Ashley and Elsa glanced weirdly at Wren as if she had grown two heads, their faces a picture of disdain. "Is this shabby clothing what you're wearing for the party?" Elsa asked, her voice dripping with disdain. "Do you want to humiliate me by wearing this? How would I explain to others that you're my roommate?" She scoffed, clearly disgusted by Wren's simple outfit. Wren's lack of accessories seemed to be a particular point of contention for Elsa, who was used to dressing to impress. "You barely have any accessories on," Elsa added, her tone implying that Wren's outfit was incomplete without a plethora of sparkly trinkets.
Ashley intervened, her voice a stark contrast to Elsa's harsh tone. "Don't listen to Elsa, Wren. But for once I agree with Elsa, Don't Tell me this is the outfit you chose to wear today?" Ashley's voice was laced with concern, her eyes scanning Wren's outfit with a mixture of curiosity and worry.
Wren felt a surge of annoyance at the two girls' judgy gazes. "That's my best clothing, and if you feel like I'm embarrassing you with my cheap clothing, then don't slip any information that we're acquainted," Wren retorted, her voice firm and her eyes flashing with irritation. She took her invitation card and turned to leave, her movements swift and decisive.
As she stepped out of the room, Wren couldn't help but wonder how sure Elsa and Ashley were that dressing extravagantly would win the seniors' hearts. She shrugged to herself, figuring that it wasn't her problem, and made her way to the hall.
But as she stepped into the grand hall, the clothing she gazed upon had her shiver slightly. The room was filled with students dressed in outfits that sparkled and shone, their finery rivaling the decorations. Some wore elaborate gowns with intricate details, while others wore sleek suits that seemed tailored to perfection. Wren felt a pang of self-doubt, wondering if she had indeed underdressed for the occasion. The hall was a sea of color and light, with students laughing and chatting as they mingled. The air was thick with the scent of perfume and the sound of music pulsed through the room, making Wren feel like a small fish in a big pond. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, determined to make the most of the night despite her simple outfit.
...
Her first approach was the food section, where the tantalizing aroma of exotic delicacies wafted through the air, teasing her senses and heightening her hunger. She was famished, and thirsty from her earlier rummaging through her luggage. Pouring herself a cocktail, she swirled the drink in the disposable cup, the colors and textures mingling in a mesmerizing dance. She gulped it down with a hefty swig, the liquid sliding smoothly down her throat, quenching her thirst.
As she continued to drink, completely absorbed in her own world, she was oblivious to the gazes from the onlookers, especially from her fellow colleagues from other blocks. Their whispers and snickers floated through the air, like a gentle breeze on a summer day.
"She drinks like a camel," one of them quipped, their tone dripping with disdain.
"Look at her cheap clothing, is she crazy?" another chimed in, their voice laced with mockery.
"Doesn't she want the seniors' backing, or does she feel big enough to support herself?" a third voice chimed in, their tone tinged with sarcasm.
"Seems so, such arrogance," another voice concluded, the words hanging in the air like a challenge.
Wren, however, was not entirely unaware of their sly comments. She caught snippets of their conversation, her ears tuning in like a radar. She glanced at them, her eyes holding a mocking glint, as she smacked her lips together, the sound deliberately loud and clear. The gesture was a subtle yet effective way of intimidating them, making them shift uncomfortably in their shoes.
As she stood there, her gaze swept across the room, her thoughts clear and unapologetic. Did they really think that wearing high-class clothing showed they were more talented and more skilled? Pfft! The idea seemed laughable to her, a notion born of superficiality and pretension. She knew her worth, and it wasn't defined by the clothes she wore or the way she drank.
Even with her glares, the girls didn't stop with their taunts and mockery, slightly irritating Wren. They seem to want to provoke her, and make her cause a scene. She was about to approach them, and show them who they were messing with.
But
Just before she could approach the taunting girls, someone approached her first.
A tall blonde guy with the prettiest emerald green eyes she had ever seen. His eyes sparkled like gemstones in the dim light of the hall, and his smile was angelic and cool, swooning the girls around him. His features were chiseled, with high cheekbones and a sharp jawline, giving him a striking appearance that commanded attention. He wore a sleek black tuxedo that fit him perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders and lean physique.
As he approached Wren, his eyes held a mixture of curiosity and mischief, and his smile seemed to hint at a secret joke. "Hey, newbie," he commented, his voice cold yet deliberate, with a hint of a drawl that added to his charm. Wren licked her lips, moisturizing them as she replied, "Hey." Her voice was neutral, without much enthusiasm, but her eyes sparkled with interest.
She wasn't a person who was fond of talking to unfamiliar people that much. Well, only if they struck up the conversation first. That was why instead of heading out to mingle, she had rather come to the food section. Because mostly people would definitely come by, and she was confident in her beauty and aura that one or two would definitely strike up a conversation, especially the boys. And it seemed like her plan was set in motion.
As she gazed at the blonde guy, she noticed the way his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, and the way his hair fell across his forehead in a messy, stylish way. He seemed like the type of guy who knew his effect on people, and was comfortable with the attention. Wren's eyes met his, and for a moment, they just stared at each other, the air between them charged with anticipation.
"I wanted to ask your name," the guy continued, trying to charm his way to her heart with a disarming smile. Wren, however, remained neutral to such tricks, her expression unreadable. She played along, intrigued by the guy's audacity, but also wary of his intentions. Although she was blunt to such charms, she also wanted a backer, and she wasn't stupid enough to be one of those type of female leads in movies who, when approached, acted high and mighty for no particular reason.
"I'm Wren, Wren Williams," she replied, her voice even and measured. Her eyes locked onto Darnell's, searching for any sign of insincerity or ulterior motives. Darnell's eyes sparkled with interest as he repeated her name, his voice rolling off his tongue with a smooth cadence. "And yours?" Wren asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
"Darnell Hayes," he replied, his smile widening as he extended his hand. Wren took it, her handshake firm, and Darnell's grip was warm and solid. As they shook hands, Wren noticed the way Darnell's eyes crinkled at the corners, and the way his hair fell across his forehead in a stylish, tousled manner.
"Nice to meet you, Wren," Darnell said, his voice low and smooth. Wren smiled politely, her eyes never leaving his face. "Likewise," she replied, her tone neutral.