Page 27 of Don’t Be A Stranger

“Dosha and I are gonna sing ‘360’ by Charli xcx.”

Oh, yeah, I can definitely hang out with these girls.

***

After thirty minutes, a couple more pop songs, and Moose and River’s beautiful duet of “Purple Rain,” I finally decide on the perfect song for my own little performance.

“Alright, hand it over.” I gesture for the microphone in River’s hand.

Moose and Bethany’s eyes go wide and they start cheering. In return, everyone else joins in. Yeah, there’s definitely alcohol snuck in here, but it’s fine. No one needs to know. In fact, we’re not even being that loud for anyone to suspect a thing.

I think.

My fingers tap along the screen of the table that rests near the wall where the projector shines a light on, showing lyrics to every song that’s been sung so far. I search up my song of choice and it only takes a few seconds for everyone to recognize the familiar guitar intro.

My singing to the intro of “Teenage Dirtbag” comes out closer to laughter more than anything, but everyone encourages me to keep going. I wonder if this is how pop stars feel ’cause I think I could let this go to my head. Consumed by the good vibes going around, I begin moving around the front of the room. The projector light nearly blinds me as I dance dramatically, as if this is my performance of a lifetime.

At this point, I’m not even trying to sing properly, I’m just shouting passionately into the mic. I’m sure people in nearby rooms can definitely hear me.

Now Jeanette and Bethany have their phones pointed at me, as they’ve been doing this entire time. They wave their arms in the air and I have to stop singing for a few lines. I’m not sure if my body is warm due to the alcohol, haphazardly moving around, or River’s electric smile. He’s watching me from his spot on the couch, amused, excited, and singing along.

The bridge grows closer and my confidence skyrockets. I walk toward River until I’m standing in front of him, the lyrics of the song spilling past my lips messily.

I raise the pitch of my voice slightly to mimic Brendan Brown’s voice during the bridge of the song. I rest my free hand on his thigh and lean over, not caring if my dress hangs low then abruptly drop to my knees, startling River and causing an eruption of laughter to fill the room. I slide my hand up the front of River’s shirt, barely tracing the tips of my fingers over his stomach.

River’s hands slightly shake on his thighs. It’s not beyond me what sort of reaction I’m pulling from River. I’m on my knees between his legs, with the top part of my cleavage on full display for him. I know what I’m doing and why I’m doing it.

I grin into the mic while toying with the keychain that is clipped to one of River’s belt loops, tugging at it before quickly pulling away and standing up to finish my dramatic performance with my ensemble. I point directly at River, who looks like he’s in a complete daze.

It’s nights like these that have me wondering if being with River would be so bad, after all.

Ten

River

Summer and I end the night how we started it—by eating food that’s probably not the best for us. But Summer and I are too tired and far too buzzed to care.

We’re both sitting with our backs against my headboard, shoes now discarded and my tie thrown somewhere in my room. Summer’s hair is falling out of her neatly done curls and her dress is wrinkled.

Both of us are sharing a bag of peach rings and sipping on our slushy flavors of choice. Cherry for Summer because she’s convinced that’s good on its own, and a mix of different flavors for me because I don’t lack taste.

“Okay,” I say with my mouth full of slushy. “Truth or truth?”

We decided Truth or Dare as our choice of game to end the night off but then realized that we’re both too exhausted to want to do any dares, and just doing truths wasn’t working out when we realized that we both know almost everything about each other. Which is no fun when we’re playing this game, so now we’re just asking dumb questions and answering them stupidly, on purpose.

“Truth.” Summer pops a peach ring into her mouth.

“Is it true that you have a foot fetish?” I begin but stop her from answering right away. “But specifically with feet dipped in whipped cream?”

“What?” Summer looks at me, wide-eyed. “Dude, that’s very specific. Are you sure that you shouldn’t be answering this question?”

“I mean, sure I can. I have nothing to hide.”

Summer gestures for me to continue. “Okay, then. What’s your answer?”

I tap my chin and think about it for a moment, wanting to prolong the anticipation. “I’d say it’s in the top five of my kinks.”

“Oh my god,” Summer cackles. “Are you serious?”