Page 7 of Ellie Hayes and the Himbos
“Sounds more like a tie,” says Alistair.
“That—” I consider the reframing. It’s almost cheering. “Thank you, I’ll take that.”
“You’re welcome.”
I smile and help myself to another bite of cheese. I’m ravenous, I realize. Before my appointment I’d been too nervous to eat, and after, it hadn’t been a priority. I think back to the menu I’d been perusing before Cole brought up his bullshit “break.” I was going to order the burrata. I could kill for a burrata right now.
Grant’s shoulder rocks forward from a shove from Alistair, and he clears his throat. “If you want to take some time to decide about the room, that’s no problem. But if you think that more cheese would be good, we were gonna go get pizza? If you wanna hang out?”
“And we’re having kind of a party later,” Alistair adds. “No big deal, just some friends.”
My instinct is to decline, but before I can find the words, a tendril of something I can’t quite identify winds through my rib cage. There’s a charge to it, a call to action.
I pop the rest of the cheese into my mouth and chew, using the oversized bite to buy myself time to think. Iamhungry. And it’s not as though I have anything else to do. And if I discount the sheer farce of me hanging with a trio of college bros…
Why the hell not?
I swallow and then grin, the expression feeling foreign on my face. Foreign, but welcome. Made even more so when all three of the guys beam back.
“Can I get another beer before we go?”
3
28…29…30!
I spit the mouthwash into the sink and turn on the tap, watching the water rinse away the purple liquid. Oh, blessed, minty relief. I nod my thanks to the bottle of Listerine, as well as the dusty Spider-Man Dixie cup dispenser beside it. Mouthwash had been anexcellentchoice.
One of very few excellent choices I’ve made in the past few hours, because I amdrunk.
I rest my hands on the bathroom counter and examine my reflection in the mirror. At least I still look presentable. Or…I think I do? It’s hard to tell. The mirror is stippled with water spots and toothpaste, and—I lean back to take in the smudges running the width of the glass, gripping the counter as I teeter on my heels—based on the smudges, someone’s used their finger to sketch a gigantic dick and balls on the glass after a steamy shower. A collegiate cave drawing.
Squinting through the artwork, I fluff my hair, arranging the front of the dark pixie cut into a state of classy dishevelment.Then, I check the wings of my eyeliner; the left, and as much as I can make out of the right. Not smudged. More an indication of quality product than a measure of my current state, but I’ll take it.
Next item of business: Do I need to throw up?
My lips screw to the corner in thought.Nah.
Though it wouldn’t be the worst idea. I’d shotgunned beer two because Grant didn’t think I could do it a second time. The pizza offset some of its effects, and I probably would have been okay if I hadn’t taken up the bartender on his offer of a round of shots. Twice. And then had another beer. Or two? I smile. One had even been a Bud Light.Take that, Cole.
Thinking about him makes my chest hurt, and I scowl.Ugh.Cole. Proposing a “break” because of my stupid, screwy body.
My heart stutters, and the vision in my good eye blurs with tears. The booze has softened my defenses. I imagine the outlines of the more aggressive worries pressing against the walls I put up, their sharp edges tearing through and bringing reality crashing in with them—
“No!” I roll out my shoulders, standing tall—with a steadying hand on the counter—and blink back the tears, forcing myself to breathe. This is not the time for that. Right now is fun-times memories with Ellie. Like… the last few hours with Grant and his roommates! They are delightful. Sweet puppies, all. Even if Alistair speaks exclusively in declaratives and they’ve adorned their bathroom mirror with a penis.
Anyway! There was pizza! And the bar we hitafterpizza was having a trivia night, and I crushed it! I waggle my eyebrows. I swept the classicSNLcategory, even if I’m not sure the nineties should be considered “classic”—I was born in the ninetiesand I am not “classic,” thank you very much. And then we were kicked out because I was “disrupting the game” by “shouting out answers” while “not actually on a team,” therefore “ruining the experience for paying participants.” But I got everything right, and the guys were amazed, and that’s what matters. But mostly what matters is that Idominated.
And now, I am at the house, enjoying a party filled with dudes.Dudelings!And it is time for me to go back to the dining room and soundly crush said dudelings in flip cup.Again!
My smile is huge. Oh, my jerk of a body is going to make me pay for tonight, but that is a problem for Tomorrow Ellie. Ellie of Now is Queen of the Collegiate Cave-Pups, and itrules.
But this mirror… this is unacceptable.
The corner of my bad eye picks up a familiar shade of blue, and I cock my head to confirm that it is, in fact, a bottle of Windex.Serendipity!My preferred all-purpose cleaner! I pick it up, then snag the stiff hand towel from where it hangs beside the light switch.
I look back at the mirror. A good queen leads by example, and my subjects must learn to recognize a civilized level of cleanliness.
It is decided: I shall tidy.
