Page 10 of Perfectly Us

“Douche popsicle.”

“What does that even mean?”

I ignore my obnoxious best friend because I get another text.

Shiloh:Ok. If it’s still cool for me to come, I’ll head over after work.

Me:Sounds good!

I send him the address before hopping up from the bed and stepping into the connecting bathroom. I primp in the mirror just like Ruben was doing earlier. My light brown hair swoops in my face, and I run my fingers through it to mess it up a little and give it that sexy, tousled look.

Ruben’s phone rings. “Hey, Mom.” A pause. “Si.”

He switches to Spanish, and I follow some of the conversation but not all of it. Being his friend for so many years, I’ve picked up on the basics of the language and can converse with him and his parents a little bit, but I’m far from fluent.

“She wanted to tell me they made it to their hotel,” Ruben says after getting off the phone. “And to remind me that if they hear about another party, I’m grounded for all of eternity.”

“I hope you like your room, then. You’ll be seeing a lot of it in the next few months.”

“That’sifthey find out.” He goes over to his closet, searching through his shoes. “She hopes you and I have a fun night of pizza and scary movies.”

I laugh. “It’s not a total lie. Therewillbe pizza. And beer. Lots of beer.”

Carlos, Ruben’s older brother, bought the alcohol for us. He’s the only one out of Ruben’s three brothers who still lives nearby. The other two moved away—one to California and the other to Texas—and have highly successful careers in the medical field. Carlos is an IT guy for some fancy insurance place.

Ruben and I leave his room and rush down the stairs. I make a monster-sized pitcher of spiked Kool-Aid and help him set out the plastic cups and bottles of vodka. We fill a few coolers with ice and beer and throw in some regular sodas and water too for anyone who doesn’t want to drink alcohol.

The doorbell rings.

“Delivery for Ruben?” the girl says, holding a stack of pizzas.

We carry the boxes inside and place them on the counter before he tips her and she leaves.

“Hey,” Ruben says as I shove a slice of pepperoni into my mouth, another slice already in hand prepared to be devoured next. “Save some for the rest of the party.”

“I’m hungry,” I say with my mouth full, so it sounds more like “Uhm hungray.”

“You’re always hungry.” He pops the cap on a bottle of beer and takes a swig. “I swear your stomach is like a bottomless pit.”

“Just like my ass.”

Ruben chokes on his beer.

Around eight forty-five, cars begin to pull up, the headlights shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room. Footsteps sound on the porch, as do giggles, before the doorbell rings again.

“Time to party.” Ruben winks at me and opens the door.

***

More people show up than we anticipated.

Friends we invited brought people, and those people in turn brought their friends. There are people I’ve never seen before, but that doesn’t matter to me. I make my way through the throng of partygoers, stopping to talk with some girls, then chat up the football team.

Ruben said once that he envies my ability to make friends wherever I go. But talking is easy for me. Too easy sometimes.

“Davenport!” Dylan says, slapping me on the back. “Wanna brownie?”

I eye the plastic container, tempted, but sigh. “Nah, I’m good, man. Maybe later.”