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And now, at Chuckie Fester’s house party, she was sober as a judge while Maisie was drunk as a skunk. Swaying her cup around as the contents sloshed over the sides.
When Birdie grabbed her sister by the upper arm, wrenching the Solo cup filled with a random mixture from the bottles found in the Fester’s liquor cabinet out of her hand, Maisie hissed, “What the fuck, Birdie?”
Her sister was dressed like one of those uppity sorority girls in college, wearing a very short, pink plaid skirt with a tight sweater, the color resembling the Pepto-Bismol in the medicine cabinet back at home.
Birdie wore a black grunge T-shirt with the words Guns and Roses printed around a yellow circle on the front, two pistols woven together with vines attached.
She bought it with her own money at the local thrift store.
In a rare moment, while looking for a place to pour the contents of her sister’s cocktail, she turned to find Lucas standing before her.
Birdie was tall for her age, but Lucas had grown a full head taller. Although Birdie possessed a chest the other girls in her class and the upper classes envied, to her, it was nothing compared to the broad expanse before her.
She imagined what was beneath that maroon Henley with a small tear near the armhole. Wondered what she might uncover if she could worm her finger into that hole and just keep tearing…
“Some of the guys on the team mentioned that you’re going to the Guns & Roses concert tonight.” The way he said it made her eyes widen, the rough edges of his voice giving her a delicious, full body shiver.
Lucas had become a football phenom, and the school’s star quarterback, making quite the impression on college recruiters, not to mention Birdie.
“What if I am?” She wasn’t, but she couldn’t chance him walking away. She had never seen him at a party for more than a minute or two. Likely so he could say that he had been there, and then leave.
He was a guy of few words and even fewer smiles, especially when it came to her, but every once in a while, when she pried one out of him, she felt like she was free-falling into a large, warm lake of Lucas Santos goodness.
“I don’t think you should go.”
Shit. No smile. He didn’t even bother to dredge up an angry expression.
“Why, you’ve got other plans for me?” Sauciness was her M.O., anything to get a rise out of him. Instead, he remained stoic.
In the corner of her eye, she watched Maisie follow one of her girlfriends toward the back of the house where most of the partygoers converged.
“I don’t think it’s in your best interest to go to a concert with the football team.” He crossed his arms over his chest and she almost swooned. Bicep porn. Pure and simple. Testing the confines of his shirt.
She centered herself and their conversation.
Football team? Concert? Where did he even get this crap?
Tonight, she had plans to go to Lainey’s house, just as soon as her friend was done molesting Chuckie, to study for their chem test.
Instead of correcting him, like any other emotionally stable teenager with a reputation to protect, she went with, “Why do you even care?” And then held her breath, half afraid of his response.
Please say you care. Please.
“I don’t.”
She sucked in her bottom lip, her tender heart crashing into the soles of her secondhand Doc Martens. “Well, you know what, Dookie Lukey? It’s been a while since I got… a good workout. The football team, a six-pack of Heineken, and a mind-blowing concert seems to be just what the personal trainer ordered.”
He glared down at her and she swallowed, wishing this conversation and all the others before it had gone a different way. One where they were shoving their tongues down each other’s throats rather than having stare downs.
As always, his expression was unreadable but the vibe was like shattered glass. He was royally pissed off but refused to show it.
To hell with him.
If she couldn’t get the response from him she craved, she’d opt for another. Any reaction would do at this point.
“If you’ll excuse me,” she said, breaking eye contact, her chest caving in. “I have a party and a concert to get through, as well as a football team.”
Fuck Santos and his less than stellar opinion of her. She didn’t know where the rumor originated that she was going to a concert with the football team, this late at night which logistically made no sense, but fuck him for believing it.
