Pieces of Him

Parties, Drinks, Lies

@bathearts thank you for the amazing cover! ;*

Cory's POV

December 31, 2015. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Streamers burst out, showering everybody in slivers of flashing silver, red, and gold. The music swelled, neon lights flashing through the dark night. Excitement spread like a wildfire. Cheers raised the roof.

Among the clamor, sprawled on the couch, 17-year-old Drew yelled in Cory's ear. "Happy New Year, bro! Only one more year till college."

"Drink?" Cory offered.

"You bet, "Drew answered, taking a swig of the alcohol, a satisfied grin crossing his face. "Damn. This is good stuff."

"Slower, man. You're the designated driver. Can't have you drunk," Cory flashed a smirk at his best friend.

Drew rolled his eyes good-naturedly at Cory. "And you're gonna be wasted in thirty minutes."

Contrary to Drew's prediction, more than half an hour later, Cory was barely drunk. He ambled around for a while, avoiding people who were displaying too much PDA, chatting to random people, swerving out of the way of people who were drunk beyond belief.

Girls came up to him, dressed unbelievably scantily (Cory edged out of their way), flirting, not-so-subtly trying to hint him in, giggling over his eyes and his whatever. Cory didn't want to know. But then he heard one girl gush about his...abs? and nearly choked in incredulity. Seriously? Like she could see through his shirt. He averted any advances upon him, not caring about them one little bit.

Getting bored, he grabbed more drinks, fancying a particular sparkling blue cocktail. He whittled away time, chatting with some guys, doing some random stuff, and getting progressively drunker.

Drew stopped by, and though he was impressed with how much liquor Cory was holding, cautioned Cory to slow down and told Cory that to call him when he was ready to leave.

A bit later, Cory lay on the couch, his eyes scanning the party absentmindedly. He caught a familiar flash of long wavy brown hair weaving through the crowd. He stood, though slightly unsteadily, and squeezed through the mass of bodies, ignoring the stench of sweat and booze, finally reaching the slim figure, decorated in expensive accessories.

"Happy 2 months anniversary, Melissa. You look amazing," Cory looped his arm around her and took in his girlfriend in her silvery navy dress, trying not to retch from the odor of her sickly rose perfume. He hid his surprise that she seemed to be acting decently, talking, laughing with her friend Jolie.

She looked at him with a thinly veiled look of disgust, her lip curling in distaste, "You're slurring. And of course I look amazing."

Never mind, Cory shrugged inwardly, trying to quell his annoyance. Of course she wouldn't act decently. This was Melissa he was talking about.

Restraining himself from letting his temper rise, he settled with enunciating each word sarcastically, "News flash, when you're drunk, you slur."

Cory clapped his hand over his mouth in mock surprise, "That is such an unbelievable discovery!"

"You're drunk," Melissa waved her hand dismissively.

Cory rolled his eyes, tacitly saying: Obvious much?

"Don't toss your cookies on this dress," she continued, wrinkling her nose. "I had my servant fly all the way to France to get someone to tailor it. Do you know how much that costs? I'm not going to allow you to ruin this custom-made dress just because you had one too many drinks."