HIS FAVORITE GINGER ✓

TWENTY-TWO

"WATCH IT!" ALEJANDRO FLARES OUT. The lesbian couple barely spares him any bit of their attention despite Alejandro landing on the hinges of the door. They continue to neck each other as if their lives depend on it.

"Stupid teenagers and their hormones." mutters Alejandro even though he isn't one to talk. He is already pissed off to the core and has no idea why. He has no idea why he is extra snappy today. What he knows is that he doesn't so want to be at this party right now. He has no choice though. The past weeks - scratch that, since he moved to Seattle especially that damned school, his life has been a mess. He's solely present in this party to have fun and if it requires fun derived from alcohol and what teenagers nowadays call 'dancing', he won't mind. Anything to make him forget about all the current bullshit in his life.

They say lab projects, the duo bumping into each other - not always accidentally - and parties are the origins of all teenage highschool drama, all clichés. Parties are metaphorically and literally a breeding ground for problems and his biggest mistake will be coming to this damned one.

Pop music roars from every angle, booze and vomit - he's not surprised it is too soon - stench from every area, shameless people occupy every corner and every normal people - for now - fill every floor.

Typical.

"Hey you gat any vodka? Of course you have this is a freaking party not that every party serves vodka you're a bartender you should know." Taking a deep breath from literally avoiding full stops and commas, Alejandro mentally slams his forehead on the bar counter as its tender raises an amused eyebrow at him.

Stupid, stupid.

It isn't his fault he can't fathom someone having so much muscles - apart from the realm of his imagination. Alejandro eyes him up and down as he pours him a glass and handed it over to me. The elegant ebony resembled a black Channing Tatum and even merely looking at him, the junk in his undies jerked.

Alejandro averts his kinky gaze from the cock Medusa — the bartender. A single molecule of ethanol hasn't even tainted his system and yet, his naughty little thing is already seeking for reception like an antenna.

"Hello Alejandro. Ooh that rhymed." Giggles interrupt Alejandro's ocular outercourse and he turns his head to the culprit.

"Who in the drunken hell are you?" Alejandro scrunches his face at the tall and slender girl who just bares her teeth in an undoubtedly alcoholic grin.

"Scarlett." She took the ginger's hand out of the blue in her lanky ones and shakes it like she has vibrators for arms. Alejandro becomes so alarmed he almost slaps the shit out of her doll face.

It takes Alejandro little time to remember she was the girl who called out his name to Grayson the first day he ever spoke to him.

Oh that day! It feels like yesterday. Alejandro never wanted him to remember his name. Then this bitch spilled the rotten beans. And then the fainting. Alejandro's guts shrink into his belly, cringing at the cheesy mental picture of him in Grayson arms, his lifeless arms flailing around like a sex doll with a low battery, Grayson speeding through the halls with a panic dragged all over his face. . .

"Alejandro!"

"What!" He jumps off the barstool, heart pounding against his ribcage and his fists woven to attack.