31 // I Love It When You Call Me Big Papa

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     It wasn't that I was competitive, it was just that I didn't like losing, and I especially didn't like losing to Reese, because it was Reese, and really, fuck him. 

     Which meant that when I accidentally caught his eye across the room, amber eyes meeting mine and narrowed in a challenge, I might have abruptly stolen Savannah's drink, swung it back in two seconds flat, crinkled the cup in my hand and chucked it on the floor with a ridiculous amount of force.

     I wasn't competitive, but Reese was going down.

     My throat burned as the flames of the vodka trailed down, and Savannah eyed the discarded cup warily. "If you were thirsty you could have just told me."

     I barely even registered her words as I scanned the room, a fire in my eyes, liquid determination coursing through my veins. Or that could have just been the tequila shots from earlier. But either way, my gaze was drinking in every jawline and every bicep, calculating probability and other stats at record speeds in my mind, finding The One.

     The One that I was kiss so good that he would instantaneously fall in love with me because goddamnit, I was a good kisser. Watching romantic comedies every Friday night with Savannah and Eva was not a waste, it was research, and now I was going to rock some little boy's mind. With science. 

     "Me? I can't get someone to make out with? Psht, boys- boys are idiots. I can get one to make out with me, no problem, whatever," I murmured low under my breath, teeth gritting, eyes narrowed.

     Teenage boys were basically meat and hormones; they'd hump a pillow if you put some nice lipstick on it. I could get a boy to make out with me. Probably. I hoped.

     "What? Sorry, Stells, I couldn't hear you over the music," Savannah said, knitting her brows and cupping a hand around her ear. "Could you repeat that?"

     "How do you get boys to kiss you?" I asked, louder this time, my lips pursing in thought as I continued to look out across the room, pointedly avoiding Reese's shit-eating grin. "How does that whole thing, you know, work?"

     Savannah eyed my wild hand gestures and then cocked her head, eyebrows raised. "You're really going for Tyler tonight?" she asked, a grin breaking out across her face.

     I nodded, still slightly distracted. "Yeah, Tyler, explain."

     "Well just get close to him, touch his arm, lean in, that sort of thing. Stella!" she squealed, mouth gaping in excitement. "I can't believe you're finally going for it; I feel like it's been so lon- Eva! Get your shirt back on! No! Do not run away from! Eva Martinez you get your ass back here right now!"

     I watched with wide, shocked eyes as Savannah immediately broke out in a sprint into the other room, a frown pressed into her face and blonde hair trailing after her, where I assumed Eva was running around half-naked like a chicken with it's head chopped off.

     Instinctually I took a step forward to follow them, but then paused, recognizing the shining opportunity that had fallen in my lap in much the same way Eva's shirt had fallen off her body. With Reese distracting Tyler, Eva distracting Savannah, and tequila distracting Eva, now was my time to strike.

     Swallowing a deep breath, I turned my attention back to the room, pulling in the atmosphere. Some of the faces were vaguely familiar, disembodied names floated around my head with no actual faces to attach them to, but that hardly mattered. All I needed was a boy, who had a face, and some lips on that face.

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