Cold and Charisma (BoyxBoy)

Chapter Thirty

"No, Pierce, I said the drinks go on the left side of the table, not the right—"

The black-haired boy cut me off abruptly, irritation sharp in his voice. "Then you fucking do it, you asshole. Seriously, Wilson — it's a rager. Carter's not gonna give a fuck where you put his alcohol as long as it's here."

Pierce dropped the pack of beer in the middle of the table, tearing the thin plastic tablecloth in the process. I clenched my jaw, forcing myself not to scream.

He was just as insolent as the rest of them, and somehow I was the only one taking this seriously. I felt like the parent of the group, desperately trying to keep a house full of jocks from burning itself down.

"You're right," I muttered, threading string through the annoyingly intricate banner I'd bought, "But could you please just move it anyway? I'm kind of busy."

The banner was supposed to read Happy Birthday, but in my frustration I'd forgotten to tie the H. Now it just said 'Birtday'. Way to go, Archer.

"Man, I don't know my lefts from my rights. Get Drew to do it." He brushed his hands off on his jeans as if he'd actually done something. "Drew, could you — wait. Where's Drew?"

I dropped the banner, scanning the dining room. Familiar heads — blonde, brunette — crowded the space, varsity jackets everywhere. But one person was missing.

Drew.

"Pierce, where the fuck — I mean, where's Drew?" I had to physically stop myself from cursing. I was getting way too irked out by the whole situation and honestly I just wanted to fucking go home at this point.

"Drew? Maybe he's off fucking some chick. A little bit of pre-gaming never hurt anyone, if ya' know what I mean." He winked, thinking with his nether regions.

"Are you serious? You're not funny, Pierce. Bring the rest of the stuff in, I'll give him a call." With a loud, exasperated sigh, I stood up and walked outside to call Drew.

The other end rang a few times before he picked up, although begrudgingly, "You were supposed to be here an hour ago," I said carefully. "Where are you? You said you'd bring Carter's Twisted Teas." Or whatever it was he wanted.

I rubbed the back of my neck as I waited. The tension at the lunch table over the past few days had been unbearable — you could cut it with a knife. But this was Carter's birthday. Drew wouldn't skip that. We'd known each other forever.

"Carter doesn't even drink Twisted Teas," Drew snapped. "He drinks White Claws—" He went quiet, then added bitterly, "You know what? It doesn't even matter. I'm not going."

My stomach dropped. "You are going," I insisted. "He's our best friend. I get that you're mad at him — even though you won't tell me why — but he needs you here. We all do."

"He doesn't fucking need me."

So far, the party wasn't going at all how I planned. Not with Pierce messing up the tables, and the others just tossing their football around the yard instead of helping me set up! Now Drew's refusal to come to his best friend's birthday party added to my stress.

Before I could reply, I looked down at my watch and read the time. It was already six. The party starts at seven thirty! "You know what, I don't have time for this. Do what you want, Drew. But you'd be a pretty shitty friend if you didn't come."

I could tell he was surprised at my choice of words on the other end of the line. Maybe I'd been hanging out with Riley a bit too much; I started to pick up on some of his lingo... Including his favorite curse words.