semi-automatic ; j.d

fourty two ; the basement

mia is breaking her promise.

being careful, in fact, isn't something that she's doing as she downs what is probably her sixth shot.

zach swallows his own, setting the small shot glass on the kitchen counter top. "jesus fucking christ. i wanna dance."

"then dance," says mia with an amused giggle. as a sort of self-promise she's already had the mental discussion about not getting totally hammered, but that doesn't mean that she has to stay sober.

running a hand through his brown curls, zach nods triumphantly and sloppily pulls himself up onto the counter top. "it's britney, bitch!" he yells, starting to do a bunch of random hip rotations and booty shaking.

because this is absolutely hilarious and mia doesn't want to ever forget it, she takes her phone out and records a snapchat video of zach dancing like he is the shit.

"let's do more shots!" exclaims the brown haired boy as he runs his hands over his face. somehow he manages to get down without falling over.

zach pours them another round of shots, which isn't really the best idea but even so mia goes along with it. the alcohol burns down the back of her throat and she makes a face.

"that tastes gross," mia tells him, shaking her head. "seriously, what the hell is that?"

he looks down at the bottle before shrugging. "i dunno, something cheap and available. d'you wanna go to the basement? i think we should go to the basement."

she's never been at this particular house before, so she doesn't exactly know what to expect as zach tugs on her wrist and leads her to the stairs.

okay, so it's not a wicked sex orgy-that was one of her guesses. and there's no illegal dog fighting ring or anything of that nature, either. however there is group of people passing around a bowl packed with weed, so i guess that's kinda similar.

an important thing to know about zachary lancaster is that he's pretty much friends with everybody. he's the guy that makes a party, a party.

so as him and mia come down the stairs, he's greeted by at least ten different people standing around a ping pong table being used for beer pong.

"yo, zach, what's up?!" exclaims a twenty-three year old senior by the name of colin. he's a public relations major with your typical fuckboy quaff of dark hair.

zach goes to greet him back, but stops when he sees a girl in his journalism class that he absolutely fucking hates.

"ugh, gross," he rolls his eyes and then lazily nods at colin. "yeah, hey. so who's ass am i slaying in beer pong tonight?" he asks while gesturing his arms out.

colin grins. "you and mia against me and denice?"

zach pretends to gag. he can't stand denice wetherwax to save his life. but he's not there to start world war roast fest, so he finally agrees. "yeah, why not?"

mia, on the other hand, pretty much sucks at beer pong. and the alcohol in her system probably isn't going to help with that. "can i just watch?" she pleads, giving zach a look.

"no you can't just watch," replies the green-eyed boy. "i need your help to distract the irrelevant ass bitch we're playing against!"

she raises an eyebrow. "do you mean denice?"

zach looks over the petite girl's shoulder as colin approaches the girl in question to ask her to play. he quickly nods his head. "yeah, whatever her name is. i've known her since sophomore year, she's pitifully awful. like stab-myself-in-the-eye-with-a-fork awful."