How to Love Backwards

six | quinton

The sound of shattering glass pierces through the loud music and chattering of the party, catching my attention.

I whip my head around and make my way to the direction of the sound, my eyes falling onto a tall athletic figure, "Hey, watch it! How would you like it if I trashed your house and broke all of your mom's fine china?" I lock eyes with the culprit, who seems like he's had way too many drinks. "And yes, I'm talking to you, Brad."

"Uh, my name's Brock."

"Like the guy from Pokemon?"

"Pokemon?"

"Nevermind, man, just get out of my house. Try not to break anything else on your way out."

Brad doesn't say anything but bumps my shoulder in a way that lets me know that he is everything but happy. I take in a deep breath. This has been a recurring nightmare all night.

On top of that Brody's been missing, doing God knows what, leaving me to deal with people like Brad. Fuckin Brad.

I sigh my thousandth sigh since I woke up this morning, and make my way over to the spare room where a smaller and much quieter group is lingering.

My eyes scan the room for any possible disturbances but fall short when they meet hazel eyes but another voice in the room calls out to me, "Quinton, you wanna join us in seven minutes in heaven?"

I open my mouth to politely refuse but I'm interrupted before I can begin.

"Yeah, he would love to." My obnoxious brother's voice cuts in from out of nowhere. I squint at the scene ahead of me; My brother sits lazily on the couch, looking a little intoxicated by the blush dusted on his cheeks, one of his hands wrapped around the waist of a beautiful blonde.

It takes me a minute to realize I've moved from where I was standing at the entryway, to the inside of the room, to the floor where everyone seems to be sitting until they're all staring at me expectantly.

A large bottle of alcohol, which was definitely taken from my father's secret stash, sits in the middle of us all. I shoot my brother a look but he occupies himself with making a poor attempt at flirting with the blonde from before.

We're so busted when our parents come back from their business trip.

"Okay so does everyone know the rules of the game?" Brody asks in a mischievous tone but not that noticeable, at least not to anyone who isn't sober. "I know Quinton doesn't."

"Gee, way to call me out," I say flatly.

Brody diverts his attention from me and the girl who he now has on his lap (when did that happen?) and directs his next words to the hazel-eyed boy from before, "Would you do the honors of explaining this lovely game to my brother over here?"

The guy pauses, gives some sort of look to Brody, and then turns to me, "Alright I'm only explaining this once so listen up. So we spin a bottle to decide which two lucky take a shot of vodka before entering the closet," he points to the bottle in the middle of the room and then gestures to the closet, "once you're in there you do whatever you want with the other participant for seven minutes, with each other consent of course,"

I nod. The rules seem simple enough.

"So who's spinning first?" I hear myself ask before my mind can catch up.

"You can!" Brody flashes his not-so-pearly whites. "Thanks for volunteering." He says as he passes an empty beer bottle.

I scowl but school my expression before reluctantly taking the bottle from him and with a flick of my wrist, I spin it.