate when a burly man in a Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts stopped me.

"Your invitation, miss?" he requested.

It took a moment for me to register that the man was a security guard hired to keep uninvited guests from entering. It had been so long since I last attended a star-studded party—or any party at all—that I forgot that some celebrities liked to hire security services for their private parties.

Nat had sent an invitation to me via bike messenger last night and told me to bring it to the party. I fished it out of my bag and showed it to the burly man in front of me.

While the man scanned the guest list in his hand, my gaze was drawn to the box of vibrant silicone wristbands on the small table beside him. There were only a few wristbands left in the box, some were red and the rest were blue. All of them had #HelloSummer along with suns and palm tree prints stamped on them.

"Welcome to the party, Miss Darling." The man plucked a red silicone wristband from the box and gave it to me. "Please wear this while you're here."

"Sure. Thanks." I was curious what the wristband was for, but I put it on without asking questions and headed straight to the backyard.

The open space was five, maybe six, times the size of my apartment and had a large swimming pool at the center. At least fifty people were crowding the vast backyard, and to my relief, I blended in just fine. Although I showed the least amount of skin among the guests, not everyone wore swimsuits. Some opted for sundresses, rompers, or simple linen shirts and shorts.

The best part?

Everyone was too busy taking selfies to notice me.

Thank God for TweetyGram.