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It did seem, however, that the central house was the main hub of entertainment. It was the one that the Lost Boys parked in front of in a space that felt suspiciously like it had been reserved for them.
As we walked inside, I recognized faces from school, kids everywhere holding red plastic cups and moving their bodies to the music that sounded even louder now.
The other thing I noticed quickly was how much skin was on display. It was everywhere.
I would’ve felt overdressed if it weren’t for the fact that I had on a pair of cut-off shorts made from custom tailored jeans and a crop top that I’d fashioned out of one of my old shirts—my outfit was still tame compared to some girls, but at least I didn’t stand out too badly.
When I’d stepped out of the bedroom, Bishop had said I had a surprisingly good figure for a little rich girl. I was still trying to figure out what that was supposed to mean as we made our way through the house, the Lost Boys flanking me as if they dared anyone to cross my path or even look at me funny.
No one did. It was almost comical—and maybe it was due to the copious amounts of alcohol being consumed—but people actually said hello to me. Jovial, red faces grinned or nodded in my direction, Solo cups were lifted up in cheers, and the Lost Boys were greeted with the respect I was sure they’d spent years earning.
I was grateful for the fact that we moved quickly through the main section of the house, not lingering too long. It was the loudest and most chaotic area, and honestly, we’d been at the party less than five minutes and my ears had already started hurting. Instead of mingling with the “common folk”, as Misael playfully muttered into my ear, we headed toward the “VIP section”.
I had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but I was pretty sure there wouldn’t be champagne in crystal flutes in that section either.
The VIP section was downstairs, in the basement, away from the heated gyrating of half-naked girls on boys with lustful interest in their eyes. There was still music down here, but at least the volume was tolerable, and on the couch situated in front of an old-school, big-backed television, sat Liam and Jessica. They were locked in a make-out session to rival anything I had seen upstairs, Liam’s hands at Jessica’s
hips as she sat straddling his waist. I had the decency to blush, but the shock kept me looking. The Lost Boys didn’t even blink.
“Hey. You knew we were coming, you degenerates,” Bishop said, giving the couch a kick as he laughed.
Misael gave a wolf whistle, plopping down onto the couch while Jessica climbed off Liam’s lap. She rolled her eyes, adjusting her top back into place to cover her bra, but Liam actually looked a little embarrassed. I would be, too, if my friends had just burst in on… that.
I took the chair beside where Misael ended up, Bishop taking a chair opposite me. Kace didn’t sit at all, instead choosing to stand off to Bishop’s side. He looked the least affected by the scene; I wondered if he even cared about being at a party to begin with, with how bored he seemed to be about the whole thing.
Jessica leaned over toward me, smirking. The red lipstick she wore hadn’t even smeared during her heavy make-out session. I was impressed.
“I see they dragged you out for this little shindig. Hope it’s not too overwhelming. Somehow, I doubt uptown parties are like this.”
“Uh… no, it’s not overwhelming,” I lied. “It’s just… different? I’m not sure what I should be doing, to be honest.”
“Whatever you want!” She laughed. “Aren’t you used to doing that?”
I snorted softly. “No. Not like how you’re thinking anyway. Most of the parties I’ve been to weren’t for, you know, drinking and dancing and stuff. Most of the time it was for business.”
Jessica groaned. “Boooring. What kinda people throw parties for business?”
“Rich people?” I offered. She cocked her head, eyeing me for a second before seeming to realize I was just joking. Then she laughed again.
“Fair enough. C’mon, loosen up! I’m glad the guys invited you. You gotta relax and let your hair down a little—show those fuckers up there you’re not just some stuck up rich bitch.”
She stood and walked across the room, and when she looked back at me expectantly, I realized she wanted me to follow her. I got up too, shooting a glance over my shoulder at the guys and Liam. They were already engrossed in a conversation, but Bishop looked up and gave a slight nod, which I took to mean I was allowed to go with Jessica.
I followed her to a little makeshift bar that consisted of a long length of plywood set on top of two kegs. A row of coolers sat underneath that setup, and Jessica reached inside one to grab two drinks—wine coolers, I was pretty sure they were called. They were more friendly looking than the beers I’d shared with the guys at the warehouse. The bright colors made them look more like punch than booze. She popped them open and handed me the electric green one, keeping the pink one for herself.
I eyed the label. Green apple. Sounded a lot better than a lager. My suspicions were confirmed when I tipped it back. Sourness hit my tongue first, followed by a strong, sweet apple taste that made me smack my lips.
“Good shit, huh?” Jessica asked with a smirk. “They’re my go-to drink at these things. Takes longer to really get smashed. Means you enjoy more, ironically.”
“I thought the point with these things was to get smashed?”
“Nah, ’cause then you can’t remember anything. Where’s the fun in that? Not like that’ll stop the people upstairs from getting smashed. But whatever. They have fun, hopefully they don’t break too much shit, they come back for more next time—as the hostess, it works out well for me.”
I took another sip of the wine cooler, enjoyed the sweet fizz on my tongue. “Why is that so good for you?”
She arched a brow. “Oh, come on now. You of all people should understand the power of social standing. People know they can have a good time here. If people like you, like what you do for them, they’re more likely to do things for you too.”
“So… these aren’t really your friends? Like everyone that’s here?”
