Life of the party

The **** rushed to Noah’s head, like a house fire, moving from floor to floor. Heat was clawing at his throat, and smoke was filling up his head.

The Fireball sat ugly in his gut. He could feel it curdling, fighting with the gnarly cocktail, various types of ****, and grief that hadn’t made it to the surface yet.

He leaned against the fridge, just for balance, and spotted him—the sweaty guy, though now he looked like he had cleaned up a bit. He had a beer in hand, and several grinning faces staring at him.

“…her ass was ridiculous, like maybe one girl in a million has an ass like this, and a bounce like fucking diving board,” the sweaty guy insisted, smiling while gesturing with both hands. “I swear to God, never experienced anything like it in my life.”

The cluster of guys around him reacted accordingly, some with awkward laughs, and others with audible groans of approval. One of them was filming it, and he might have been sending it out on Snapchat.

Noah’s stomach turned.

If he didn’t go up there now, every guy in the goddamn house was going to end up in that line.

He gripped the edge of the counter, brain churning, but couldn’t get a thought to stay put.

And then there was a commotion all the way at the other end of the living room. The crowd parted, phones out, as a couple stumbled out of what looked like a laundry room. The guy was shirtless, his belt was undone. The girl next to him was some dark-haired chick, he thought he recognized from one of his classes, with raccoon eyeliner and contoured cheekbones. She was swinging a used condom in slow, triumphant loops above her head like a lasso.

“YEEAAAHHH!” someone shouted, and the whole kitchen erupted into drunken whoops.

Noah blinked, dazed.

It might’ve been funny, stupid party story, until the girl next to her, a skinny blonde in a pink tank top and Doc Martens, stepped forward and grabbed her wrist.

“Nooo,” she drawled, sing-songy and grinning.

The raccoon-eyed girl laughed and let the blonde snatch away the condom.

And then the blonde pulled it straight, held it up like it was one of those freezie ice-pops that come in those plastic tubes, then she tilted her head back, up the open end to her lips and suck down the cum that was inside.

Laughter turned into a roar. Some people screamed. Someone banged a pot against the counter, like a church bell chiming out the hour.

Noah suddenly felt like he wasn’t drunk enough for this party, despite having just swallowed down a cup's worth of straight ****.

It was the kind of moment that branded itself into your memory. Some combination of shock, awe, disgust, and appreciation for having witnessed it.

The shirtless guy and the girl with raccoon-eyes, gravitated back toward the blonde, who was wiping her mouth, her cheeks glowing red. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but everyone was smiling. Noah could see the beginnings of something ill-advised and complicated was starting to take shape around them.

The crowd folded in, like a tide coming to collect her.

Noah looked away.

She wasn’t Jillian, but chances were good, she was going to end up in the same position.

He had to move. Before the next round of guys turned the guest room into a goddamn drive-thru.

He pushed through the crowd, past the sticky counters and the sweaty laughter and the smell of beer, weed and fruity vape mist.

The stairs felt longer this time. His legs heavier.