A Single Stroke ✔️

48: Lashes

I wasn't going to go. It was Friday and I planned to pick up some hours at the restaurant. Yeah, we won the last game of the season. Yeah, I was part of that win. Yeah, I was the number one player. Yeah, we were Seniors and Prom was around the corner, so why not attend a huge party with a bunch of people I didn't know at Max's house?

Dad.

With him home all the time, he knew when I was home and when I wasn't home and when my schedule changed. I didn't need him digging in my life again like last time when he stormed into the café.

But he made my job easy.

When I got home, he wasn't there. It was only seven, so I had a few hours to decide whether I would go to the party or not.

In the end, I decided to go. I earned it. I played a whole fucking year of basketball, a sport I no longer cared for, to earn a scholarship I still didn't get.

Reality finally hit me: I was stuck with my dad after graduation unless I got enough money to move out.

So...fuck it. Jacob warned it would be a rager, so I'd take full advantage. Go all out. Party hard. Party so fucking hard, I wouldn't remember anything tomorrow.

I wore a plain black t-shirt and ripped black jeans. Tousled my hair. Pulled on a leather jacket. Then I brought my stupid jersey just to humor Jacob.

I walked there. I walked because I still didn't have a car. The entire walk, I entertained the idea of stealing from my dad to get one. Stealing back what was mine.

The walk was only about ten minutes. I stopped at the end of the driveway.

Max's house was three stories high with rooms in every corner of the house. Music blared from the front door and some people from school loitered in the grass out front. Some already had red cups in their hands.

I marched up the steps and before I even made it to the door, Palmer was patting my back and saying, "Hey Emery! Good to see you!"

"Yeah, you too." I fist-bumped before entering.

The place was crowded. I could barely move. Everyone had changed out of their school uniforms into their casual clothes. A lot of the guys wore button-down t-shirts with plain jeans or collared shirts. Some actually didn't wear a shirt at all.

The girls...well, they definitely tried hard. Many had layers of makeup on, including lipsticks so bright I could help but wonder if they'd caused a couple accidents on the way here. Did they think it made their lips stand out more? Was it their way of telling a guy their lips were open to kiss? I never knew. A lot of them wore low-cut shirts and skin-tight clothes that made some body parts bulge more than others.

Hot. But did they have to put themselves out there like that?

"You made it. Here, have a beer." Max came up to my side and forced a bottle in my hand. "Redd's for the man."

I stared at the bottle. "Beer's not really my thing."

"What? Come on, Emery! You're such a drip sometimes."

"I'm not gonna spend all night sipping slowly on beers. I want something to hit me right away."

Max stared with his mouth open partly. He was stupid. And drunk. But finally, his eyes widened. "Oh! Shots, shots, shots! Hey Jake, you getting the shots ready?"

He was gone. I set my beer on a table and pressed through the crowds of people.

My ears pounded from the music. I found the DJ-some freshman mimicking Jacob with the snapback and Ray-bans-and tapped him on the shoulder. He pulled his headphones down to his neck and looked at me.