Page 78 of Call the Shots
“He’s skipping the party?” Bear tossed his shot back. “You’re kidding.”
“He really, really wanted to come.” I bit my lip, thinking it over. “I was saving this until tomorrow but might as well.”
“Saving what?”
I brought out a box from the fridge and Montoya’s mouth fell open at the reveal of the birthday cake with the chocolate hockey sticks.
“Oh,dude.” He pulled me into a big hug. “Thanks, June.”
“Let’s fuck up this cake and get fucked up.” Elijah grinned.
CHAPTER 30
BEAR
TOASTED MARSHMALLOW SHOTS
When June said sorority party,I knew what we were in for. Either a giggling movie night where I’d play video games with the guys in the basement or one of those academic sororities where they gave you a paper cup of wine to discuss papers no one read. I went to both in North Dakota with my ex.
This party was nothing like either of those.
I climbed out of the van to see a mansion—mansion?—pulsing with music while colorful stars flashed on the paneling. People hung out of the windows, people were piled in the front yard, people laughed on the roof, everybody drinking, everybody yelling to be heard over the music.
“Wooooah,” Montoya whispered.
I stared. “What is this?”
We followed June like ducklings as she made a straight path to the door, shaking on its hinges. When she opened it, music blasted outside, and I gazed into the fullest house I’d ever seen, everyone dressed in togas, golden bands, and fake armor.
“JUNE!” the house roared together.
Everyone was ecstatic to see her, and it was goddamn difficult to stay by her side while she was passed from group to group to give hugs like a nun visiting an orphanage. Theydid special handshakes and laughed at inside jokes. June left the entryway for the grand staircase, covered with more people thrilled to see her. She reached for Montoya’s hand and tugged him along while the rest of us stumbled to catch up.
Or…I stumbled.
“This is fucking awesome!” Nick yelled, grabbing a drink off someone’s platter.
“Don’t drink that—” Fridge tried to warn, but he downed it and threw the empty glass over his shoulder.
“Juno! Queen goddess!” a girl sang behind a wraparound bar at the top of the stairs, her hand on a whirling milkshake machine.
“Mell-o Jell-o shot!” June kissed the air. “Guys, this is Melody. She’s an editor for the school paper, she makes the best cocktails. Can I get a round?”
“And no garnish for you, I know the routine.” Melody took a closer look at us. “These aren’t Romans?”
“Not football, they’re hockey.”
“We have a hockey team?”
Nick frowned. “We were on the news. People have to realize that’s hurtful.”
Melody placed a round of glasses in front of us and dumped thick, chocolate milkshake into all except June’s. When Montoya went for his, Melody shooed him away and topped them off with marshmallows, toasting them with a handheld burner.
“Everybody to the dance floor!” a voice called through the speakers. “Countdown to line dancing!”
I was the only one confused. Everybody else cheered.
“Wehaveto do line dancing,” June told Montoya, and I started to ask Fridge what the fuck was going on, but Fridge was gone. So were Nick and Elijah, the three of them joining a conga line down the stairs.
