B.U. | Grizz Visser (The Society)

bear pong

part ten.

As Chase approached the group, each of them noticeably stiffened. Sam recognized the Ring Leader, and Becca was wary because of it.

The boy was dressed in a white tee-shirt and black jeans, paired with greenish brown suede boots. A stain on his left shoulder became evermore prominent with each step he took, a splash mark from what must have been alcohol.

The tall, rather buff boy wrapped an arm around Grizz's neck, pulling him in for a half-sideways hug. His eyes trailed Sam, then moved to Becca, lingering on the girl's face for far too long.

"Hey," Grizz chuckled, pulling his head out from under Chase's strong grip. He wasn't nearly drunk enough for any rowdiness with Chase.

"We're playing pong," Chase slurred, a smile curling his upper lip, "come be my partner," he commanded. "Bring your girlfriend," he added, nodding shamelessly toward Becca.

Becca's back hunched instinctively. She could feel Chase's gaze on her, burning at her cheeks like a metal brander.

"She's not my girlfriend," Grizz replied, bringing his red solo cup to his lips and sipping the burning liquid. It slithered down his throat like a snake, lacing his esophagus with venom as it traveled toward his centre. "She's just a friend." He looked to Becca quickly, as if to confirm their truth, but found himself staring at Sam from the corner of his eye. Sam kept his eyes on Grizz, watching as the boy moved, drank, and became increasingly flustered with every passing moment.

"Well, then bring your girl who is a friend," Chase chuckled, shaking his head slightly as he backed away, sauntering over toward the pong table on the patio outside.

"Becca?" Grizz turned toward the girl, raising a brow at her in question. Then, looking up slightly, relaxing as the all-too-familiar boy returned to his centre of attention, Grizz spoke once more, "Sam?"

"You go ahead, Grizz," Becca reached a hand up and lightly tapped the Visser boy on the upper arm, "we're going to walk around for a bit. We'll come find you."

After a moment, Sam and Becca turned on their heels, leaving the boy in the kitchen and disappearing into the crowd. But not before one last exchange between the boys, each of the turning to look at one another before walking their separate directions.

Grizz made his way to the pong table, just in time for Chase to hand him a ball. Holding his arm up with his elbow at ninety degrees, Grizz attempted calculating a trajectory for his shot, but missed horribly. The ball flew far over the end of the table, causing the other team, consisting of two other boys from the football squad, to yell "air ball!"

After several rounds of near-miss and amazing trick shots, Grizz felt his confidence begin to swell. Sure, he'd missed so many shots that 'air ball' had now been officially changed to 'bear ball', but he was feeling good. He was tipsy, to say the least, and as everyone on this planet knows, people do stupid and reckless things when they're intoxicated. The boy chugged another cup of some sort of beer, then tossed it onto the wood patio with a groan. The other boys laughed at Grizz's disdain for drinking any more, and continued to shoot on his cups.

Once the game concluded and both parties were significantly drunker, each of the boys disbanded and made their way into the house. Grizz held a cup firmly in his grip, some kind of beer mixed with something stronger- he wasn't sure, exactly. His eyes scanned the crowd for any sign of Sam, who'd been on his mind all night. He wanted to talk to him, about what, he didn't know. All that he did know was talking to Sam was better than talking to anyone else at this party.

His feet carried him through the kitchen and to the front entryway, finding the front door wide open with multiple people hanging around on the front porch, some laid out on the lawn. To the left of the front door was a wooden bench, where a small girl with long brown hair and a red-headed boy with the most beautiful eyes in the world were sat, conversing about nothing in particular.

Grizz rounded the front door frame, his left shoulder smashing into the hard surface with a loud thud. The noise caused Becca to turn around wide eyed, with Sam diverting his attention only moments later. Grizz's cheeks burned with embarrassment as he composed himself, tapping on the frame for a moment while chuckling, then fully rounding the corner towards them.

"Hey, Grizz," Becca smiled as the boy approached, "how was pong?" she asked, signing along with her words for Sam's better understanding.

"G-good," Grizz slurred slightly, leaning his weight on the porch itself. It was sturdy, thank God.

"I was just about to go find the bathroom," Becca explained, standing up from her seat on the bench and tucking her hair behind her ear, "I'll be right back." Once she disappeared from view, Grizz replaced her in the seat next to Sam.

"How are you liking the party?" Grizz asked, twiddling his fingers and his thumbs in his lap, his ankles crossed one over the other like a teenage school girl.

"It's fun," Sam replied softly, "I don't really know any people though."

"Neither do I," Grizz chuckled lightly, "that's why I'm glad you're here."

Sam smiled weakly, tapping his foot against the porch. He leant forward, crossing his arms over his chest and sharply inhaling.

"Is that the only reason?" Sam asked, raising his brows at the taller boy. His face softened with his words.

Grizz paused for a moment, the alcohol impairing his conversational abilities, then slurred, "I like spending time with you. You mean a lot to me."

Sam smiled at the boy, knowing, all-too-well, the effects of the alcohol in his system. His lips were hard to read as his words became more and more jumbled with every passing syllable.

Silence fell over the two of them, each of their minds with so much to say but no words to speak. They were content with each other, yet frustrated at the same time. This wasn't the time or place to have an important kind of conversation, and they both knew that, but for some reason they felt the need to discuss it. Like two converging lines, their actions were bound together.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or the fact that he'd just won a round of beer pong that made his confidence sky rocket, but Grizz was the first to choke out a word.

"Sam," he spoke slowly, his gaze locked on the boy's ocean eyes, contemplating how he should word his next sentence. Should he be blunt and tell Sam how much he means to him? Should he be mysterious and edgy, and say something vague? Should he be romantic and try to hold his hand? He scanned his surroundings as he found himself lost in thought, his eyes landing on the crowd of people around them. There were a few boys from the football team standing on the other end of the porch with several girls, and some other classmates of his out in the yard.

And though they weren't looking whatsoever, Grizz felt their eyes on him. He could feel the pressure of people watching him in this moment, and the potential embarrassment he could be risking for himself. He thought about what Chase had once said to Sam, how he'd treated him, and, for a moment, imagined himself in the same situation. He pictured the sport he loved becoming a torture device for him. He imagined his mother, enraged, reminding him that he'd never be the son she deserved. He was trapped, a snowman inside a snow globe, being shaken to the core for pure entertainment value.

His palms began to sweat as his anxiety got the better of him, causing him to shake his head to snap himself back into his conversation with Sam. "Do you want another drink?" Grizz finally muttered.