Page 31 of Twisted Shot
“Hey,” Jesse calls across the room, weaving toward him with a Solo cup in each hand. “You good?”
Theo just gives him a look.
Jesse laughs. “C’mon, we’re a hit. I’ve been hearing ‘Luigi can get it’ all night.”
Theo groans. “What does that even mean?”
“It means people are into you, bruh. Just hang in there,” Jesse says, slapping him on the back. “You’re doing great. Party’s lit. You’ve got popcorn in your teeth, but you’re doing great.”
Theo wipes his mouth, muttering, “What the hell am I doing?”
Jesse spins away toward the sound system just as someone cranks the volume. Flea is in the middle of the room, cowboy hat long forgotten, slow-dancing with a rubber skeleton like it’s prom night, completely unbothered. Carter’s in the corner, trying to charm a brunette dressed as a sexy devil.
Near the drinks table, the rookie Belanger is awkwardly adjusting the collar of a yellow-and-blue jumpsuit—Wolverine, technically. He almost pulls it off, but the baby face and lack of beard make him look less like Hugh Jackman and more like Wolverine’s enthusiastic little cousin.
The front door swings open, and Theo’s eyes are drawn gratefully to the new arrivals. Natalie enters first in a champagne-colored flapper-style dress, waving a long cigarette holder like she’s stepped right out of the prohibition era. Behind her is a figure cloaked in black robes and a full skeleton mask carrying an enormous scythe. Theo doesn’t need to see his face to recognize the posture. That’s Jake dressed as theGrim Reaper. No doubt hiding behind the mask to avoid being cornered by his own players.
But then there’s Mila.
She steps into the room and Theo forgets how to breathe.
Her blonde hair is styled in the illusion of a 1920s bob, tucked and pinned into soft waves, gleaming under the low light like spun gold. She’s wearing a jet-black flapper dress that clings in all the right places, the beaded fringe swishing with every sway of her hips. A thin, glittering headband rests across her forehead, artfully askew. Elbow-length black gloves hug her arms, and long strands of pearls drape down her chest, disappearing into the curve of her generous cleavage.
Theo stares, heat spreading across his chest, which happens to be naked under his overalls. She looks elegant. Confident. Dangerous.
And so goddamn sexy it makes his knees feel untrustworthy.
Theo, on the other hand, is dressed in shorts so ridiculously small they would fit an eight-year-old and a fake mustache. He curses Jesse silently for convincing him this costume would be a hit.
He grabs a drink off the nearest table and takes a long, unnecessary sip—just to stop himself from doing something stupid, like walking straight over and tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her upstairs.Party’s over, friends. Get the hell out of my house.
Natalie spots Theo and grabs Mila’s hand, pulling her towards him.
“Theo!” Natalie shouts happily, throwing her arms around him in an enthusiastic, if unprecedented, hug. Natalie smells nice, like vanilla and cinnamon.
“Hey,” he says surprised. His voice comes out embarrassingly and uncharacteristically squeaky.
Mila gazes up at through her lashes, her smile slow and devastating. “Hi, Luigi.”
His brain short-circuits. There’s too much happening. The glint of her dress, the curve of her lips, the pearls, the gloves, the bob. He hears the words in his head—You look beautiful. I’m glad you came. I missed you—but none of them makeit to his mouth.
Jake, still hidden behind the skull mask of his grim reaper costume, leans in and claps Theo on the back.
“He’s malfunctioning,” he says. “System error. Pretty girl detected.”
Theo shoots him a look, but Jake just shrugs and steps back.
Mila arches an eyebrow. “How did Jesse convince you to throw a party?”
As if summoned by his name, Jesse bursts into view, sliding across the hardwood like he’s doing a dramatic entrance on stage. His red hat is backwards, his mustache is hanging off one cheek, and he’s carrying what appears to be a ladle full of punch.
“It’s a-me, Mario!” he shouts, throwing his arm around Natalie exuberantly, spilling punch on the floor. “What’s up, sis? Who are you this year?”
Natalie grimaces, taking the ladle from him before further disaster strikes. “We’re characters from the Great Gatsby. I’m Jordan Baker and Mila is Daisy Buchanan.”
“Noice, noice,” Jesse nods appreciatively, though Theo can tell he’s lost interest.
“Jesse, no pictures, remember? You need to be on your best behavior.”
