“I’m glad you all are staying the night,” I try to say.
It comes out more likeI’mglaaaaddyallrestayinniiiight.
“Ell is shitfaced,” Lily announces, like a proud new parent.
I close one eye, then the other, trying to bring her into focus.
Poppy stamps her adorable little kitten heel on the floor. Yes, kitten heel, complete with a tuft of fur or feathers or something soft-looking on the strap across her foot. They match her sexy little slip perfectly, and she looks adorable and stylish as usual.
I curl my lip as I pluck at my Hawaiian-print shorts. “At least I’m comfy,” I tell myself.
Poppy jabs a finger into my shoulder.
“We’re doing this,” she says, and I sway a little at the impact of her fingertip.
“Doing what?” Lily asks, always game. That’s Lily for you, though.
“I found a reality show that need contestants,” Poppy says breathlessly.
Then she hiccups, and we all laugh way too loud and too long.
“It better not be a survival one. You know we’d be the first kicked out,” Lucy says, somewhat coherently.
“Speak for yourself,” I slur. “I won best archer at camp. I am great with a bow and arrow.”
“When you were tweeeeeelve,” Lucy argues.
“You literalllllyyyyy bring that up every time you drink.” Lily rolls her eyes. “Pathetic.”
On screen, the currentWorld’s Most Eligiblecouple are making out, and I throw a Swedish Fish at the screen. It bounces off and plops into the quickly defrosting frozen margarita pitcher.
“Going for a swiiiiiim,” Lucy sings out. “Little fishies in the seaaaa!”
“Shhhhhh,” Poppy presses her finger to her lips, staring us all down. “This important. Isss important.” She stomps her foot again, and the fur on her heel wobbles dramatically.
“You look hot,” I tell her.
“Super hot,” Lily confirms, raising her glass so we can cheers.
We miss, and more margarita spills onto the carpet where we’ve ended up.
It only makes us laugh more, especially when Lily scoops some off the ground to plop in her mouth.
“That is sick,” I tell her.
“Five second rule,” Lu says.
“Alcohol kills everything,” Lily says after swallowing.
I shake my head. I don’t think that’s quite true, but I can’t remember why.
“I’m going to fucking lose it,” Poppy says, and tears spring to her eyes. “Listen to me.”
“Shit,” Lu says, glancing at her. “Everybody shut up. Poppy has to talk. Poppy talk. Poppy cock.”
I snort, then regret it as some frozen margarita starts to go up my nose.
I don’t even remember taking a sip.