the party

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the party 。・:*:・゚★ Chapter 9


"Hey-- what about something ska? Like Sublime?" Lyra suggested, every word coming out as a slurred bunch. She suddenly snapped her fingers. "Smoke Two Joints!"

"I ain't practice Santeria, I ain't got no crystal ball...

"That's Santeria, not Smoke Two Joints, dumbass." I laughed.

Clarren scoffed as Lyra continued humming lyrics of the wrong song and I was imminently reminded of the day Clare had showed up at my house. High out of her mind. I smiled remembering the sight of the teen slapping the shit out of her no good ex boyfriend through the glass walls of the station, hours after out spontaneous but illegal revenge act.

"First of all, Lyra, the song is supposed to be appropriate for school." Clare tapped the pen on the long list of bands and song ideas. Majority of them crossed off. "Second, isn't that song just another way for you to advertise your... business?"

"My business? Please, I hardly have a any clientele." Booze, for some reason, made Lyra say big words she wouldn't have even been able to spell while sober. "Just you, some drop out senior... Oh! And that drummer boy over there."

All three of us, sitting in a secluded corner of one of the many rooms in a random teenager's house, whipped our heads around to look at the obviously wasted drum player, who was performing an ear-splitting rendition of Shape of You with the rest of his band. Mollycoddle. Which was somehow worse than the name of Hunter's band.

"Wow. He's lookin' fresh." The girl added sarcastically. She stood up from the small sofa we were huddled on. "Speaking of which, the bastard never compensated for that twelve ounce-- I'll be right back."

I rolled my eyes, watching as she drunkenly shuffled over to where the band was performing, and starting barking numerous things to the boy, who only acknowledged her with a dazed, bloodshot glance and continued playing. 

"Alrighty, back to the list, shall we?" I looked back down at the list and it seemed to stare right back at me. How embarrassing it was, to be intimidated by a piece of paper. "We'll just go ahead and cross off Sublime..."

The paper was still staring and I was suddenly feeling an urge to down a solo cup of mass produced beer. "Fuck this. Let's just take a break."



The kitchen was thankfully less populated than other rooms, so I immediately saw a buzzed Kevin and a sulking Hunter Sylvester standing towards the end of the island that was probably longer than my bed. I ignored their gazes and poured myself a cup, instead. It burned all the way down and tasting fuckin' terrible, but a sense of relief came with it. Nevertheless, I gagged, earning a couple of head-turns.

𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐀𝐂 ♬✼:* hunter sylvesterWhere stories live. Discover now