Polar opposites sharing bunk beds and possibly falling in love in the process. Alex would not believe it in a billion years.
*****
Alex is an only child, a force of nature, and an academic machine. At least, she likes to focus on those aspects of h...
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We're finally alone
It was a long road, but we're finally here. Alone.
The entire party was a mess. After the drinking game, almost everyone was left fuming or ecstatic. Alex and I were more of the latter. Brett and Jay fought for like an hour, at which time Alex and I danced to mainstream Taylor Swift songs and drank a lot of beer. I've never seen drunk Alex before, but now that I have, I understand why she doesn't go to parties often. The regular Alex would so disapprove of drunk Alex.
Drunk Alex sings and dances on tables and laughs like a maniac and can upstage me faster than I can take. For the first time in my life, someone is leading the way. I just have to follow and trust I'm in good hands. I kind of like it.
I'm not exactly sober myself. I didn't drink as much as Alex, but that's a low margin. Alex drank a lot. Once she started, she was out of control. I tried to get her to calm down and serve her some water, but she was shoving drinks in my face as well, and we forgot what it felt like to be sober.
We were drunk when we decided to take off our shoes and throw them into the pool; we were drunk when we went on extremely long rants about Stranger Things on Instagram, and extremely drunk when we did karaoke. It would've been fun, had Brett not been third-wheeling nearly the entire time.
Brett was practically glued to us after his fight with Jay. Whenever I tried to talk to Alex...alone, he would swoop in with an innocent expression and take away all our attention.
This isn't normally the case at parties.
When Brett's at a party, he manages to get so unbelievably drunk that his senses get clouded to the point where he wants to fuck everything that moves. That is not an exaggeration. Once, he was so drunk he thought about fucking a far-off tree that according to him: "had the curves of a woman." Thirty minutes into a party, he'd sneak off to his room with someone and come out with messy hair and even messier anecdotes.
I don't go to Brett's parties as much as I used to because they require a specific context. They're not the sort of ordeal you enter without assessing your circumstances.
Brett's the one you call when you want to hit up a party and drink until your brain cells are the ones tasting the cheap beer. Brett is the one you call when your mom kicks you out of the house and your cousin's place turns out to be a secret hiding spot for drugs. Brett is the one you call for when you want to take a girl out but not make it look like a date...because it's not.
Brett is not the one you call when you want to be alone with that girl on said not-date.
Every time you call Brett and tell him you're going to his party, a child dies, or so I'm told.
Sacrifices had to be made to take Alex out tonight.
Brett doesn't tend to cling to a crowd, which was why I was confused at first when he wouldn't leave us alone, up until I realized he wasn't drunk enough. He'd been the one to drink the most during the game. He even punched Jay, something I praised him for...for about five minutes, a lot of time for him to get any praise at all. But he wasn't Brett drunk. He wasn't quite ready to publicly strip to "Toxic" by Britney Spears while pouring the contents of a tequila bottle on his head. At least, not yet. It was only a matter of time. I knew that. I had my faith.
