Don't Play Cupid if You Can't Handle Being Shot in the Butt

Four

The clock on the living room wall ticked closer and closer to eight. Donut watched it from his perch on the arm of the sofa, totally calmly, of course. He span his mobile phone around and around in his hands, resisting the urge to text every one of his friends to double (in some cases triple) check that they were still coming and knew how to find his house. He had done five laps around the house in the last half an hour, checking everything was clean, there was enough toilet paper stacked in the bathroom, and the kitchen contained enough alcohol and snacks to keep even Grif going for at least a week.

Now, he had nothing left to do but sit and wait for his guests to arrive. He allowed himself a text to Doc to make sure his friend had set off to fetch Wash from the other side of town, which he could reason as a sensible and not at all over-the-top text to send. Doc replied immediately saying he was about to get in the car, and politely suggesting that Donut should maybe have a drink to himself before people arrived. Donut smiled down at his phone, thankful again that he had a best friend who always knew how to deal with his moods. He dutifully rose from his seat and made himself a vodka and coke to quell his restless excitement.

The doorbell rang as the clock struck eight exactly. Donut was happily surprised, he couldn't think of anyone in his group of friends who could be trusted to be on time, but the last person he expected was Grif, who greeted him as he opened the door.

"Don't look so shocked, Delano," mumbled Grif, who was already munching on chips from one of the many bags of snacks he had wedged under his arms, "This nerd insisted we got here on time to make up for your last party." Donut peered around Grif see Simmons jogging up the path to the front door, similarly laden with alcohol as Grif was with food. He remembered with nostalgic annoyance that at his last party the two had been nearly an hour late, and Donut had barely held back from hitting them. But now, he beamed at his two friends, invited them inside with a bounce in his step and instructing them where to leave the booze and snacks they had so graciously brought. Whilst he was forcefully telling Grif that he had to stick to his own snacks and not attack the buffet before everyone else had arrived, the doorbell rang again.

"Buenos dias, cockbite." Tex was clad in black jeans, biker boots, a black vest top and black leather jacket. She greeted Donut in her usual manner before pushing past him to find the alcohol, leaving Church staring after her in the doorway.

"I did try and make her dress up a little," he intoned hopelessly. Donut gave him a sympathetic pat on the back, simultaneously leading him into the house and towards the kitchen to get him a much needed drink, switching the music on as he did so.

CT and Maine arrived not long after that, York and Carolina rounding the corner to the house just after they had got inside. All of them bar Maine were almost instantly roped into a drinking game being enthusiastically led by Tex. Donut didn't recognise it so he guessed it was one of her own devising, meaning that it would take all of ten minutes for everyone in the group to get absolutely shitfaced.

Caboose's distinctive, hinge-loosening knock interrupted the loud revelries of the game at a quarter past eight, or in other terms, at Donut's second vodka and coke and CT's third tequila shot. His bulky body entered the house in the form of a massive bear hug, talking so fast that Donut was unsure that what he was saying was actually English, or an obscure language that was unique to Caboose. Donut nodded against his friend, gently suggesting that he join the others in the living room. The bigger teen enthusiastically agreed, bounding into the room and immediately tackling Church, who screamed in an undignified manner, but still managed to hastily pass his drink over to York to prevent it spilling. York, true to form, downed the drink instantly, possibly not even noticing how it had got into his hands.