I stood in a Bollywood-style costume, obediently serving drinks to the guests at the Thomas' party tonight. It was a big one; "everyone who's anyone is here," in the words of Mrs. Thomas.

"A champagne, please," a man probably two years older than I said quietly. I looked up and saw piercing blue eyes and defined cheekbones - this guy was fine. Not like it'd ever matter, the Thomas' would never let their best teen servant date, but he was hot.

"Coming right up," I mumbled, seeming to have lost my confidence. I poured too much and spilled the extremely expensive alcohol on myself. The man quickly got some napkins and began awkwardly dabbing my boob.

"That's enough," I said quickly. "Here's your drink. Enjoy the party." I pushed the mysterious man away and set to the task of cleaning my fancy shirt and preparing for Mrs. Thomas' scolding.