Moose is covered in paint, making him glow brighter in the dark. That and he asked Preston to draw a dick on the back of his white shirt, so he’s kind of been hard to miss all night.
“Come on, Callahan!” Moose shouts. “Drink with me!”
He slurs his words and I don’t know why he decided to drink so much when I told him that Denise is bringing her friends tonight. He kept talking to me about how he’s interested in thegirl with bangs—Bethany—and I offered to try and set something up.
I’m honestly not exactly sure why he decided that a drawing of a dick would do the job of charming Bethany but hey, it’s his love life.
I make conversation with whoever comes over to me. I laugh and fuck around with my friends but I keep sliding my phone out, checking the time.
Nine-fifteen.
I’ve noticed that Denise likes to arrive almost everywhere fashionably late, but I can’t complain too much when she does show up looking like a meal I’d like to consume.
Moose tries to offer me yet another drink.
“Nah.” I shake my head. “I don’t really want to throw up on the lawn again.”
Moose shrugs his shoulders and leans back on the couch, throwing his legs onto the coffee table and kicking a few cups off. People sitting nearby roll their eyes.
“So, this Bethany chick? You think she’ll like me?”
I nod my head, not having the heart to tell him that he might have just thrown his chances out the window before even getting a chance to try and score.
My eyes catch on Preston, who just finished throwing back five shots in a row. The girl whose arms are wrapped around his waist don’t belong to Grace and I can’t help but roll my eyes.
Jesus Christ, this fucking guy.
Choosing to ignore the terrible choices of my best friend, my eyes go back to the front door behind me, only to sigh when there’s still no sign of Denise.
I eventually let Moose guide me around the party, merely because I can’t sit still, otherwise I’m just going to keep looking at my phone and the front door. We end up joining in on a gameof beer pong, when a few girls come up to us with fresh paint on their hands.
One is quick to lift Moose’s shirt up, resting her open palm on his stomach. Her friend turns to me and tries to do the same thing but I’m quick to gently catch her wrist, making sure to keep an easy smile on my face.
“Don’t think my girl would appreciate that very much.”
The words leave my lips before I can stop them but when I do catch what I just said, I realize I not only said it to this random girl but with Moose right next to me.
He grins. “You heard him, ladies. Hands off.”
I let go of the girl’s wrists, nodding my head as they look at each other before walking away. I don’t feel bad for brushing the girl off when she’s already leaving her handprint on some other random guy.
“Does Denise know you guys are official?” Moose chuckles. “Or do you just plan on telling her when you kidnap her on your wedding day?”
I grab one of the many bottles of paint lying around and squirt some onto my hand. I slap his cheek. Not hard enough for him to feel the need to do it back but enough for him to get the point.
“I’m working on it,” I grumble more to myself, not bothering to speak over the music.
Moose slaps his hand on my back, gesturing behind me. “Speaking of your girl.”
He barely gets to finish his sentence before my entire body whips around, eyes desperately scanning the all-too-crowded party.
Denise is standing on the other side of the living room, near the kitchen. She, Sarah, and Bethany are already busying themselves with painting each other’s faces and breaking light sticks to put them around their wrists and necks.
She doesn’t even bother to look around the party, perfectly content with just Sarah and Bethany’s company. Instead of worrying about anyone else around, she’s focused on decorating her friends’ faces with paint.
Moose stumbles up to me, hand slapping my shoulder. “Okay, wingman. I’m ready to charm the pants off Bethany.”
He begins to go on about how hot she looks in her skintight white dress, polka dots now painted messily on the fabric—her hair braided in pigtails, or how cute she looks when she smiles. But I don’t care. My focus is on Denise.
