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With his longer brown hair and the polo shirt he’s sporting, he looks a little like Rob Lowe and there’s not a doubt in my mind the girls will be all over him tonight.
“What is it?” I ask, grabbing the cup.
“Jack and Coke,” Marcus answers. He’s wearing a tank top, chino shorts, and deck shoes, and his curly hair is slicked back from his shower.
“Nice.” I nod in approval. It’s my go-to party drink. Goes down smoothly and gives me a nice buzz.
Unlike Cal who will meet as many girls as he can tonight,Marcus will spend his night looking for the one that will become his go-to for the summer. He doesn’t like sleeping around. He’s a creature of habit and likes to know what he’s getting.
“Ready for tonight?” I ask after taking a drink. The carbonation of the coke tickles my tongue, as the whiskey works down my throat, warming my chest.
“Yeah,” he grins, “beyond ready.”
“Well…” I hold up my cup. “Let’s do this, yeah?”
“Fuck yeah!” Jake grips my shoulder and holds up his cup. He’s still wearing his swim trunks and has on a Hawaiian shirt.
“To tonight!” Cal and Marcus say in unison, and the four of us tap our cups together.
After knocking back the first drink, Cal makes us another. When we’re half-way through them, the doorbell rings.
“Well, gentlemen.” He waggles his brows. “Let the games begin!”
We all chug our drinks, and then make our way to the front door.
After the first group of guests arrive, they’re followed by another, and then another. I greet each with a nod for those I don’t know, a shoulder to shoulder handshake for those I do, and before I know it, the party is well underway.
When I told the guys we wouldn’t have to tell anyone about the party, they were skeptical. But I insisted, with the amount of alcohol we bought at the market, and the keg run in town, word would get out—and I’d been right. Everywhere I looked there were people. Some I knew, others I did not, but the vibe was good, and I even found myself laughing with a few of my former Elmhurst teammates.
When the doorbell finally stops ringing, I make my way over to the entertainment center and load it up with enough music to last a couple of hours. When I’m satisfied the mix is one that will keep the energy up and mood carefree, I turn around andcheck out the scene. Everyone is having a good time, including my brothers who are chatting up a horde of girls.
Just as I’m about to take a sip of my drink to congratulate myself on a job well done, the song changes, and I see Ellery walk in, steps falling in line with the slow toll bell of “Hells Bells.” What the fuck is she doing here, and why is that douchebag Royce Richardson with her?
I storm toward the door and when I pass Jake, he glances over his shoulder. When he sees who I am headed for, he cuts short whatever he’s saying to the brunette he’s talking to and follows me.
“Hey, All American,” Royce greets me with a high five. “What’s up, man?”
I leave him hanging and focus my attention on Ellery. “What are you doing here?”
A girl standing next to her wearing fishnets and maroon Doc Martens looks from Ellery to me and smiles. “This is a party, no?”
She’s vaguely familiar and I can’t remember where I’ve seen her before, but it doesn’t matter. I ignore the comment and look back to Ellery, who’s scanning the room with feigned interest.
“Well?” I press.
“We heard this was going to be the social event of the season,” she answers boredly. “Figured, why not?”
She keeps her eyes on the room for another moment, then turns her attention to me and my stomach plummets the moment our eyes meet.
“So you three came together?” Jake asks, looking from Royce to Ellery then the girl standing next to her.
“God no.” She rolls her eyes, which are so heavily lined with charcoal it nearly swallows their color. “He ran into us outside.”
Ellery laughs slightly and Royce is too busy staring at her legs to notice. Figuring it wouldn’t be a good thing to get arrested forgrabbing his head with both hands, and gouging his fucking eyes out with my thumbs, I clear my throat, and he looks up.
“So they came here together and you tagged along?” I ask, wanting him to see the look of warning in my eyes. It’s the same one I’d given him dozens of times in high school. He knew what it meant. Everyone did—back the fuck off.
“Something like that,” he straightens.
