Sonata (Harry Styles FanFiction)

44. Happy?

"Oh, Dari! There's some guy looking for you— said it's important?" Greg shrugged, reaching behind him to grab the funnel, simultaneously popping the tab on the Bud Light in his hand.

"Then let him keep looking. It's my party; I want to get drunk and enjoy it... like now," I laughed, tossing back the last shot before grabbing the end of the tube to the funnel from him.

"That's my girl. Now, deep breath, and chug!" He upended the beer at the mouth of the funnel and foaming, bubbling alcohol raced down the tube and into my mouth. I didn't take a breath until it was all gone and between the smoke, alcohol, and the lack of oxygen, I was buzzing once I finished. I couldn't decide what was worse, funneling or shotgunning— probably shotgunning. Greg knew that I was against the entire frat practice of punching a hole in the bottom of an open can. The goal was to drink the entire damn thing without stopping or spilling a drop. That shit was hard. With the funnel you could turn the end of the hose right side up and it stopped, but with a shotgun... yeah, you were fucked.

"How have you been lately?" Greg asked, slinging an arm around me after I was finished. He handed me a cup of tonight's punch; it was black with a layer of fog settled on the top from the dry ice they'd dropped into the barrel. Curiosity kicked in and I sniffed at it— it was sweet, fruity, and hopefully chalked full of alcohol.

"Fine," I laughed, "Hey, what is this stuff?"

"Uh, Everclear, Pineapple Absolute, Strawberry Bacardi, bunch of fruity shit, and special food coloring packets from the Halloween store; we're telling everyone it's 'poison' though."

"Clever," I muttered, carefully raising the cup to my lips. Skeptical, I took a tiny sip, tasting Greg's latest concoction, "Holy fucking shit, this is amazing!"

"Ya think?"

"I'd bottle it and sell it."

"A side business for a broke college student... I can see it."

"You're far from broke Davies," I laughed, thinking back to the one and only time I'd met Greg's family. They were some tight assed blue-blood bitches, let me tell you. His mother took one look at me in her frilly little $3000 dollar sundress and I swore she had a coronary. He'd warned me beforehand about how they would react, so I'd kind of upped my game a little. The only color in my entire appearance had been my hair and I wasn't entirely sure they'd appreciated my fashion decisions. I swore, his entire family thought that he'd brought home the bride of Satan. It was a great afternoon.

"I'd have to actually cash the checks they send me," he laughed, grinning triumphantly at me. His family had threatened to cut him off if he didn't go Ivy League— he'd been accepted of course, the kid was fucking brilliant. He just didn't have any interest in that kind of life. He told them to go fuck themselves and accepted NYU's scholarship offer. He was kicking ass in the Medical field— he'd made the Dean's List every semester he'd been here. After a while, his mother started to 'miss her baby boy' and so the Davies clan had opted to reinstitute him as a member of the family in the form of fiscal bribery. He wasn't having any of it and I was damn proud of him.

"That's my boy." I patted him firmly on the back before he took my hand and led me out of the kitchen. Jas was completely in her element. Some how she'd managed to climb her way onto the dining room table and was dancing to whatever techno shit DC had blasting throughout this floor of the house. She'd amassed a decent sized crowd of admirers in the Jasmine McKenney way and they were eating out of the palm of her hand. Amara, on the other hand, was backed into a corner and looking extremely uncomfortable— Jeff had found her.

"Fuck! Davies, perv-alert!" I crowed, tugging him towards the scene. I could tell that Amara was trying to be nice, but by the set of her jaw and her uneasy stance it was obvious she was looking for an escape.