He nods, still grinning like an idiot. “Yeah, man. I live with a couple of the basketball guys, so we figured why not throw a rager?”
I chuckle and dig into the sink, which spilled up with ice and beers to create some kind of make shift cooler. I fish out the first can I lay my hand on, crack it open, and take a sip just as it happens.
I swear I smell her before I see her.
That unmistakable vanilla perfume that is way too sweet and way too strong. It’s the kind of scent that clings to your hoodie for six weeks after a one-minute conversation. And then, like a demon summoned from the ether, Lauren materializes at our sides with bloodshot eyes, skin shiny with sweat, and wearing a grin so wide it might crack her pretty face in half.
“Jakey!” she shrieks, her voice slicing through the party noise.
Internally, I groan.
Externally, I give her what I hope passes as a polite smile. “Lauren.”
Keith immediately scowls and turns back to his conversation like he’s trying to erase her with sheer willpower. Unfortunately, Lauren is fully locked onto me, swaying like she’s on a boat in open water.
Drunk? Definitely.
High? Probably.
“I’m so happy we get to work together again!” she yells, and then she throws her arms around me like we’re long-lost soulmates.
I’m not a hugger on a good day, and right now I’m halfway through a beer and clinging to the last shreds of my social battery. But she’s plastered, and I’m not about to shove her off me in front of a kitchen full of witnesses. So I just… pat her back awkwardly while Keith snickers like he’s watching a sitcom.
“Yeah,” is all I manage to say, because what the hell else can I say? She may be excited to “work together” again but I am, in fact, not excited to pick up her slack and deal with whatever drama she doles out.
She finally lets me go and claps her hands, bouncing up and down like she’s on a sugar high. Her tight-ass tank top leaves nothing to the imagination, and with the way she’s jumping, I’m genuinely concerned her tits are about to make a break for it. I stare at my beer like it can save me.
“It’s gonna beso fun!” she squeals.
I nod, but my smile is brittle at best. My face hurts from faking it, and I can feel the edges of my patience fraying like old velcro.
“So I was thinkin-”
“I have to piss,” I blurt, cutting her off.
Her eyes widen like I just proposed to her or told her I murder people for a living, and then she hits me with that smile. The one that’s supposed to be sexy but mostly looks like she’s really fucking constipated.
“Need help with that?” she asks, voice dropping into this low, gravelly attempt at bedroom talk.
Ew.“Um. With pissing?”
Keith chokes on his drink, not even trying to hide his laughter. Lauren glares at him, then turns her bloodshot stare back to me, completely unfazed.
“Maybe with… holding it,” she purrs.
Oh god no.That’s not even smooth. That’s not even coherent.
“Yeah, uh… I’m good,” I say quickly, already backing away like she’s contagious. “Enjoy the party.”
And then I bail. Fast. Because I’ve officially reached my limit, and I need to preserve the last five functioning brain cells I have if I want to survive morning skate without committing murder.
I push my way through the throng of sweaty, half-drunk bodies, dodging flailing arms and uncoordinated dance moves. I was using the “I have to piss” excuse to get away from Lauren, but turns out I actually do have to piss. And maybe stand alone in silence for five blessed minutes so I don’t commit a felony.
First bathroom I find? Occupied. Girl hunched over the toilet, puking like her soul is trying to escape through her mouth. I pause for half a second and feel a flicker of sympathy because she’s clearly having the worst night of her life but I’m not holding her hair. I have a strict no-vomit policy.
I keep moving, navigating through human chaos until I spot a set of stairs and decide to take my chances upstairs.
The first room I try is a bedroom. It’s surprisingly empty for a college party full of horny half drunk adults but no bathroomattached. Just clothes everywhere and the faint smell of weed. I shut the door and try the next one which happens to be locked.
