The Blue House of 1478 (17) (Patreon)

I wasn't going to drink, but — Adrian butt-dials me.  That sort of sets me off, I think.  I was pacing, nervous when I answered, palms sweaty, thinking,

Oh, fuck.  It's been months since he's called me.  Months, but — is it time?

Has he done his perfunctory round of penance?

Is he going to apologize?

Am I going to live out that really cathartic moment from movies where the jilted lover totally reams their ex when they come crawling back — regretful, crying, saying things like:  I miss you.  I should've treated you better. I can't live without you!

Well.  The answer is a big, fat nope.

Jokes on me.  Adrian's butt is the only thing that cares enough to call me.  I listen to him laughing and talking in a crowd, sounds all muffled with city noise, music, and probably his pocket, before I hang up — mortified.

So.  I'm drinking.

Definitely.

—

I'm sometimes impressed by my ability to hold my liquor, at least to the extent that I'm not doubled over in the bushes like Brad Carson.  I gag as he wretches in the distance, just up the way from where everyone has spread out along the waterline, and Kia barks out a malicious laugh from across our bench table.

"Why is he always vomiting at these things?"  She snickers, untying another bag of ice for the cooler near her feet, "we should get him a self-help book.  Or like, a fanny pack that is also a handy dandy upchuck bucket."

"To be honest,"  I wave away her hand, the one that is hellbent on pouring more tequila into my plastic cup,  "I'm not even sure he understands that there's another purpose for alcohol other than, for example, violently purging his stomach contents onto Mr. Acosta's plants."

"Exactly why we're investing in a self-help book," Kia drinks straight from the bottle and cringes, but barely, making me fear her entirely more than usual.  "Before Mr. Acosta murders him."

"That would make a good actual book," Hunter chips in, passing his sister with a chip offering.
She declines, waggling her bottle at him.

"I hope you ate today, hangover queen." He rolls his eyes at her, then looks at me,

"Queens."  He corrects.

"Rude, Hunter.  You're burning your lust-inspiring hot dogs over there."  I wave towards the grill, albeit rather tipsily, and Hunter's face shifts into horror before he speeds off through the sand.

"He's going to pick up zero women tonight, which is weird, okay, because, despite his awful grilling skills, he's probably like an eleven out of ten on the looks scale.  Personality scale... at least a fifteen.  And look.  He can run in the sand."

Kia shrugs but looks proud,

"We have great genetics, personalities, and an affinity for being single.  What can I say?  I don't think I can run in the sand, though."

Her eyes drift over the party scene before us, which is actually much more diluted than Hollywood likes to portray it.  There are a few couples around a bonfire further out, two people treading the shoreline, and several eating near Kia's brother, who is loudly laughing and telling stories while he grills.

He's more social than us, aka, the benchwarmers of the beach-party life.

"I could be here every night."  Kia hums.

It's peaceful, by the water, and I feel more relaxed than I have all week at Liza's, stressing over finding a place to live and wondering if being a paperboy and glorified filler in our local newspaper is all I'll ever be.

"Even single?"  I nudge her side playfully, and she presses back,

"Yes, even..."  Kia pauses, but I keep my eyes closed,  "Woah, Theo..."

"What?  What is it?"

"I guess there's one more reason why we will be staying very single tonight," she frowns, "I'm glad your sister didn't come after all."

I shoot Kia a confused look; finally.  The alcohol in my system is making it harder to dissect where her also drunken train of thought has taken her until I gather up enough brain cells to follow where she stares.

"I cannot compete with the ghost house stud."

We absolutely can't.

Matthias is dressed casually, for once, which is a surprising sight in and of itself.  Levi is smiling at something someone else is saying, hand bumping along the palm of his roommate's casually as they stand, starting to meld into the group near the grill with ease.

I frown, something flipping in my stomach at the thought of a perfectly good night being ruined by,

"The demonic dynamic duo." I word vomit, and Kia sends me a shocked look that quickly turns to humored, "Double-D, double-threat, double-does not make any sense that they are friends."

"Ah, who are you talking about now?"  She grins, teeth bright against her skin, "Aside from shit-talking your dad and Liza, I'm never heard such venom from you, my little Theo." She closes her eyes in appreciation, "I must go meet the two big individuals who have incited your... kind of adorable... Wrath."

I grab onto her jacket sleeve and glower,

"Absolutely not.  You should, instead, stay here very, very, close to me."  I pull her in my direction, and she sighs loudly, "Preferably in front of me, and also become larger so they can't see that I'm here."

"The broody guy with the expressive eyebrows looked right at you like, two seconds ago," Kia shrugs, popping her gum, "I'm pretty sure he's very aware that you're here.  I don't see the other one.  Point to him."

"I'm not pointing!  The broody one is absolutely Levi.  His eyebrows cuss me out at least once a week," I hiss, and glance over.  Matthias is smiling along as Levi chats up a dark-haired girl and raises his eyebrows as the latter takes a drink from her with a dimpled grin. "He is the worst!"

"So you've told me," Kia unlatches my fingers from the fabric of her arm, "but, unfortunately, I did promise to help Hunter plate up the food, so..." She's already back-stepped away from me in three long strides, leaving me stranded and gaping in her direction.

I want to call her a mean name, or rhyme her name with something awful — but I'm a bit drunk, and nothing is coming to mind.  So instead, I turn on the bench and face the opposite way.

So much for relaxing.

I'm glaring at my cup, sloshing the ice around it halfheartedly.  I tap at my cellphone instead and wonder how obvious it would be if I faked a phone call all the way to my bike up the hill and escaped.

Too bad that I don't trust myself with drunk bicycle riding.

I feel someone sit on the bench beside me and sigh,

"You plate up food at the most inopportune times," I take a bigger drink than necessary before I tap my cup against the bench, "I know I've said this many times before — but this time, I'm never ever going to forgive you."

"How about you forgive me for last week instead?"  I startle, and surprisingly, it's Matthias.  He's leaning his face in one hand, staring at me with two big — apologetic eyes.

"What — you?  Here?  Woah, you walk fast.  So fast."

Oh my God, I'm such an idiot.

My stomach flutters, and I flush, glad that I'm probably already a bit pink from the cold and the tequila.

"I mean... What?"

"Well.  You see.  I really didn't do well at piecing together what was going on.  Levi and I were in sort of a spat, too." Matthias laughs in a self-deprecating way.  "I could have saved everyone from that whole yard scene."

I get caught on my words a few times, before I shrug and stare out at the ocean, then back at him, then at my hands,

"Uh,"  I shrug again, "no big deal. I probably — should've watched my mouth, a little.  Or apologized for his paper.... Or something."

Matthias grins, all white teeth and charm, and his eyes lid darkly.  I curl my fingers over the end of my jacket, heart thumping,

"Your mouth is a funny little thing," His grin is settling into something that resembles more of a smirk, "I don't mind it at all.  I think it's exactly what we need."

I nod and then don't know why I'm nodding — head warm and stomach a puddle of attraction.

We?

"I apologize — Uh.  I apologize too.  For ignoring your call,"  I put my cup up against my mouth, because I don't know what to do with my eyes or hands and need to stop staring at him, "that was maybe a little childish of me."

"Apology accepted,"  Matthias slips back out of the picnic table, and taps the edge of my drink with his finger.  My eyes track up to his eagerly, "You caught Levi in a bad month, okay?  Just keep thinking about that low rent price and answer my next call; it's a good deal, isn't it?"

He winks, and I nearly choke on my drink, a slight, strangled cough coming out as he walks off.