UPRISE

010

Pluto is proud of Marc. After all, he has managed to cram 60 people into his apartment, each of them having brought two bottles of hard liquor (which is the only way to go when you can't tap more than a bottle a month). The room is dimly lit, with only a few lamps brought in by several different apartments. Even the music is popping, even though they only have one speaker for all of them to listen to.

As she ducks through the crowd, Pluto stops at the island. There, she sees Jasmine, Noah, and Aeryn all lined up. In their hands are glasses, each with shots poured in them.

Pluto digs her way in with them, filling her cup with a shot, and then another, and then another. She whoops with laughter. Aeryn can feel her stomach tightening at the sight of the warm brown liquid.

"Isn't that a lot?" She asks Pluto.

"Yes!" Pluto shouts back. She leans against Noah, her face resting against the warm flesh of his cheek. Pluto had expected his pale skin to feel much colder.

Maybe it's the liquid courage (it is definitely the liquid courage), but Noah doesn't feel anxious at her touch. "Your voice is so pretty. It's smooth like honey."

"And you are too cute," Pluto giggles, sloppily moving her fingers up to Noah's face. She bops his nose. "When this is all over, you should come see my band."

"You sing?" Noah asks, leaning backwards. "I play guitar!"

Jasmine leans over and wraps her arm around Noah, pulling him closer to her. He's too drunk to be hanging this close to Pluto, and friends protect friends. He scoops a shot up off the table and raises it in the air. "Are we ready?"

The others turn to Rinn, whose pale fingers timidly wrap around her glass.

"You don't have to," Jasmine warns.

Rinn knows she doesn't have to, but she raises the glass anyway. "Cheers."

The four of them down the shots. Once the fire has rolled down his throat, Noah whoops out loud, pumping his fists in the air. Maybe he doesn't look like it, but alcohol was his bread and butter in high school (what better way to piss off his parents than overconsuming the blood of Christ?)

Next to him, Rinn coughs. Jasmine rubs her back, but Rinn brushes her off.

"How old are you?" Jasmine asks Rinn as she moves to pour herself more alcohol.

Rinn leans forward, pressing her hands against her knees. Man, do people actually like this stuff? It tastes awful, and it feels worse. Still, she holds up her glass. "Twenty-one."

"You're like, two years older than me," Jasmine laughs, as she tops off Rinn's glass. Then, she turns to offer Pluto and Noah more to drink, but she only catches a glimpse of Pluto darting through the crowd.

While she had originally left to trail after Noah, Jasmine had gotten quite distracted. After all, she had seen Wren leaning against a wall, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. She caught his dark eyes in the crowd, perhaps even darker than hers, and so she couldn't help but step forward.

"Wren," she calls his name, and so he turns to face her.

"Pluto," he echoes her call. With a smirk on his face, he straightens his body, though he doesn't leave his spot.

"Tell me," she whispers, until she is finally pressed up against him. The space is tight, but not tight enough that they need to be touching. She hopes Wren notices. "Why did you come to a party if you are just going to lean against a wall?"