I skimmed my palms across my thighs, which were clad in denim despite my mother’s insistence that I should wear a dress to the party. My saving grace was her dresses were too frumpy, and my younger sister’s dresses were too small. Anyway, the only person I was ever trying to impress was Denver, and he told me constantly how much he loved my ass in this particular pair of vintage Levi’s.
Hands clasped, we entered the party house. It was immediately evident that, unlike parties in our younger years, Megan’s parents weren’t around. A group of boys were playing beer pong on the dining table, there was already a questionable substance splattered across one of the living room walls, and empty cans littered every available surface. Wells Canyon had forty-six graduates, and there had to be over a hundred teenagers here.
Spotting Cassidy and Shelby in the far corner, I squeezed Denver’s hand. “I’m going to go see the girls. Come find me in a little while.”
“Okay, baby.” He bent to kiss me, then slowly untangled his fingers from mine and headed for the kitchen.
I wove through drunken bodies in the spacious, open-concept living room until nearly collapsing at my friends’ feet.
“Who needs a house this big? I almost had to stop for a snack and nap halfway to get to you guys.” I grabbed Cassidy’s cup and took a sip of the sugary concoction before handing it back.
“Considering Megan’s parents don’t even speak to each other, having a house so big you never bump into each other is probably useful.” Shelby shrugged.
“I think my entire house could fit into this living room.” Cass held her cup to her lips without drinking, surveying the space. The three of us stood silently for a second, considering whether Cass was right.
“My girls!” Megan barreled toward the three of us. Personally, I hadn’t been invited to any of the parties she’d thrown in years.But okay, apparently we were her girls.“Can you believe we graduated?”
“About time.” Cassidy clinked her plastic cup against Megan’s.
“Blair,” Megan said with a bone-chilling shrillness. “Your speech today was so good.”
“Thanks. It was pretty nerve-wracking, so I’m glad it’s finally over.”
“You deserve a celebratory drink.” Megan grabbed my hand, pulling me away from my friends and toward a group of people I’d never seen before. Shoving our way between two unnaturally tall boys standing at the kitchen island, she instructed one of them to pour us shots.
“Oh, I don’t—” I started to protest, but Megan shoved the shot glass into my hand and clinked it against hers.
Liquor and Blair Hart had never gotten along. A glass of wine, a beer, a cooler—manageable. Hard liquor? One shot and I’d be singing Reba McEntire without music or a karaoke machine. Two shots and I’d start spewing the most embarrassing stories to anyone who would listen. I’d never done three shots before, but I assumed that much alcohol would likely kill me.
But Megan kept chanting “graduation” at the top of her lungs, so I did the second shot of tequila. Then a third in less than five minutes. Megan and the boys, who I found out were graduating from Sheridan High, were awfully convincing with their little chants, drumrolls, and cheering.
Damn peer pressure will get you every time.
The taller of the two, who Megan referred to as Jer-Bear, smelled like bananas. And he had the hots for Megan. That much I could tell despite how glassy my vision had become.
“My boyfriend calls me Blair Bear.” I beamed at him as he poured another round. “Also, we should be besties because you’re very good at making drinks.”
He laughed, sliding a glass over to me, and half the liquid sloshed over the side. I frowned dramatically at him. “Okay…maybe not so great, after all.”
When the effects of the last shot of tequila hit me, I was astonished that I felt relatively okay. Stumbling? Definitely. A little incoherent? For sure. But I needed to find Denver and proudly show him how well his girlfriend could handle heralcohol. Three and a half shots of tequila, and living to tell the tale.
I found him sitting outside in an Adirondack chair, talking to a couple guys we graduated with. Mid-conversation, I interrupted by sliding into his lap and open-mouth kissing him.
“You okay?” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You taste like you’ve been drinking tequila.”
“Ta-kill-ya,actually. That’s what Jer-Bear called it.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused rather than threatened by the mention of a strange guy. “Who the hell is Jer-Bear?”
“Some guy from Sheridan. That’s what Megan called him. I never did ask if the Jer is short for Jeremy or Jared…. Oh, maybe he’s a Jerome. Gerry with aG?” I started to stand up. “You know, I should go ask him. This is going to bug me if I don’t know.”
“Actually”—Denver grabbed hold of my wrist—“we should probably get you home.”
I groaned like a petulant child, but followed behind him out of the party, dragging my feet as we walked down the road to his truck.
“Remind me to text Megan tomorrow and ask about Jer-Bear’s name.” I pointed a finger at Denver as he opened the passenger door and boosted me into the seat.
“Of course, baby.”
