Delaney James seemed to have it all-a Manhattan townhouse, a thriving career as a fashion journalist, and a handsome, high-powered husband, but when he announces he's leaving her, Delaney's picture-perfect life unravels. Heartbroken and in need of a...
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December 21st, 2007
I can't believe I'm throwing a party without parental supervision. A real party - with kids of all ages, music, food, and since Greyson's teammates got here, a keg and more bottles of vodka than I've ever seen in one room. I'll just have to make sure no evidence is left behind, because if my parents ever find out about this party, my life as I know it will be over.
They're visiting Duke University with Adelaide this weekend, and Greyson's parents are away for their anniversary. Jo's parents live in the next neighborhood, so unless the party gets rowdy and a neighbor rats me out, we're in the clear.
Greyson's birthday is December Twentieth, and it's always overshadowed by Christmas. Ever since we met, I've made it a point to celebrate him as best as I could - A wiffle ball and bat set when he told me he wanted to be a professional baseball player. His first surfboard. His own Tamagotchi after he stole mine. A Nintendo DS - because everyone else seems to ignore it, and if you ask me, December Twentieth is the best day of the year, because that's when the love of my life was born.
I tried to keep the invite list short. Close friends only. But, like most parties, once word got out it turned into a rager. Red Solo cups half full of mixed drinks, straight vodka, and Pepsi are scattered all over the living room tables and kitchen counters. Abandoned pizza slices are lying on paper plates. My front door continuously slams shut as more kids arrive - their voices carrying through the house as they briefly say hello to me, before finding the people that actually invited them. Music blasts from the stereo in the basement, ascending up the staircase and bouncing off the cream-colored walls.
"We should play a game," I hear someone say as I make my way down the basement stairs and sit on the couch next to Greyson. He drapes his arm behind me and presses a kiss against my temple. "McKinnie. It's your birthday. You pick the game."
"Uh, okay. How about never have I -"
"How about seven minutes in heaven?" Ripley Payne interrupts, sauntering through the crowd like the demonic enchantress she is. "Unless, that game is too juvenile. What do you think, Greyson?"
"Um..." He sits up and clears his throat, pulling at the collar of his white button-down shirt uncomfortably as he looks to me for approval. I've never been to a high school party, let alone thrown one, so I don't know if a game we played in middle school is still considered cool. Then again, if Greyson spins that bottle and it lands on me, I might finally get the kiss I've been dreaming about since I was ten years old. So, I shrug my shoulders, feigning indifference, and take a sip of his vodka-infused Pepsi. "I guess we could play that."
"Alright, then." Turning so her ass is in his face, she bends down, flirtatiously glancing at him over her shoulder. "Let's have some fun."
She grabs the closest bottle and empties the remaining liquid into her cup before placing it in the center of the table and whistles for everyone's attention.
