Not His Type → Jack Gilinsky [DISCONTINUED]

34. The More, The Merrier

(thirty four)

ELLA'S POV

As if this party wasn't already insanely hyped, it went up by a ton. High schoolers were even more excited about 'games' than I've seen elementary school kids.

"You'll need a group of four for the first game. For the second, we'll split into two groups. For the first game, you'll be required to be able to lift a person. Three people will have to carry one person above their heads. The goal for this game to grab the bandanas off of the rider's possession. The group with the most bandanas wins. Simple."

God d*mn. How f*cking high is he exactly? This is not a typical party game. What ever happened to musical chairs? I can't even lift my little sisters.

"This nigga triflin'." I whisper to myself. People started scrambling around in search of their squads.

"John-"

"Let's... go get Wilk." He rips his eyes away from the scene and starts running back up the stairs.

"Wilkinson, get up off your *ss b*tch. You need to stop being a drunk motherf*cker and get up." Johnson shakes Sam in attempt to wake him up.

"Sam!" Johnson pauses and stares at him for a second. "At least act sober."

Sam stirs for awhile before groaning and getting up.

"What're we doin'?"

"We're playing a game. Come on, get up!"

"OH! Games? I love games. What kind of games? Like hop scotch? Or like spin the bottle? Or- or maybe seven seconds in heaven?"

I raise an eyebrow at him, "No."

He turned to me with dreary eyes, "I WANT PLAY TO-"

The door knob turns and we all fall silent to see who was at the door. I slouch when I notice that it's just *sshole numero uno. As if Sam reads my mind, he goes on and on about how he wants to play Uno.

"Hey. Do you mind if I join your group?" Gilinsky clearly was reluctant about this. He was gritting his teeth and I swear he was about to narrow his eyes at me.

When we don't speak up, Sam turns to Gilinsky in a sluggish voice. "Of course you cannnn, buddyyy , but I don't know if they're ok with you right now. I think they're plotting ways to decapitate youuuuu."

Sam wasn't exactly accurate. I mean sure we thought about killing him, but not by decapitating. At least, I haven't yet. Johnson has known Gilinsky for awhile so I can't say he hasn't thought about it at least once. Johnson and I don't try to convince Gilinsky of other things, instead we nod our heads.

We need another person anyways. Since, Sam is so f*cking drunk that he's in a different wonderland right now, we'll need someone who can replace his strength and can handle his stupidity powered by his drunkness.

"I'll take that as a yes then?"

"Well, I'd tell you to f*ck off, but knowing you, you won't. So, I don't see a difference whether I tell you or not." Johnson mutters in a matter of fact tone.

Gilinsky smirks and folds his arms in front of his chest while muffling a snicker.

"You know what? F*ck it. F*ck you. F*ck your descendants! F*ck your d*mn dog! And-oh, don't forget- f*ck your fake eyebrows!" Johnson screams at him while I stand there in a state of shock. My mouth is hanging open watching as Johnson glares and Gilinsky is putting in all his effort into not laughing in the situation.

I'd have to admit. Johnson is too adorable to even feel threatened by. Not even Gilinsky is fazed by him. Not even drunk Sam.

"You done yet? The game is going to be starting... And you can close your mouth now." Gilinsky shifts his eyes from Johnson to me and his smirk widening. I regain my posture and cough awkwardly.