Playlist

1. "Congratulations" - Post Malone

The lights are dim in the room. The music is loud, intoxicating; the faint hum of talking and breathing filling the air the music isn't taking up. A giggle here, a shuffle there. The rustle of ice as it's being moved around the cooler, the pop of a beer being opened. Aaron's house is massive and beautiful; your typical upper-middle class suburban home. Well-furnished, two story living room with floor-to-ceiling windows. Dark hardwood floors throughout, cream walls, open floor plan. An incredible foyer, white trim, a chandelier hanging in the foyer. Marble countertops, stainless steel appliances, exposed ceiling beams - a beautiful mix of rustic and modern. The air is smoky, the air smelling like cigarettes, bud, alcohol, sweat and way too much perfume. Red solo cups and beer bottles add to the decor. Bodies move together to the music, some hands in the air and some on others.

I'm in the kitchen, watching others interact. I check my phone - nothing - and shove it in my pocket once more. The bass of the music rushes through my body, echoing in my bones. There's a couple pushed up against the stove, making out. A couple girls are by the fridge, showing each other their phones. Of course, there's that one guy getting another drink - his fourth past his limit - and he's making a fool of himself. After taking in my surroundings for a few more moments, I make my way towards the back door, wanting to be outside.

Aaron's backyard is just as beautiful as the rest of his home: perfect landscaping, a massive heated pool. The porch has a wooden awning decorated in string lights, hanging plants, and expensive outdoor furniture. Down the stairs from the porch, there's a patio area also decorated in string lights and outdoor furniture. Chairs surround a stone firepit which is lit. Some people are hanging out around the firepit, some are hanging out around and in the pool, some are playing cornhole in the back corner of the yard.

I make my way to a bench backed up to the fence. Ivy hangs delicately on the fence. A birdbath sits next to the bench, moss and ivy decorating the dark stone. Sitting on the bench, I dig my cigarette case out of my pocket, take one out, and light it. Smoke fills my lungs in sweet release, and I watch as one guy pushes his friend into the pool. The pushee pulls the pusher in as well, and I smirk to myself.

"Dumbasses," I hear, and I look up to see Aaron. Smiling brightly, he sits next to me and kisses my cheek. "Hey, beautiful."

"Finally got away from your hosting duties?" I ask as I offer him a cigarette.

He takes one and lights it, breathing in a long drag. "I had to handle two fucks fucking in my parents room. One guy threw up in the guest bathroom - not in the toilet - and I had to run to the store to buy more liquor. I think the kids will be all right for now." He smirks, that beautiful, wild smirk I feel in love with in tenth grade. Aaron and I have known each other since fourth grade, started crushing on each other in tenth grade, and didn't get the courage to tell each other until sophomore year of college.

We're losers, I know.

"I'm glad you came," he leans forward on his knees, looking over at me.

"Of course I came. I almost have a domestic obligation as the host's girlfriend to be here." I smile, taking another drag before ashing in the grass.

Both of us watch people playing in the pool, losing articles of clothing slowly but surely. After a moment, he leans back, his shoulder pressed to mine. "We graduated college... How fucking crazy is that?"

"I know. I still feel like I have to wake up early in the morning and listen to Dr. Scott's terrible jokes."

"They weren't that terrible," he smiles over at me, and I laugh, shaking my head. A cool breeze rolls through, combatting the heavy humidity of Georgia's summer nights. I lean my head on his shoulder, taking a deep breath.