He flinched. He looked away from me.
Sensing I’d scored a point, I kept pushing. “I mean, have you ever even been to a party? How do you even know what they’re like?”
He picked his plate back up. He took a bite of scrambled eggs.
“Someday, you’re going to wake up,” I said. “And you’re going to be thirty years old. And someone’s going to ask you how you spend your twenties. And you’ll say—”
“Okay,” he said. “Fine.”
“Really?” I said.
“Yeah,” he said. “You can have the party here. But no drugs. And if I decide that it’s over, at any point, I’m kicking people out. You got that?”
I nodded. “Absolutely. You’ll see, Griffin. It’ll be really low key. I promise.”
He glowered at his plate. “I’m kind of out of bacon here.”
“I’ll get you more,” I said, leaping to my feet. “How many pieces do you want?”
“How many are left?” he asked.
I brought over the skillet. He took them all.
“I really appreciate this,” I said to him.
“Yeah, yeah.” He seemed very interested in his bacon.
I threw my arms around him. “Thanks.”
He stiffened. “Um, doll...” He turned his head. Our faces were inches from each other. “You’re welcome.” His voice was different. Deeper. Scratchier.
* * *
My art appreciation classmates encircled Griffin, hanging on every word he said. He kept trying to get away from them, but they followed him everywhere.
He managed to shake them long enough to pull me aside. “How am I supposed to watch the door with those girls in my way?”
I shrugged. “They think you’re interesting.”
He rolled his eyes. “You did it on purpose, didn’t you? You’re trying to distract me.”
“No!” I said. I turned away from him and raised my voice. “Let’s play some drinking games, everyone.”
There were only about five guests at the party. We could easily play something all together in a group.
“That will keep them occupied and off your back,” I said. “And I’ll be doing something with you, so you won’t be distracted.”
He gave me his suspicious look, but he let it slide.
Everyone gathered and squeezed onto my couch and chairs in the living room.
“So,” I said. “What do you guys want to play? I’ve got cards. We could play Asshole. Or King’s Cup. Or Never Have I Ever.”
One of my art class friends giggled. “Why don’t we let Griffin decide?”
We all turned to Griffin, who was perched on the couch, glaring at the door. “Look, uh, I don’t even know what those games are. Play whatever you want.”
“What?” said my art class friend. “How can you not know?”
“Haven’t you ever played a drinking game before?”
“Have you been living under a rock?”
Griffin’s jaw twitched. “Kind of, I guess. That a problem?”
The girls drew back at the sharpness of his tone.
Griffin saw their reaction. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“Clara, you pick,” I said.
“Well,” she said, “we should definitely play Never Have I Ever. Griffin can start, and he can say that he never played Never Have I Ever.”
He turned to me, looking lost.
“It’s kind of like the truth part of truth or dare,” I explained. “Someone tells the group something they’ve never done, and anyone who has done it has to drink.”
He shrugged. “Okay. So, that’s my turn, then. What Clara said.”
Everyone else drank.
It went to the next person. She grinned. “Okay, um... never have I ever... had a threesome.”
I drank a swig of my beer. No one else did. I forgot that I was playing with the goody-goodies from school. Oops.
They all gasped.
“Leigh! You did not!” said Clara.