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I stabbed a knife into the bottom of a canned mojito and immediately brought the cold metal to my lips as a crowd surrounded me. Chilled, bubbly alcohol streamed down my neck and onto my bare chest before I caught the rest with my mouth.
The party was rolling, now.
I’d ditched my shirt, the music was bumping, and one of my best friends Callie had challenged me to shotgun this can.
I chugged it down easily. We were all out by my infinity pool and Callie was just as much of a beast with the canned mojito as I was.
“Done!” Callie called out just a second before I’d finished shotgunning my own canned mojito, and both of us threw down the cans as the rest of the people around us erupted into cheers.
The shimmering light of the pool cast everyone in a cool, blue light, and the ambient glow of the house spilled out through the long glass windows behind us.
This house was the best fucking party pad I’d ever been in, and it was way too cool knowing that it was my own.
“She’s got you beat!” someone called out and I just nodded.
“Callie never stood a chance against me back in college, but she’s got my ass now,” I said. I grabbed her hand and held it up in the air. “The true winner, Callie Winkler, ladies and gentlemen.”
I’d lost count of how many mojitos I’d had over the course of the night. I’d invited plenty of my old college friends, new friends I’d made along the way, and even some fans from Instagram.
Callie gave me a quick hug as the circle around us dissolved, and more people started jumping into the pool.
“I’m so glad you’re in town for good again,” Callie said. Her bright red hair was up in two buns, one on top of each side of her head, like a modified Princess Leia. “For the summer, at least. I missed you too fucking much when it was football season.”
“In college we couldn’t go a day without hanging out,” I told her. “I missed you all the time, too.”
“Did you see that guy by the pool earlier, wearing sunglasses?” Callie said, dipping closer to my ear to whisper. “Sunglasses at night. Like, has he not heard that song? Who actually does that kind of thing?”
I snorted. “I did see him. Do you know who he was?”
“One of Rocket’s friends,” Callie said. Rocket was another mutual friend from back in college. “Apparently he swings both ways, which means you and I can fight for his attention tonight.”
Ever since we’d met, Callie and I had discovered we had very similar taste in men. It had been cathartic for me to come out to her—and she was the first person I’d ever told, back in the early days of college.
She’d made it somethingfun, rather than something shameful. For a long time, she was the only person on Earth who knew I was gay.
“Sunglasses guy is all yours,” I said. “And no, I actually don’t have my eye on anyone yet.”
“Damn,” she said. “Usually you’d have started flirting with somewhere between one and four guys by this point in the night.”
“I know,” I said. “Is something wrong with me?”
“Must be.”
I stretched my arms above my head, still sore from the training earlier. “I tried talking to a couple of guys. One was so nervous to talk to me that he could barely string a sentence together, and then his boyfriend showed up and glared at me likeIwas the bad guy. Another guy was cute, but started talking nonstop about how much he hated football, and only liked me because he, and I quote, ‘thinks that I’m not like all of the other meathead players.’”
“Yikes,” Callie said. “What did you tell him?”
“That the ‘meatheads’ on the Denver Ferals team are my good friends, and that I needed to go grab another drink. I think he dipped out and left the party right after that.”
“His loss.”
The blaring rap song that had been on the speaker system came to an end, and over the stereo, something familiar started to play.
Ooga, ooga, ooga, chaka.
Ooga, ooga, ooga, chaka.
“Yes,” I whispered. Then, I let out my best party roar. “Let’sgo.”
