Chapterish 13

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BACK BAY PARTY

It's been one week.

We've had sex at least 20 times. The roof of the hotel, the cabana again, a deck, a boat. The list goes on. What's that about making up for lost time? Go us.

Trix and Meg didn't even berate me for it. Well, that much. The guys were all but expecting it from us. Apparently it was obvious to everyone at the bonfire.

We use code now, of course. One more time has become our little textual motto. OMT in secret spy mode.

It's been... A ride.

"What are you thinking about?" Brooks asks me now, standing next to me on the boardwalk pier.

"Nothing... Just being back here. And with you of all people," I say, almost annoyed with myself.

"I know," he says. "Crazy how some things happen."

"You could say that," I sigh.

"Do you regret it? Any of the last week, I mean." Brooks asks and I can tell he's worried for my answer.

"No." I answer too quickly.

I look at him leaning against the railing. We're both looking into the sea below, careful to avoid each other's gaze. The street lamp above him casts a glow onto his already perfect face. God, the pain. Surface level, bitch. You've got to keep things surface level.

"Do you? That's why you're asking?" I raise my eyebrows at him.

"Course not. What's to regret?" His eyes twinkle.

"Exactly." I agree.

"We should get going. Travis said it starts at 9." Brooks says checking his phone.

"Right. Let's go."

We walk the stretch of the promenade back to the pier. We snuck up here after visiting the cabana. We shared a funnel cake. It was too fucking sweet. And now we are summoned. It is time for Travis's party.

It's nothing fancy –just a backyard drinking fest.

"You can't drive," Brooks says, watching me pull my keys from my tote.

"I'm fine to drive. It was only a funnel cake." I smirk.

"Ha-ha. It won't only be a funnel cake later." Brooks pulls out his own keys. "Plus you don't have a car."

"I have my mom's car," I remind him. "It works just fine."

"We will drop it at your parents' house and drive to Travis's together. Saving the environment one carpool at a time."

"Ha-ha. I think you just like the idea of taking me home after," I tease. The way he looks at me makes my stomach feel unnaturally tight. Fucking butterflies.

"You see right through me, Emmy Lou," Brooks laughs. "What am I gonna do?"

"Stop being so transparent."

It's already packed when we walk down the block. The crowd is spilling over onto the front lawn, side lawn, all the lawn really. If the music were a person it'd be fist pumping into the sticky night. We find our way through the house and to the back porch.

I haven't been to Travis's house in years, but I remember it well enough. He lives on the bay side and his house backs up to the canal. Everyone calls it Back Bay. There's a pretty sick deck with string lights and a massive fire pit right on the water. Blankets and afghans and coin pillows are sprawled across the grass next to the pit.

We find them all sitting on the deck, arranged in a weird Kumbaya semi-circle around the keg. Alex's guitar rests on his lap as usual. I recognize the beginning lines of Brand New's Soco Amaretto Lime. Alex's voice sounds like static silk. Digging it.

I know how Alex gets all the girls now.

"Hey! Look who made it," Nate shouts, looking at us from his spot on the deck.

We cross the yard together, hands dangerously close, but not touching. Never touching. We're careful to act nonchalant.

"Let me guess, you two just ran into each other?" Travis laughs.

"As a matter of fact... Yup," I say, raising my eyebrows. I dare him to question me.

"Yea," Trix says. "About eight hours ago."

I roll my eyes and cross the deck to Trix and Meg. They smirk at me when I sit down. I can't help but return it. Brooks walks to the keg on the far side of the deck and leans against the railing between Travis and Nate.

Allow me to backpedal and explain why all my high school friends still act like they're 18. It's because they all still wish they were. Also, only two of them have like "real" jobs. Not that real jobs even exist anymore.

Trix is a dance teacher for ages 2-12 or wherever they cut off before pre-high school. She's mostly ballet. Probably why she's so damn graceful (when she's not shitfaced). She also works part time at a boutique in town –a job she's had since 16. Meg is a teller at a bank. Wild, right? Not 100% sure how she ended up there, but she seems to like it. Has her weekends off at least.

Travis used to work at the same bank, doing something in financial planning. He's a real financier which you judgmental freaks wouldn't know based off his facial piercing and tattoos. He's incredibly intelligent and great with numbers. Nate is the P.E. coach at the high school. So, yea he literally never left in every sense of the words. He loves it though; loves trying to teach kids about sports and activities. Meg says he wants to be a coach one day, but for now he'll settle for gym teacher. Then Alex does whatever Alex does. Right now he's a, hold on I want to get this right... struggling musician wannabe singer-songwriter but really just a starving artist. OK. Close enough.

It's why he's always got the guitar.

"So what should we do?" Meg asks. I hear her drunk voice starting to come out of its hiding place. The slurring has begun.

"We could play pong or flip cup," Nate suggests.

"Either," Travis shrugs.

"Pong takes too long," Meg says.

"Flip cup. Let's do flip cup. We can all play at the same time!" Trix shouts.

"OK," Travis laughs. "Queen has spoken."

We grab a handful of other people until we have enough to divide into two teams of five: Trix, Travis, Nate, Joe and Sara versus Meg, Johnny, Katie, Brooks and me. Everyone has their own drink and second soon-to-be-flipped cup ready in front of them.

"Here," Brooks says, handing me a wine cooler. "Play with this headache."

"I can manage beer for the game," I say, rolling my eyes back at him. He slips his hand around my waist and squeezes. Travis pretends not to see.

"OK. OK. 3-2-1." Alex strums on his guitar.

First round goes to us. Second goes to them.

"Best out of 3!" Meg shouts, starting to cling to Nate in the way she does after she's had enough drinks.

Can't help but notice Trix and Travis and Joe and Sara and all the couples galore. It doesn't make me uncomfortable. In fact, it does the opposite. I feel comfortable being with him –being the second half of a couple involving Brooks.

"OK. Reset the line. Come on!" Alex instructs, still watching from the deck. He's got his tongue between his lips like he's trying to remember chords.

"Ready," Trix says.

"Ready." I nod.

I chug my eighth of a cup in three seconds, neck and neck with Trix. I flip once, no go. Flip twice, no go.

"Em, stop sucking," Brooks nudges me, rolling his eyes.

"Shut up!" I laugh into the table. I'm starting to forget how to act when I'm drunk playing drinking games.

"Really, what have you become?" Brooks is egging on my failure.

"You're supposed to be on my team. What is this?" I laugh.

Trix's cup lands upright on the table across from me.

"Shit!" I squeak. Flip #4 for the win. "GO!"

Brooks gulps his entire half beer in next to no time. He's already flipping his plastic cup before Travis even finishes his beer. No chance.

We're through Meg and Katie then it's on Johnny. They still have two people left. Johnny flips. No go. Their line just gets to Sara when Johnny's cup lands upright. Celebratory cheers! I move into Meg as she turns and whacks me across the chest with a newly poured cup.

"Fuck! Oh mah-god. Sorry, Emss," Meg laughs into me, her hair wet with her own beer. Not as wet as my shirt.

"Ha-ha Shit!" I pull at the hem of my tank.

"Meggggg," Trix boos her.

"I'll be right back!" I pivot in the grass and take the deck steps two at a time. I land on the top with a hard thud and almost lose my balance.

Dude, I'm drunk. Like, house party drunk.

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