“In alcohol,” he mumbled. “But now, perfectly fine.” He shrugged then tried leaning against the pool house, missed it by a solid foot, and collided with a lawn chair and a pink flamingo. He quickly got to his feet, clutching the neon bird to his chest, with a guilty look on his face.
Reid emerged from the house, weaving back and forth, and then used a person for support as he eyed the crowd. He sobered quickly as a gorgeous, curvy woman stepped forward. “I expected this of Max, not you.”
Reid gulped and then pointed a finger in Max’s direction. “Jordan?” he sputtered and then yelled, “He made me!”
The woman sighed and looked back at Milo.
“Tequisha.” A slurred voice sounded as Colt rounded the corner with a bottle of Jack in hand.
“Colt?” Milo gasped.
“To be fair, I think he means tequila. I know nothing of this Tequisha bitch.” Max nodded encouragingly and then narrowed his eyes at Colt and did an “I’m watching you” sort of thing with his hands that basically made him look even more drunk.
Colt dropped the bottle onto the grass and then hid behind Milo and whispered, “He’s the devil.”
“Okay!” Milo clapped her hands and shouted loudly. “Party’s over! Please call an Uber. If you need to sleep it off, feel free to keep using the lawn, and using the lawn does not mean you are allowed to hump the garden gnomes.” She cleared her throat. “Yes, you in the blue shirt? Keep doing that, and I’m shoving the gnome up your ass. See how good it feels then!”
“You feel me!” Max shouted as if he was somehow in on it.
Milo shot him a glare and warned, “Not now, Max. Not now.”
“Not now, Max,” he repeated in a soprano-pitched voice then held up his hand for a high-five from Colton.
“Slap his hand and never get laid again,” Milo said when Colt had his hand mid-air.
He jerked it back and shook his head, while Max sent an evil look to Milo.
People moaned around us. Only about a dozen pulled out their phones and sloppily typed in their apps to get a ride.
I found my feet, thanks to Jason, and was starting to walk over to the girls when a pizza truck pulled up.
And suddenly, everyone was on their feet and running toward it as if it was a reunion concert for Pearl Jam.
Max crossed his arms. “Works every time.”
“Evil genius,” Reid scoffed then slowly stumbled toward the truck. He grabbed two boxes and motioned toward the house.
Jason pressed his hand on my back, guiding me toward the patio door, as Reid dodged inside just ahead of us and placed the boxes on the kitchen table.
Things were a little blurry after that.
We all sat down.
Max tossed paper plates.
And then it was just all of us moaning while the sober ones gave us looks of pure judgment.
Cheese draped down my chin. I sucked it in, wiped my face with a nearby napkin, and pointed at Max. “He called everyone.”
“Bought the booze,” Colt added.
“Forced tequila.” Reid looked ready to puke as his wife tried to force him to take another bite in an effort to sober him up.
“His fault,” Jason agreed, sounding the least drunk of us all, which had me wondering just how sober he’d been a few hours before when we’d been in the pool.
I felt my body tingle just thinking about it.
His hand moved to my thigh.