Page 94 of The Golden Boys
She pops a shoulder. “I figure, the sooner I get a little tipsy, the sooner I’ll forget I’m mostly partying with a bunch of losers. Then, from there, the possibilities are endless.” A huge grin brightens her face.
She steps up for a turn and I pat her on the back with a laugh. “This one’s all you, Mr. Lennon. Rock on.”
With another shrug of her shoulders, she takes a ball and it doesn’t take long for her to find a willing partner to take on the twosome across the table. After that, the next twenty minutes are a blur of flying ping pong balls and red cups going bottoms up. It becomes super clear super fast that this girl can drink most under the table. It’s Lexi’s turn and she sinks the ball into one of the other duo’s cups with ease, and those gathered around cheer her on.
“I’m gonna go grab a drink,” I lean in to tell her. “Be right back.”
She catches my wrist before I go. “Don’t takeanythingthat isn’t sealed,” is her warning, although that’s not something I’d ever forget.
When I salute her and walk away, there’s more cheering at my back and I laugh. You’d never conclude she’s not the social type. Guess she was right. Get a few beers in her and she’s the life of the party.
One of the mini security guards eyes me as I snag a bottle of water from the cooler, and then stop to scoop some snack mix from the bowl into an orange sandwich bag. I shoot him a coy wave and keep it moving. The platform boots make walking over the uneven terrain a challenge, but I’m pretty sure no one sees the couple times I nearly face-plant into a head stone.
The music’s good and, so far, no one I hate has ventured too close to me. Parker and her girls are always lurking, but they’re mostly concerned with being seen in those red horns and the skimpy, red lingerie they’re passing off as costumes. I almost wish we weren’t experiencing a mild heatwave, so the sluts could freeze their nipples off right here in the cemetery.
Being so abundantly mature, I imagine it, their nipples slipping right out from underneath those see-through teddies and landing in the grass while each one screams in horror.
Who Ihaven’tseen, though, are the Golden boys. My first thought is that they’ve decided to skip the festivities this time, but no sooner than I think those words—
“Who the hell areyousupposed to be?” There’s a laugh in West’s deep voice when he startles me, and it grows watching my snack bag slip from my hand. I only got to eat a few pieces out of it, and now it’s in the freakin’ dirt.
When I turn, thinking I’ll only glare at him, I suddenly wish I’d kept my eyes straight ahead.
Bare chested and solid, he’s oiled all the way down to that damn V. He looks like some sort of strip-o-gram fantasy and the thought of it has me rolling my eyes at him. You don’t get to be a complete ass and sexy, too. Just isn’t right.
He’s dressed as Egyptian royalty—black and gold, striped headdress that rests on his shouldersandmatches our school colors. Then, a black kilt-like thingy, trimmed in gold. On his feet, a pair of black and gold sneakers that don’t go with his digs, but somehow make him look even hotter. I’m willing to bet that what’s on his feet costs more than my house.
I peer out across the cemetery and spot Dane and Sterling already raising hell, both wearing the exact same getup.
Freakin’ hot douche bags. All three of them.
At Dane’s side, and dressed as Cleopatra, is Joss. Her braids are down tonight, and they look like part of the costume. She’s so pretty it hurts, and I always get the impression Dane thinks so, too. I also find myself hating Joss least of all, because she seems mostly neutral.
Not any help, but not so much part of the problem.
“You gonna answer me or just pretend I’m not standing here?” West perks up again.
He sounds less … venomous than usual. Almost happy.
Almost.
“Aren’t nightmares supposed to disappear if you ignore them?” I shoot back, sipping my water, because it’s all I have left.
In my peripheral, I see the gleam of white teeth when he smiles. “Come on. Don’t be like that.”
I scoff and roll my eyes, but don’t engage.
“How’s Scarlett?” he dares to ask next, and this time, his comment has earned him a hard glare from me.
“Don’t ask about her. Or anyone else in my family,” I clarify.
The sound of West’s quiet laughter grates my nerves, but I hide it.
“Damn, Southside! You always such a bitch?”
“Only in the presence of other bitches,” I shoot back.
He’s still laughing, which nearly makes me smile. Only a freak would laugh at being called out of their name.