Page 3 of Elemasters

“Keep your voice down idiot. Unless you’re trying to out me to the entire school,” Dustin hissed, “and his name is Leo! It doesn’t even matter, I’m skipping it anyway,”

“I think the fuck not sir! You already missed Homecoming; your whole life can’t be swim training and jerking off. You only get one senior year… well, unless you’re Bobby Arrington, that is,” Chris gestured to the 20-year-old senior with a patchy beard just as he passed by them, “we’ve gotta make it count. Do it for me? Your beloved big bro?”

Dustin let out another sigh. He really would rather swim a few more laps after school and then head home to relax… but he also knew that Chris would never let him hear the fucking end of it if he didn’t go. The last thing he needed was to spend the rest of their lives being badgered about the time he didn’t go to the senior class bonfire; that was not the kind of story he wanted his future grandkids hearing about.

“Alright, fine. I’ll go, but only because you won’t fucking leave me alone about it,”

Chris broke into a wide grin.

“Why would I ever do that? Cradle to grave baby bro, cradle to grave,”

Dustin had heard that phrase from Chris a million times; it was supposed to be a way of cementing their bond. The fact that they’d known each other since the beginning, and they’d ride or die together until the end…

The unfortunate reality was that Chris usually said it to soften Dustin up before they engaged in truly unhinged behavior.

Hopefully this wouldn’t be one of those times; the last thing Dustin needed was to die at some stupid senior party he didn’t even wanna go to.

Then again, what was the worst that could happen? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d spent his night cleaning up Chris’s puke. Or being forced to serve as the DD because everyone was shitfaced but him.

Annoying? Yes. But ultimately survivable.

He’d just need to do what he always did, and the evening would pass quickly without any problems.

Take a deep breath, and endure.

Chapter 2

Six Feet Under the Stars

Dustin sat on the edge of his bed in a towel, glaring at the pile of rejected outfits scattered across his floor like casualties of war.

“This is dumb,” he muttered, mostly to himself, “it’s just a bonfire, not the goddamn Met Gala,”

“Which is the entire point. Everyone else will be more casual. It’ll make you stand out even more,” Bailey said, flouncing into his room with the kind of presence that demanded all the air within a five-mile radius. She was already fully dressed in a cropped varsity jacket over a rhinestoned mesh top and jeans so tight they might’ve been painted on.

Chris followed behind her, two duffel bags slung over his shoulder and a familiar, shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

“You should be thanking us little bro,” he said, dropping one of the bags on Dustin’s bed with a dramatic thud, “we're about to save you from the dark abyss of your hoodie collection,”

“I stared into the abyss, and when it stared back, I chose to wear it as clothing,” Dustin muttered, getting a cringe from both Bailey and Chris.

“Save that line for your VampireFreaks profile, but for the love of God don’t say anything like that at the party,” Bailey replied, grabbing a black leather jacket and tossing it at his head.

“You’re one to talk! What is this jacket? You trying to get me cast as an extra in One Tree Hill?”

“Oh please babe, when I’m done with you you’re gonna be way hotter than any extra,” Bailey said with a wink as she handed him a black tank top to wear underneath the jacket.

Dustin took the tank top with the enthusiasm of someone being handed a live grenade, but he still slipped it over his head and pulled the jacket on afterwards. Bailey stepped in with practiced ease to fuss with his sleeves and collar, tilting his chin up like she was checking for symmetry.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about. I’d kiss you if you weren’t, you know, you,”

Chris sat back on the bed, watching her with an amused tilt to his mouth.

“Careful,” he said, voice low and teasing, “you flirt like that too much and I might think you’ve got a thing for the Ying twins,”

Bailey glanced at him over her shoulder, one perfectly plucked brow arching.

“Please, Christian. I have standards,”