…
We dumped our stuff at the house we are staying at, bunch of bags half-open, clothes everywhere, and now we are here.
At the party. The actual party.
The second we step into the backyard, we get punched in the face by bass and humidity.
People everywhere. Loud music. Someone is already doing pushups on a speaker. Lorenzo appears out of nowhere. Holding four drinks in both hands. "I GOT THEM!" he yells over the music, eyes shining.
"They're disgusting and flammable! Drink up!" He shoves a glass into Noah's chest. Then Gio's. Mine. Keeps one for himself.
Gio sniffs his. "Why does it smell like cough syrup?"
"Because it's liquid destiny, now SHUT UP and raise your cup!" Lorenzo replies.
We huddle in a crooked circle. Lorenzo steps into the middle. Shirt unbuttoned. Wearing sunglasses. At night. He holds up his shot, serious as hell. "Gentlemen," he says, voice deep like he's about to knight us, "after tonight… I hope we wake up alive." Pause. "And I pray to every god in existence…that we're not waking up in France."
I snort. Noah leans in, raising his glass. "And if I wake up next to someone ugly, may I at least have no memory of it."
"And may the CCTV footage be fucking merciful," Gio adds.
I smile. "To us," I say.
We all clink glasses. And we drink.
Two hours later
The music gets louder. It's 3AM and Gio has completely lost his mind. There’s a freaking circle forming in the middle of the garden. Bodies pushing back. Cups lifted. Voices rising. And in the middle, him.
His shirt is gone, bottle in hand, already yelling and breathing heavily. "WATCH ME OUTDRINK THIS BRAIDED FREAK!"
Across from him, there’s…a girl. Sharp jawline, braids, nose ring. She steps forward. "I've seen toddlers handle their juice better than you, sir."
Gio laughs. Loud. Disrespectful. He licks his lips, turns to the crowd. "We got a dead bitch walking!"
Everyone LOSES IT. They sit down cross-legged, face to face, one shot glass each. Two bottles between them. People start chanting their names. The first shot slams.
Then the second. Third. By the fourth, they are both leaning in, sweat on their temples, insults flying in every direction. The girl yells at him. "I drink bitches like you for warmup!" "Sit the fuck down, woman, your liver's gonna tap out before your fake lashes do."
The tough Gio is WASTED!! So wasted it's hilarious. The fifth shot hits. The sixth. Gio wipes the alcohol from his mouth with the back of his hand.
"What's next? You pass out and I carry your pride home, asshole?" She keeps talking, gagging a little.
"Try touching my pride and I'll make sure your mascara runs for days, freak."
People scream and laugh. It is a warzone with alcohol. I am standing off to the side, not fully understanding what the hell is happening. Gio's pupils are blown. The girl sways.
Then, after a couple more shots…SPLASH.
She throws up. Everywhere.
On her hands. Her shirt. The floor. Gio stands up instantly, arms raised like a gladiator. "GET. FUCKED!" Then leans in, yelling in her face. "YOU THOUGHT, BITCH. YOU FUCKING THOUGHT!"
People jump. Drinks fly. Someone lights a flare. I just stand there, holding a half-empty cup, staring at Gio.
And in that moment, I swear…I want to kiss him and punch him and maybe marry him at the same fucking time. I’m still breathing like I’ve run a marathon. Gio is still in full gladiator mode, bottle in hand. Yelling and laughing nonstop.
The girl is still half-collapsed next to a bush, complaining that it was unfair since she already had many drinks. Gio still gives her middle fingers. "STAY DOWN, YOU COWARD!"
