Look at them.They need alien boyfriends. Theydeservealien boyfriends. And more importantly, I deserve to watch my friends find happiness on a high-definition drone feed while living in a Suevan mansion with my own big-dicked hottie.
Looooove this journey for me. I let out a low laugh, but everyone’s already too tipsy to notice my cackle.
"You know," Lucy says, tipping her glass back, "if the fucking Suevans had openings for more wives, I’d probably take them up on it."
"God, they’re so hot, right?" I gush, aggressively topping off Lucy's glass, then Ellison's, then Lily’s. I am the puppet masterof hydration tonight. "And what about the Draegon species? Have you guys seen the Federation data leak? They’re built like literal mountains. Broad chests, wings, and apparently, they have this whole biological instinct where they physically cannot leave a female unsatisfied. That may or may not be a rumor."
“I read that fanfic,” Ell yells through the kitchen.
"At this point, I’d take a Roth over a human man," Lily mutters, reaching into a bowl of Swedish Fish and dropping a red one into her glass. "At least they’re hot. Heh. Get it? Get it? Because they burn stuff?"
"I’m not into getting burned alive," Ellison snorts, tossing a Swedish Fish at the television screen. It bounces off the glass and plops directly into the quickly defrosting frozen margarita pitcher.
"Going for a swiiiiiim!" Lucy sings out in a deeply unhinged voice. "Little fishies in the seaaaa!"
By the time we hit pitcher number six, the living room is tequila-soaked chaos. Tortilla crumbs dust the coffee table like confetti. Congealed queso blobs keep the Swedish Fish company, and Lily is currently trying to scoop a spilled splash of margarita off the carpet with a tortilla chip.
"Five second rule," Lucy cheers her on.
"Alcohol kills everything," Lily says, swallowing the carpet-queso-lime mixture with zero regrets.
I’m not sure that’s true, but I’m not about to be the party pooper.
Nope. I’m the designated party popper.
My heart is pounding, adrenaline-fueled excitement racing through my veins. The time is now. My girlies are perfectly primed for my pitch.
I swallow hard, guilt surfacing through the tequila like a ship trying to brave a storm at sea. This might not play out the way I want.
But it’s for their own good, isn’t it?
And mine too, of course.
I nod to myself, shoving those second thoughts back down to the deep where they belong.
"Look, look, lookity look!" I scream, stamping my marabou feather heel onto the floor. The tuft of fluff wobbles dramatically.
I love it.
"Fucking hell, Poppy," Lily winces, holding her head. "We’re all right hereeee. You don’t… don’t have to yell. It’sss too loud."
“I’mglaaaaddyallrestayinniiiight!!!” Ell slurs.
"Ell is shit-faced," Lily announces to the room with the tone of a proud new parent.
I ignore them both, leaning over the table like a drunken, sexily-clad drill sergeant. "We’re doing this," I say, my tongue tripping over the words just a little bit. Tequila makes the fraud smoother anyway.
"Doing what?" Ell asks. She’s always game.
"I found a reality show that needs contestants," I say breathlessly, pulling my phone out of my negligee.
"It better not be a survival one," Lucy squeaks, her hair a dark mop around her head. "You know we’d be the first kicked off. The only thing I’m prepared to survive is a shopping trip to Costco."
"Speak for yourself," Ellison slurs, pointing a finger at the ceiling. "I won best archer at camp. I am great with a bow and arrow."
"When you were tweeeeeelve," Lucy argues, blinking slowly. "You literalllllyyyyy bring that up every time you drink.."
"Shhhhhh!" I press my finger to my lips, staring them down with the fiercest, most radioactive optimism I can muster. "This important. Isss important." I stamp my foot again, my slipper fluff nodding in agreement. "I’m signing us all up. For this show."
