could practically still taste the vomit in my mouth.
Jessica disappeared immediately, her bunny tail bouncing as she clicked down the hall toward the kitchen, scanning the room with predatory skill. Robin went left, swallowed into a crowd of sexy referees and slutty cheerleaders. Kylie took my hand and said, “Let’s get a drink.” She started weaving across the sea of bodies clad in a wide range of costumes from Edward Scissorhands to Mario.
I never really understood the girls-holding-hands-at-parties thing. Kylie was very fond of doing it, and while I suspected it was a confidence booster, a sign to everyone that she had a friend at her back, she insisted it was for my safety. But I also thought the trend was some kind of attention-getting faux-lesbian signal to guys.
Hey, look at us. We’re good friends and we hold hands . . . get us drunk and we might make out for you
. It made me uncomfortable. Because I was never going to make out with Kylie, and because I didn’t think that we needed to throw out sexual promises and innuendos to guys to get attention.
But then again, who was a virgin and who wasn’t? Who could have a boyfriend if she wanted, and who spent her time with books and shelter dogs?
Yeah.
Besides, I knew she was feeling insecure about her banana, so I held Kylie’s hand and obediently followed her to the keg, deciding I wouldn’t mind a beer after all.
“OMG, look at the keg, that’s awesome.” Kylie pulled a plastic cup off the stack and filled it with the spout of beer shooting up out of the toilet the guys had perched on top of the keg. It was like a frat boy bidet.
Charming.
Praying that toilet had never been used in any capacity other than as a makeshift beer bong, I filled a cup for myself and took a sip of the flat, cheap beer and tried not to sigh.
Half an hour later, I still had two-thirds of my beer, and I was standing there feeling bored and self-conscious. Kylie had long ago abandoned my hand, and she was fending off the third guy to try to unpeel her banana, his hand teasing on her zipper while she laughed and swatted at his wrist. Nathan was across the room, looking bitter and miserable, wearing a flight suit and aviator sunglasses. Every three seconds he glanced over at Kylie, while still maintaining a firm grip on a girl in a gingham crop top and Daisy Dukes. There was clearly some dynamic going on between Nathan and Kylie that I really didn’t want to be in the middle of, some pheromone-driven power struggle.
One of the curls was tugged on the back of my head, and I turned around to see Tyler standing behind me. He was wearing jeans and a Metallica T-shirt. “Nice costume,” I said, feeling both relieved to see him and nervous at the same time.
“I’m a Muggle,” he told me with a completely straight face.
Of course he was. “Oh, yeah? No letter inviting you to Hogwarts, huh? That sucks.”
“My parents were disappointed, but I still have my magic wand so it’s all good.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re gross.”
He laughed. “What are you supposed to be? My mom at her prom in 1988?”
“No. I’m a toddler with a tiara.” I pointed to my head and the crown.
Reaching out, he pulled the sash out straight so he could read it. “Miss Diagnosed?” He grinned. “Rory, you fucking crack me up.”
I smiled. “At least you get it. I’ve had like three people tell me they’re totally confused.”
“Your premed wit is on display, babe. Though you don’t look like any toddler I’ve ever seen.”
“Too tall?”
“Among other things.” He took my drink out of my hand and sipped it, then made a face. “Piss water. Come on, let’s go out back. I have a stash of real beer under my jacket. Brandon’s watching it.”
I had no idea who Brandon was, but I really had no desire to stay in the crowded house and feel superfluous, so I let him take my hand and lead me across the room. Apparently my hand was in high demand tonight. Tyler unceremoniously
Jessica disappeared immediately, her bunny tail bouncing as she clicked down the hall toward the kitchen, scanning the room with predatory skill. Robin went left, swallowed into a crowd of sexy referees and slutty cheerleaders. Kylie took my hand and said, “Let’s get a drink.” She started weaving across the sea of bodies clad in a wide range of costumes from Edward Scissorhands to Mario.
I never really understood the girls-holding-hands-at-parties thing. Kylie was very fond of doing it, and while I suspected it was a confidence booster, a sign to everyone that she had a friend at her back, she insisted it was for my safety. But I also thought the trend was some kind of attention-getting faux-lesbian signal to guys.
Hey, look at us. We’re good friends and we hold hands . . . get us drunk and we might make out for you
. It made me uncomfortable. Because I was never going to make out with Kylie, and because I didn’t think that we needed to throw out sexual promises and innuendos to guys to get attention.
But then again, who was a virgin and who wasn’t? Who could have a boyfriend if she wanted, and who spent her time with books and shelter dogs?
Yeah.
Besides, I knew she was feeling insecure about her banana, so I held Kylie’s hand and obediently followed her to the keg, deciding I wouldn’t mind a beer after all.
“OMG, look at the keg, that’s awesome.” Kylie pulled a plastic cup off the stack and filled it with the spout of beer shooting up out of the toilet the guys had perched on top of the keg. It was like a frat boy bidet.
Charming.
Praying that toilet had never been used in any capacity other than as a makeshift beer bong, I filled a cup for myself and took a sip of the flat, cheap beer and tried not to sigh.
Half an hour later, I still had two-thirds of my beer, and I was standing there feeling bored and self-conscious. Kylie had long ago abandoned my hand, and she was fending off the third guy to try to unpeel her banana, his hand teasing on her zipper while she laughed and swatted at his wrist. Nathan was across the room, looking bitter and miserable, wearing a flight suit and aviator sunglasses. Every three seconds he glanced over at Kylie, while still maintaining a firm grip on a girl in a gingham crop top and Daisy Dukes. There was clearly some dynamic going on between Nathan and Kylie that I really didn’t want to be in the middle of, some pheromone-driven power struggle.
One of the curls was tugged on the back of my head, and I turned around to see Tyler standing behind me. He was wearing jeans and a Metallica T-shirt. “Nice costume,” I said, feeling both relieved to see him and nervous at the same time.
“I’m a Muggle,” he told me with a completely straight face.
Of course he was. “Oh, yeah? No letter inviting you to Hogwarts, huh? That sucks.”
“My parents were disappointed, but I still have my magic wand so it’s all good.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re gross.”
He laughed. “What are you supposed to be? My mom at her prom in 1988?”
“No. I’m a toddler with a tiara.” I pointed to my head and the crown.
Reaching out, he pulled the sash out straight so he could read it. “Miss Diagnosed?” He grinned. “Rory, you fucking crack me up.”
I smiled. “At least you get it. I’ve had like three people tell me they’re totally confused.”
“Your premed wit is on display, babe. Though you don’t look like any toddler I’ve ever seen.”
“Too tall?”
“Among other things.” He took my drink out of my hand and sipped it, then made a face. “Piss water. Come on, let’s go out back. I have a stash of real beer under my jacket. Brandon’s watching it.”
I had no idea who Brandon was, but I really had no desire to stay in the crowded house and feel superfluous, so I let him take my hand and lead me across the room. Apparently my hand was in high demand tonight. Tyler unceremoniously
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