Page 39 of Faux Real
“Oh, he’s sassy!” Maxine sings, wiggling her eyebrows. “Mama likey.” Dear God. They’re apparently all sloshed already. Time to play catch-up. “Let’s go do shots!”
“Max, can you chill?” Kenny asks, adjusting her position under my arm like I’m weighing her down. I instinctively tighten my muscles to relieve some of the weight. “We just got here. Let us breathe, will you?”
“Fine,” Max scoffs. “We’ll be upstairs playing cards, feel free to join us after youbreathe.” Felicity and Leon wave bye to us as they run down the hallway, whispering amongst themselves, about me, no doubt.
“Sorry about that,” Kenny murmurs as we push past the throngs of swaying drunk fucks, the stench of weed and alcohol permeating the air. “They’re pretty extra sometimes.”
“It’s fine,” I mutter as we stroll further into the house, avoiding the empty cans and garbage on the floor. It’s like a circus in here. Just as we reach the living room a voice shouts from behind us.
“Kennedy!”
Kenny untangles herself from my arm, whipping her head around. More people. Brilliant. “Lemar, oh hey,” she says, scrunching up her face. “Um...how’s it going?”
Lemar? The host? I give him a careful once-over. Well, he’s certainly built like an American football player, tall, wide, yet he’s missing the tough factor. Perhaps, it’s the Ralph Lauren Polo shirt that’s throwing me off.
“Hey, I’m glad you’re here,” he says with a wide grin, his eyes darting between us. “You must be Oliver, right? Nice to meet you.”
“You too,” I murmur with a sigh, catching Kenny frowning in my peripheral. What’s wrong with her now?
“Nice house. Lovelyfountain.”
Lemar throws his head back and surprisingly laughs. “It’s hideous, I know. My mom went through a phase.” He pauses, meeting Kenny’s distrustful eyes. “So a couple of things; drinks are in the kitchen, feel free to help yourself, there are snacks in the dining room, games upstairs, and in the basement, we have RJ spinning.” He shifts his attention to me. “Um...if you want to smoke do it outside but don’t hang out there, my neighbors are still pissed off from last week. Plus, the pool heater is broken. What else? Oh, right, if you break anything make sure to write it on the whiteboard.”
He’s a bloody auctioneer. Or he’s on drugs. The little white pasties on the corners of his lips indicate it’s the latter. Someone’s getting into it a little early.
“Whiteboard?” I ask.
“Yeah, it’s in the living room,” Kenny explains, nodding down the hall. “You need to write down what you broke and which room it was in so Lemar can replace it before his parents come back.”
“Oh,” I hum, uninterested. “You have a system.”
“So far it seems to be working,” he laughs, his attention focused on the group of giggling girls behind us. “Alright, cool. If you need to crash here, there are five guest bedrooms on the top floor. Have fun, okay?”
“Thanks, Lemar,” Kennedy says with a dubious smile. “I’ll uh—see you around.”
“See ya.” Lemar pats me on the shoulder and whispers before he leaves, “She’s not as bad as they say. Don’t be a dick.”
What? Where didthatcome from?
“Apparently, you’re not as bad as people say,” I repeat Lemar’s words as Kennedy drags me to the marble-slabbed kitchen, various cans of alcohol scattered across the counters.
“Well, that’s nice,” she scoffs, pulling a mango White Claw from the blue ice bucket and grabbing two chocolate chip cookies off of a wrapped plate. “I guess he hasn’t been brainwashed like the rest of the team. I thought he stopped us to be an ass or tell me to leave.”
“Why would he be an arse?” I ask, leaning against the kitchen island and pulling out my flask. Hopefully, there’s some whiskey lying around for when I need a refill.
Kennedy pops the whole cookie in her mouth, chewing a few times before explaining, “Well, he’s on the team with Sawyer and I think they all hate me now or something. I don’t know.” She shrugs, cracking open the hard seltzer and taking a sip. “I tutored Lemar last year for a bit. He was having problems with history. Maybe he wants free tutoring again.”
“Or maybe he just doesn’t care what other people say,” I offer. Kennedy tosses me a doubtful look. I elaborate, “Not everyone is so easily swayed by public opinion.”
“Yeah maybe,” she sighs, her eyes scanning our shambolic surroundings, a tiny scowl clipping her rosy lips. “How is everyone so wasted already? It’s like 8 p.m.”
“Only eight?” I ask, checking the time on my phone. This night is going to last forever, I just know it. “Fantastic.”
Music fills a beat of silence as Kennedy bites her lip, adjusting the straps on her black dress, light reflecting off of the small diamond pendant around her neck. I wonder who she dressed up for. It certainly wasn’tme.
“Do you want to go play beer pong or something?” she asks, evidently tired of the awkward air between us. “Cards?”
“I’d rather just find a couch and sit,” I state, averting my lingering gaze. Fuck’s sake, they’re like two perky magnets. That dress should be illegal. Or at least come with a warning: will turn boys into dogs. “You can do whatever you want though.”
