The List

#3: party with the one and only, ryder thompson

not a trigger warning, but a life warning: people are not as kind as we depict them to be. stay safe, let somone know where you are, and fuck- know self-defense, because i will remind you in case you forgot:

boys ain't shit.

girls ain't shit.

***

I'm not sure how I got here to be honest- I walked through the door super confidently, all by my lonesome- there was no way in heck I was letting my fourteen-year-old sister attend a Ryder Thompson party with me.

That being said, I was completely out of my element.

The party- was a rager to say the least. The house was packed, which I expected; Ryder threw the best parties in our small little town, and typically, everyone attended them, no matter who you were.

Ryder had the uncanny ability to make everyone feel welcome, and at one of his parties, everyone was welcome, even more they felt welcomed too.

I wasn't so sure that applied to me as well. I moved in the crowds, regretting my decision more and more, passing groping couples and awkward teenagers, rank with the stench of alcohol that honestly caused bile to rise up in my throat.

I supposed, it wasn't the stench of all the alcohol, it was the amber liquid that I saw a few people had in their glasses, the drink my father tended to have every day, after every long day. I grimaced, tugging my black cardigan tighter around my body, aimlessly looking for Ryder.

He found me. I felt the gentle tap on my shoulder and turned to see him, beaming. "I knew you'd come." He stood close to me, the beer bottle in his hand glistening with condensation.

I gave him a small smile, "I had no tutoring sessions today since all my kids are here at the party, so I thought, what the heck? Why not come," I confessed.

"Aw," he pouted, "I thought you came because you wanted to party with me," His arm came to rest on the wall above me, his subtle cologne overcoming me. A silver cross necklace that hung around his neck glinted in the low lights, floating above his tanned skin revealed by his cotton button down.

"Well now you're just quoting my list," I said teasingly, leaning back against the smooth white wall and crossing my arms against my chest.

Ryder beamed down at me, "C'mon Alice," he pushed off against the wall and offered me a hand, "let me show you what makes my parties the best."

I put my hand in his hand and his large hand enveloped mine. He pulled me off the wall, leading me through the maze of people, coming to stop at the kitchen, where the majority of the alcohol was located. He grabbed a glass bottle that held a pinkish liquid.

"I suppose everyone likes my parties because I'm always loaded with booze," he thought out loud, offering me the bottle.

I shifted on my feet uncomfortably, I had never had alcohol, the effects it had on my father terrified me from ever wanting it.

Ryder noticed my discomfort and placed it on the granite countertop beside us. "That's called a wine cooler," he tapped the top of the bottle, "barely any alcohol in there, won't get you fucked up if you stick to them, but they can aid if you were planning on getting tipsy."

I remained silent.

He sighed, and went to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of coke. He looked at me with a pointed gaze and I nodded slightly. He walked over to me, grabbing a red cup and poured some of it in the cup. "Don't leave your cup unattended, if you do, get a new one. I know it's a small town Alice, but date rape drugs are a thing, and there's no way in hell I'm letting that happen to you."