the bet → brad simpson | ✓

4

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗
𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧: 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩-𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙩
╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

It was Friday night and Blake and I had been invited to a party, and obviously I accepted the invitation.

Currently, we were fully dressed for the party, looking around a convenience store for some post-it notes.

"Pink or yellow?" Blake holds up to different types. I point to the yellow ones and he grins at me and gets some sharpies before pulling out some change and walking to the till.

He pays and we walk across the street which is conveniently where the party was. There were bras on the mailboxes, people making out on the stairs and the sprinklers were on.

"Who's party even is this?" I ask with a small laugh, rubbing my arms together at the cold breeze. We walk inside and am relieved by the warmth.

"No clue," he admits. "I heard it was one of the jock's that holds one most Friday night."

"Wow, that must cost a fortune," I say. Imagine having to buy all that beer and vodka and other beverages when you could spend it on food for Netflix marathons?

"Yeah, but most people at our school has a trust fund in each continent," Blake muses.

"I'm one of the unlucky ones that have a trust fund for college," I say with a sigh, but shake it off so I can feel more buzzed for this party. "Anywhore, lets get a drink!"

He nods and I follow him through to the kitchen, where he passes me a bottle of beer and takes one for himself also.

"My mom doesn't want me drinking too much," I remind him. "So don't be a bad influence."

"Right, right," he nods and takes a gulp of his beer. "How about we get up to our mischief?"

"Ahh, of course," I grin mischievously, placing my beer on the counter, and he passes me the post-it notes and a sharpie. "Who's our first victim?"

Blake looks around at everyone before pointing at a boy with 2013 Justin Bieber hair and glasses, "him."

I grin before scribbling 'belieber' on the note and walking over to the boy, lightly placing the note on his back without him noticing. The person he is talking to crossed her eyebrows together but I winked and she grinned, nodding at whatever he was saying.

"Your turn," I hand Blake the notes and sooner than later, nearly half the people in this house have post-it's on their backs. They varied from 'book-worm' to 'gym lad' or whatever bizarre situation we could come up for everyone.

"Brad's here," Blake muses and points discreetly to Brad and Tristan, who have just walked through their door. I scribble 'jerk' on a note and pass the pen and other post-it's back to Blake.

"I'll be right back," I smile and walk over to Brad as he turns the opposite way from me and faces the door, talking to Tristan. I go to put the note on his back but he notices quickly and turns to me.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He snaps at me, his voice low, and I put my hands behind my back.

"Nothing," I laugh nervously and take one hand and brush some 'dirt' off of his back. "You just had something on you."

"So you weren't gonna put a post-it on my back?" He raises an eyebrow at me.

"Why on earth would you think that?" I give him a confused and innocent look as I bat my eyelashes, hiding the blush that was creeping onto my face.