Scott leans forward, drinking from a red solo cup. “Doing what?”
He’s challenging her. Being a cocky prick, but I let it slide as I take a seat and look up at her. She’s dressed in that Seattle fucking t-shirt with loose jeans, and when we were on our way here, I watched her apply lip gloss that smelled like Starbursts. She has bracelets and necklaces. Her hair’s down, brassy and wavy. I don’t think she’s wearing any makeup as I wait for her to respond to Scott. She doesn’t skip a beat.
“Well, Lily is on her fifth first date this month. Alix is organizing her purses by color instead of keeping them in alphabetical order. Mira is at her acting classes because she works full-time and can only take classes on the weekend. My photographer, Crystal, has two kids and a husband, so she couldn’t make it. Marina, Rose, and Madeline are going to a frat party on campus, which I confused with this party, so they’ll be there and not here.”
I bubble with laughter as the guys watch Cecily. They’re taking her seriously, but she’s just fucking with them.
Westley chokes on his drink. “Wait, what?”
Scott scoffs as his eyebrows shoot up. “You invited your friends to the wrong party?”
I shake my head with a smile. “Marina, Rose, and Madeline aren’t… We go to the same gym.”
Scott says, “So, what. Tell them to come here instead.”
Cecily holds in a laugh as she sits next to me on the couch. Then she offers Scott a mischievous smile.
I blurt, “Nope. No fucking way. They’re not invited.”
Cecily laughs.
I continue, “Marina has a staring problem, and this one,” I point at Cecily, “told her to ask me out.”
Rocky laughs while Westley smiles. Scott shakes his head, taking a swig of his drink.
Scott says to Cecily, “Oh, so you’re not fucking Dylan?”
Cecily laughs, confirming, “I’m not fucking Dylan.”
I shake my head. “We’re just friends.”
“So, dibs then?” Scott questions while staring at Cecily. Everyone’s quiet for that second, and the air is thick enough to slice.
I lean back, looking at Cecily as she stares at Scott and says, “I’m not something you can call dibs on or claim, so no.”
Rocky whistles, and Westley, to my surprise, laughs.
Scott saves face, but I know that hurt his ego. “We’ll see about that by the end of the night.”
I’m about to change the subject when Scott continues, “I didn’t know your little friend here was coming to the party, so I invited––”
“No,” I groan. “No, you fucking didn’t.” My gut twists. Did he actually invite Layla or Viv, or is he just fucking with me? Because if he did invite either of them, I’m considering flying a puck at his face during the next practice.
Scott raises his red solo cup. “Yes, I fucking did. You need to get laid.”
I shake my head. “I talked to you about this, Scotty. I need a fucking break.”
Scott snickers. “You expect me to believe you’re taking a break from pussy? Nobody needs a break from that, unless…” He looks at Cecily.
I lean forward, keeping my eyes on his. “Yes, I’m fucking serious. I can’t believe you invited––” I blow out hot air out offrustration. “Keep whoever it is away from me. I volunteer your dick as tribute.”
Rocky laughs, drinking his beer. Westley, too.
Scott says, “My dick is not volunteering to fuck your sloppy seconds.”
He stands up and walks to the table with the liquor just as the front door of the house opens. More guys from the hockey team pile in, laughing about something as they open the sliding glass door.
“Who’s ready to fucking party!” Russell shouts.
