what: private beach party
place: eden’s house
attire: less is more
other: who’d miss a shindig thrown by hollywood’s hottest manager at his private beach? not anyone in their right mind, that’s for sure.
included: @mademoisellecharlotte

I got tired of writing before I could get around to one of Darcy's nameless hookups. :\ I'm just... not good at writing things like that, especially flirting, without making them cheesy as heck.

- - -

"Definitely an eight," Penny said, her eyes darting at a man - more a man's butt than anything - crossing the beach in front of us. The two of us had laid claim to a pair of fold-out chairs and were lying back, sipping martinis and boy-watching. Well, Penny was boy-watching. I was pretending to, but there were so many starlets and socialites prancing around in their bikinis or less that it was a bit hard to concentrate. Down, girl, I told myself. Even if this was a private party - Eden was a bit of a fame wh-re, but sometimes even he wanted to throw an event that was just for the elite, and not the paparazzi - word had a way of getting around. Checking out the rack on some Colombian supermodel would definitely look suspicious to the more gossipy among the party guests. (Although it was hard not to, when there were an alt-rock heartthrob and a renowned actor doing lines off said rack.)

"Um, yeah, eight..." I gave my rating half-heartedly. I could see where she was attracted to him, I guess - nice abs, the aforementioned butt, a strong jawline. Objectively, he was good-looking, in a boring leading-man kind of way. But what did I really know about male attractiveness?

"Jeez, Darce, you could at least try to sound interested." Penny stretched, arching her back and pushing her chest out for the guys who were watching us with interest from over by the bar. "I know you're still depressed about breaking up with Ethan, but..."

I rolled my eyes. "Penny, I couldn't care less about Ethan. Seriously. That's been over for ages."

She snorted. "Yeah, okay. Hey - speak of the devil."

Oh nooooo.

My ex-boyfriend was making his way towards us, action-star body on display. Too bad his body couldn't salvage his failing film career. Besides his Abercrombie-catalogue looks, Ethan had almost nothing going for him when it came to on-screen work. His acting was painfully wooden and he wasn't at all charismatic - except, of course, to the legions of teenage girls who worshipped his good looks and "devilish" grin (more like sleazy.)

"Long time no see, Darcy, Penny," he drawled, crossing his arms and leaning back in a pose that I guessed was supposed to be nonchalant.

Penny sprung to her feet. "I'm going to go get another drink."

You don't need another drink, I thought. She was already well and tipsy. She'd probably end up drunk-dialing Ryder again. But if I were her, I wouldn't want to stick around for this little reunion, either. Hell, I didn't want to be here for it. But I didn't want to be too rude, either - not that Ethan deserved my kindness. He was a douche, of the highest order.

Ethan watched her, and her Pucci bikini-clad assets, as they made their way back over to the bar. Then he turned back to me. "Darce, baby, I missed you."

"Yeah, er, it has been a while," I said lamely.

"Been pretty lonely without you, if you know what I mean." He raised an eyebrow. "Not that I don't enjoy being single and all the benefits, but, you know."

I groaned internally. He was trying to get back together with me. STILL. Even though it had been six months since we broke up. And it hadn't exactly been an exciting, whirlwind romance - the whole thing had been Brenda's idea in the first place. Date the Hollywood hunk, raise both your statuses that way. I would have been fine with just posing for the tabloids and kissing for the cameras, but Ethan wanted more. He was under the impression that being my publicity boyfriend meant he was entitled to the full relationship package, and that included the worst sex of my life. Think of the worst, most cliche-ridden X-rated video you've ever seen - that was Ethan in bed. Lots of grunting and "yeah, take it" and even if I'd been into that particular sort of anatomy, it still would have been completely unsatisfying.

"Ethan, I know what you're thinking, and I'm not interested," I told him, getting to my feet. "We're broken up. We've been broken up forever - we're not getting back together, okay?"


"It was only ever for the press, anyway." Maybe I was being cruel. But I was so sick of Ethan pursuing me with his skeezy lines and constant use of pet names. I just wasn't a pet name kind of girl. I wasn't an Ethan kind of girl, plain and simple.

"Come on, Darcy, don't..."

"Ethan, f-ck OFF." I snapped, turning on the heel of my wedge sandal and stalking away. Screw him. Screw every minute I'd wasted pretending to even like or tolerate him. There were plenty of rising stars he could attach himself to so he could cling to the last remnants of his career, but it sure as hell wouldn't be me.
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