Nothing Wrong With Being a Tomboy

Chapter 19: New Start; New Costume

|Andrew|

    The cork blasted away as I held the neck of the Champagne bottle with a stickful smirk plastered on my face. Laughs and giggles joined the frenzy as the background music blended within the festivity. Beautiful grins defined the hollow beauty of each and every woman that surrounded me. But I couldn’t whine about the company. Neither could I afford loneliness. I was tired of it and tonight, I was going to celebrate my last day as an irresponsible bastard. Tomorrow will be another day with weighs of worry. Tonight… is the night of carelessness.

“…So when I turned around and saw him standing there, I said: ‘Well, hello there, Butter-mother.’ And suddenly he dropped the Butterfinger,” I feigned happiness while I told the fibbed anecdote.

A roar of laughter blasted and the ladies swayed themselves closer to me. “Oh, Andrew,” said a ‘perfect target’ with black curls, “you’re so funny.” Her hand stealthily sneaked down to my thigh—so sly I hardly felt it.

With a sudden jolt, I chuckled nervously and she beamed a flirty smile. “Whoa, hold your horses, young lady. We have company, here.” My comment made her blush and she bowed her head sheepishly.  But I couldn’t let the prey of the night go so easily, therefore, I leaned closer to her ear and whispered: “Leave the fun for tonight.”

Her eyes shot up to snatch my smirking gaze. Though not a pinch of excitement rose from my soul, my body was aroused like every night. Like every single dull night. Every night—since I left the States to have administration training in Toronto—has been full of monotony with versatility. Study like a brained in the morning and party like a bastard in the night. And how I feel numb with it!

“Andrew,” the woman sitting to my left cooed, “When are you leaving?”

I took a quick sip of the champagne and licked my lips to answer, “First thing in the morning.”

“Don’t leave us,” she insisted as she cuddled closer to me. “Stay.”

Boom!

Stay… That word made my smirk turn into a thin line. A stupid drunken lassie can say that word and she can’t even say it? That stubborn she is?!

Or better said is she that in love with Ayden? I thought she liked him… but who am I kidding? Forget about her! You know what? She didn’t want me, well then, screw her! Her loss!

I gazed around the table, admiring the chatting and giggling stunning girls with drinks in their hands. I’m going to have fun and forget her, I said to myself, trying to convince me; knowing that that wasn’t true.

“Andrew baby, is there something wrong?” the curly girl purred with her hands rubbing my chest.

“No,” I twiddled a smile as I gulped down the entire glass and prepared myself to serve me another one. “Oh, by the way, don’t call me baby.”

She shot me a befuddled look and I swiftly gulped down another shot before I ordered her: “Drink.”

She furrowed her perfect lined brows and did as I commanded, taking a sip of the drink in front of her—always glancing nervously at me. If she wants my money, than she has to do everything I say, I thought, staring at her beautiful and foul face as I smirked. It’s fun to order around someone who’s willing to be at your feet—it should be a sport.

 “Hey, that’s my favorite song!” Grinning, she suddenly joggled up from her seat. “Come, Andrew, let’s dance.”

With a faked groan, I let her haul me by the hand to the flashy nightclub’s dance floor. “Sure about this? You might regret it.”