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Chris ignores our conversation as he opens the first bottle and fills up four tumblers.
He passes them around in silence and then looks at all of us. “No matter what happens, we’ll always have our friendship. We’ll always have each other’s backs. Right?”
We all nod, bright smiles on our faces, as Ella shakes her head.
“Thanks, El’s for looking after us tonight.” He winks at her and downs his drink.
We all follow, downing and hitting the tumblers on the table. We down another one and start eating.
Ella shrieks as I extend my arms, lifting her up. “Don’t drop me!”
I’m lying down on the faux-fur rug in the den, bench pressing her. I can’t even remember how this bet started. Sometime after we finished the first bottle of whiskey.
Ella is an amazing cheerleader, and she can easily keep her toned body in a perfect plank as I bring her up and down for the second time. She’s keeping her arms straight by her side and her legs crossed over at her ankles. With a hand behind her neck and one tightly wrapped high around her upper thigh, I lift her up and down a second time.
“Fucking hell, El’s. You’re so much heavier than you look,” I say through gritted teeth as I repeat the movement a couple more times.
I’m hot from the effort and alcohol. The tipsiness forces a smile on my face, and I laugh with her when I suddenly drop her, and she crashes on my chest.
“Jake!” she shouts, playfully slapping my chest.
“You moved!” I cackle back.
“That was seven,” Luke says as he pours everyone another glass.
Everyone except Ella of course. She hasn’t touched a drop of alcohol tonight, with her brother’s watchful eyes on her.
“Two more than you,” I smile at him.
We all down our glasses and turn to Chris who’s taking his t-shirt off. My best friend really is a big guy. It’s more than his six-foot-four figure. He trains two hours every morning at Stoneview Prep’s gym. He’s not part of the lacrosse team but he always exercises on his own. He’s a runner and an amazing weightlifter, a rare combination, but that means he’s zero fat and pure muscles.
“Alright, who wants to see the master at work,” he jokes arrogantly.
I like drunk Chris. I like when he lets his asshole side out, rather than the calm, boring guy who doesn’t get involved in the craziness.
He downs another glass, lays down on the floor, and waves at Ella to come close. I don’t miss her and my sister ogling Chris’ hard-earned muscles.
“You should not be allowed to take your top off,” Ozy lets out on a breath.
We all laugh at her, and she looks up in surprise.
“Did I say that out loud?” she giggles.
She fuckinggiggles. She is so drunk.
It feels amazing to be ourselves for one evening. This is better than any party, any drug-induced state. This, right here, just the four of us and Ella, is pure happiness.
Chris starts lifting Ella up and down, his hand can practically wrap all around her thigh. She is so focused on staying tense that she doesn’t realize the number of times she goes up and down.
He puts her down gently as Luke and Rose jump up and down on a corner sofa.
“That’s twelve! The sweet boy kicked our asses, Jakey!” Luke shouts.
I sip on another glass of amber liquid, watching as Chris stands up and pounds his chest with his right fist.
“You guys don’t even compete in my category. What do I win? Do I win the girl?”
He bends over for a split second, barely enough to push his shoulder against Ella’s hip, and picks her up caveman style.
