Beer, Spaghetti, and Pharmaceuticals ||COMPLETED||

Nine

A/N: Huge thanks to @ElisionEditing for helping make this story great! And thank so much to everyone who has read or voted on this story; genuinely overwhelmed by how much activity this story has gained over the past week. Have an amazing day and a great start of the semester for all the students out there!

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"Bloody hell, I love blondes."

"Thanks, man."

"Not you, you prat," Blaise said with a mouth full of hashbrowns. "Her."

Alice turned her face from her sausage and eggs to trace Blaise's gaze to a beautiful blonde waitress pouring coffee at a table with tired parents and a crying baby. She glowered at Blaise and returned to her breakfast, continuing to ignore the boys' conversation.

Isaac shrugged. "She's alright."

"Just alright?" Blaise asked looking dumbfounded. "That girl is a ten."

"Not my type."

"Then what is your type?"

Isaac's eyes scanned the retro breakfast diner until they landed on a tall, curvy woman with long wavy red hair laughing at a table with her friends. "That girl is pretty hot."

Blaise twisted around to observe the woman with raised eyebrows. "Damn, Isaac. Didn't realize you liked red heads." He turned back to smirk at Alice. "Did you hear that, Alice?"

"Mhm," Alice grunted with her cheek on her fist, not looking up from her plate even though her frizzy, unwashed hair was falling into it.

"I don't like all red heads," Isaac said, rolling his eyes. "I just like that specific red head."

"What's your type?" Blaise asked and nudged Alice in the ribs, receiving a scowl from her.

"Oh, jeez, I don't know," she said and stabbed her sausage fiercely with her fork, splitting it into small, mashed up chunks. "Maybe 'my type' is guys who aren't shallow enough to base their entire preference on something as meaningless as hair color."

"Damn." Blaise frowned, slowly leaning away from her. "Why are you so pouty today?"

"I'm not pouty."

Isaac's eyes widened at the poor, demolished sausage. "You seem a little pouty."

"Fine." She slammed her fork on the table and squared her shoulders with Blaise. "I guess I'm pouty because it's seven in the morning on a Saturday and I'm already stuck listening to you two objectify women."

"Woah, relax. We are just joking around," Blaise said, raising his hands in the air. "Besides, you're the one who suggested we meet up early to get work done."

"Yeah, but the only reason I suggested it was because you insisted on spending last night watching movies at Emily's instead of working."

"Not to mention the fact that you barely spoke to her all night," Isaac said, trying to contain a quiet snicker.

"Hey, come on," Blaise said, tilting his head. "I tried talking to her but she ignores everything I say!"

"Maybe it's because you act like a moron around her," Alice mumbled bitterly and Blaise shot her a glare.

"I'm not that bad."

"Yes, you are," she said. "Anytime she walks into the room you turn into this babbling idiot and it's cringey."

"Fuck that's cold, Alice," Blaise said, rubbing his chest.

"Well, it's true," she said, dipping her toast in her sunny-side-up eggs. "I don't get it either. I've seen you talk to other girls and you're perfectly normal. The second Emily shows up you follow her around like a sad puppy."