✓ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘, guy germaine

05. party in the u.s.a.

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜
chapter five: party in the u.s.a.

[a/n]: another classic party chapter!! hope you enjoy.

tw(s): some drinking, partying
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━━━ IT DOESN'T TAKE LONG TO walk to the McIntyre residence. Evie approaches a large colonial style house with tall marble pillars and a huge set of French double doors in the front. Her hand hovers above the large knocker (she almost cowers at the frighteningly realistic lion engraving), but upon listening a little closer, it's likely that with the booming and vibrating music inside, her knocking attempts will be futile anyway.

As Evie suspected, the front door is unlocked, and swings open. The music is intense; she winces as the volume rings in her ears, strobe lights flashing from a machine in the living room. Solo cups litter the floor (this, she really cowers at; this will be a disaster to clean up) and couples make out rather vigorously in not-so-discreet corners (this may be even grosser than the stench of cheap vodka hanging in the hot air).

Evie wraps her arms around her own waist, not because she is cold (quite the contrary, with the hot, sticky teenagers mingling about the place), but because she's got an unsettling itching feeling at her shoulders.

She shouldn't be here.

Evie hasn't been home in a while, but the one rule she is sure will remain for the rest of her teenage years is: she is most definitely not allowed to be out on a week night without notifying her parents a day in advance and receiving their permission. That'll be a problem for her future self, but for the time being, she needs to try and enjoy herself.

"Evie, what are you doing out partying?" a familiar voice laughs, mirth in his tone.

She whirls around at the sudden words, her eyes narrowing when she realizes it's Guy Germaine. "Well, I got the invitation and I decided to come. What, you don't think I'm capable of having a good time?" 

It's not really her fault she gets so defensive about this subject; she used to constantly be made fun of for being a homebody. Not the worst thing to be mocked for, but hurtful nonetheless. In sixth grade, her class had done a poll to vote for superlatives for each of the students. Everyone had voted her the most likely to move off the grid and become a cat lady. This had been voted upon even by people who Evie had never talked to, but it was just a decided thing: Evie was not fun.

Guy laughs again at her stuck up nose and crossed arms. "No need to fight with me, Evie; I didn't mean anything by it. Seriously, it's good to see you here."

Evie doesn't know how to respond to that. Thanks? She picks at her cuticles and the skin peeling around her fingers. She goes to bite them, but her nails are bitten down to the quick. "Yeah, I guess. It's good to see you, too, Guy."

Guy's eyebrows raise only slightly at the last part. He didn't expect her to ever say something like that after...what happened. He casts his gaze downwards for a second, his confidence wavering. "Do you want me to get you a drink?" he says, clearing his throat. "A mixed Sprite and Fanta, right?"

Evie's eyes sparkle with something inscrutable. "Um, yeah, thanks. I'm surprised you remember."

Guy smiles, and he almost says 'of course I do' in the sappiest, grossest way, but he simply responds, "Well, duh. Only a psychopath drinks that shit."

A surprised chuckle bubbles from Evie's lips, and she bites on the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. "Shut up, Guy. We're not going to have this conversation again. It's good! You can't knock it 'til you try it."