Just Roll With It: a Just Us novel (19 page)

Every one of Roman’s friends I have met so far have all been pretty attractive, and I'm starting to wonder what exactly they put in the paintball team's water. We picked Malik and Wes up because they were both on the way, and so far, they seem nice. Not exactly the crazy kind of friends Roman was so furiously warning me about.

Although he seems to have exaggerated on that front, I can still tell you one thing—they all seem very comfortable with each other. The entire ride is comprised of explicit conversation chock full of inside jokes I don't get, sex innuendos—toward one another—and stories of past paintball tournaments and the crazy shit always going down. It all sounds strangely impelling. I'm nervous to see how tonight stacks up.

I have zero words to describe the view before me as we walk through the threshold and into the chaos. Guys everywhere. Most without shirts on. Some sitting around, most jumping off the backs of couches, playing beer pong, screaming at each other, shooting each other with paintball guns
in the house
, spilling drinks on each other, and overall running around like crazy people to the loud sound of death metal and punk. Maybe he wasn't exaggerating.

Cigarettes and stale beer impale my senses as I walk into a thick wall of fog the bodies have formed. I see through the haze a few girls are here too. Most in their best revealing New Years’ Eve outfits mindlessly perched on some guys’ lap.

Roman must have seen some expression on my face I wasn't aware I was making, because he turns to me and says, "Those girls are mostly groupies, loyal to any Atomic-Anarchy party thrown, and will sleep with just about any of us to get an invite. There are only a few who have been around for a while, but those are the ones who have really
been around,
if you know what I mean. Most girls don't last long."

What have I gotten myself into?

"Atomic-Anarchy?" I ask, having never heard the term before.

"Atomic-Anarchy, our team name," he explains.

The majority of the room starts to notice we have arrived and loud "heys" and "yos" erupt from every corner. They must already be pretty drunk because they're overly ecstatic. Hands are being thrown up in excitement and hugs are going around. Not the man kind of hug, either, with one arm around the shoulder and a fist bump or some shit. No, these dudes are full on squeezing one another and picking each other up off of the ground. I'm pretty sure I saw one guy grab another guy and give him a big sloppy kiss on the cheek.

I also noticed the beer pong game going on must be
strip
beer pong because there goes someone’s pants. I usually walk into a room and wonder if people will like me, but right now as I walk into the party, I don't think that's my number one concern.

Roman walks me to a group of guys over by the keg.

"Ah, is she the famous new girlfriend we've been hearing about?" a guy with short blond hair and baby blue eyes asks.

"Bug, this is my buddy Reece, we're in his house. He's the poor sucker throwing this party."

"Nice to meet you, thanks for having me," I say.

"How sweet, look how polite she is." He smiles a genuine smile. I wonder if not all of the girls brought here are very respectful.

"Yep, he finally got himself a good one," Lyle makes a point to tell the group and slap Roman on the back.

"Cheers to that!" a guy with long brown hair and a lip ring says and then hands me a shot.

I'm not a big drinker, especially after the Ren-Fest fiasco. I have a whiskey and Coke every once in a while when I paint, but I am definitely not one to throw back a shot, so when I attempt my first one I'm not surprised when it sits too long on my tongue before reaching the back of my throat. Water floods my mouth and my face burns fire while I work to keep the liquid from coming back up.

"Shit, shots suck," I manage to cough out.

My body shudders involuntarily as I hand the small plastic cup back to the pierced lip guy.

"And she's a lightweight! She keeps getting better," Reece announces.

I give Reece a look conveying how I feel about being called a lightweight. He doesn't know me enough to judge.

"It's okay, darlin’, lightweight’s a good thing. You see, most of the chicks who show up here aren't like you."

"Like me?" I try but fail to not feel offended.

"Yeah. You know, nice and innocent."

Again with the innocent. I look around the room at the group of people, and to my dismay, he's right. I'm not like these people. I'm not normal. I've gotten better since dating Roman, but I'm still not quite there. I will always feel out of place when all I want to do is fit in. I'm so tired of being nervous all of the time. I want to know what it's like to be like one of the girls here. I want to genuinely have fun without worrying for once in my life.

I grab another half-filled shot cup off of the counter and down it. This time I make sure it bypasses my tongue and goes straight down my throat. In about fifteen seconds, I go from having severe anxiety about tonight to not giving a fuck.

"Shit yeah! We've made it through another clusterfuck of a year!" I hear Reece yell at the room full of people as he gets up and stands on a chair. "This year may we all get happy, get laid, get paid, and get ready to get your drink on!"

He cheers the room, and I hold up my empty cup to toast.

"You might want to go a little easier now for the rest of the night," Roman whispers to me while taking my cup away to set back on the counter. "You're not used to drinking liquor straight. I don't want you to get too torn up too soon."

I know what he's trying to do, and his effort is going to backfire because his comment only makes me want to try to fit in even more.

So what's a girl to do when she's trying to fit in? Beer pong. Ten minutes later and my pong teammate is Malik. We're playing against Reece and some other guy who I think said his name is Levi. The first ball I throw I miss and I'm instantly reminded of how I'm in a game of
strip
pong.

"Show us your boobs!" a number of guys around us, including Levi, shouts when I miss my third throw. I take off the sparkled tank I am wearing first, but luckily the top was made of more material then most girls here are wearing and I was able to wear a bra.

"Boo," I hear a couple more people yell when they notice my twins were not ready to be displayed. Most of the girls here are not wearing bras so they expected I wasn't, either. If I miss my next shot, my only choice is between bra or skinny jeans. I think I'll choose bra because I have nice boobs, and I'm not sure I want to walk around in just my panties.

Also, I had a pretty difficult time getting these skinnys on earlier due to how tight they are. I almost fell over when I reached the part where I had to pull them over my butt so I can only imagine what kind of catastrophe could occur if I tried to take them off drunk. Well, if I'm going to show my boobs to an entire house full of people I barely know, I'm going to need another shot.

"Shot!" I yell and raise my hand, knowing damn well somebody somewhere will bring one to me.

As predicted, I watch three guys walk over, each with a shot in hand. They must really want to see my boobs. Roman is socializing with his friends and didn't seem to mind when I was asked if I wanted to play beer pong, however, he has been keeping an eye on me. I see him glance over here every time my turn comes to take a shot.

The first couple of times I missed the shot it was my socks and shoes I had to remove. He almost looked amused and sort of happy, if I'm not mistaken. I can tell he likes how I'm getting along with his friends. He was so worried about me he wouldn't even invite me places. I bet he feels pretty silly about the whole thing now since I'm getting on fine.

I take a shot from one of the guys and hold it out in Roman’s direction in salute. He cheers me back with the beer cup in his hand, yet I think I catch a glimpse of worry in his expression. I wonder what about. I knock back the burning liquid faster every time. Each shot is getting easier and easier to take.

"All right, Dollface. Let's see if you're straight enough to make a shot," Reece says like he's almost worried for me.

I catch him glance at Rome and then he looks back to watch me take my turn.

I miss my shot again and am about to unsnap my bra when I feel a hard hand grab on to my wrist and pull me away from my game.

"What are you doing? It was my turn," I whine to Roman.

"You were about to take your fucking bra off in front of everyone!" he points out the obvious.

"Yeah, the game is called strip pong for a reason," I remind him. "
Strip
pong," I pronounce the word again for emphasis.

"Bee, this is not like you. I get the whole, it's New Years’ Eve let’s let loose thing, but you're taking it too far, don't you think? I really didn't expect
this
to happen."

He waves his hand around me. What the hell does he mean by that?

"Well, everything happens for a reason," I tell him, and then dramatically turn on the heel of my foot to head back to my game. He catches a hold of my hand again and pulls me back so now we are only an inch apart face to face.

"No, things like this happen because you’re being foolish and making bad decisions."

"Hey, let her come back and play!" Levi complains.

"Shut up, dude, you’re a bad influence!" Roman thunders.

"Yeah, I'm a bad influence all right, but fuck if I'm not fun!" Levi gets in the last word, but Reece eyes him enough for him to let it go and continue to play without me.

"Okay, well as
un
lightening as our conversation has been, I came here to have fun. The way you have fun
every
weekend without me. So, if you'll excuse me, I need to go get another drink."

I turn to walk away with a certain swagger in my hips, but the damn guy won't let me leave. He doesn't let go of my hand, and the force of his hard body even standing still tugs my hand back and halts my movement, keeping me in place once again.

"Ah, I get what you're doing? You get drunk and you let all of the repressed feelings you have about shit loose? I thought you got over that?"

"Maybe I haven't."

"Clearly."

"I want to be normal enough for you to want to take me places. For you to not feel like your girlfriend won't be accepted, or for you to have to think first about will or won't I be able to handle it."

"Will you stop already with the normal shit. What does normal even mean anyway?
Normal?
Nobody here is
normal.
There is no such thing. Normal in our house is a button on the dishwasher. Do you ever ask yourself why you think you're not normal? Like, maybe because you're quirkier and funnier and smarter than all of these people. And because you’re honest. You're already pretty fucking incredible."

His words have me dumbstruck. I am wrecked, shattered. I am in love. I am drunk and I am going to throw up.

I go from standing to doubled over at the speed of one-hundred W-T-Fs per hour.

"Fuck. Hold on, Bug. Stay with me for a minute."

I barely hear Roman's rough voice through my drunken daze before I feel the weightlessness of being lifted into the air.

The next thing I know, I'm prodding my eyes open in a dark place with a trash can in my face. I struggle to take in my surroundings, but I think I am lying on something resembling a cot. A futon, maybe?

I feel a warm breath at the back of my neck. Someone is behind me rubbing my head and holding my hair back. I turn my head to try and see but my stomach flips and I am right back to having my head in the bin.

When there is nothing more left to possibly come out of me, my stomach muscles start to relax. I turn around to grab for Roman, but instead, I see a guy I have never met before, lying behind me on his side, propped up on an elbow with one hand on my shoulder and the other holding my hair. I instantly tighten back up. He tries to calm me down with a soothing voice and a gentle rub on my shoulder.

"Whoa there, Rigbee. You're okay. I'm a friend of Roman’s. My name's Lawrence. I met you earlier."

Oh yeah, he must be Law-man, the one who had the birthday party I wasn't invited to. His lip ring shines as the steel reflects off the dim lamp and I remember he was also the same guy who handed me my first shot.

"You've been down here sick for a while, you know. Roman sat with you most of the night, and I thought he could use a break so we've been tagging off every half hour for the last few hours."

He reaches over next to him to grab a water bottle and hands it to me. I take an appreciative gulp. The cold liquid seems to help me get my bearings straight as I squint my eyes and try to take in the information he's giving me.

"What? Where's Lyle?"

Out of everyone, Lyle's the only one I know or think would actually help me while I puke up my guts.

"Lyle?" he snorts out a laugh. "Lyle, I'm afraid, is doing about as good as you are. A couple of hours ago we found him purging and pissing in Wes' shoes."

"Gross."
Poor guy.

"Yeah, we had to put him to bed too," he informs me.

He continues to rub my shoulders and hair. I'm too sick, and it feels too good for me to argue so I give in and let him continue until I drift back into darkness.

I wake this time to the feeling of wetness on my stomach. I must've spilled the water bottle Lawrence gave me. I slowly prod open an eye at a time and blink them into focus. What the hell! I sit up and scurry backward on the futon when one of the guys I recognize from last night comes into full focus. He sits back on his knees and wipes his mouth of the leftover dribble he had from spitting on me just now, and then he smiles.

"I thought that might do it. I was told to come down here and wake you up. I couldn't think of how to do it gently yet effectively. Done. Mission accomplished." He holds out his hand. "Name's Dirks."

I reach out and take his hand. "Rigbee," I hesitate but then reply somewhat politely as I wipe his spit off my stomach with my other hand and then pull my shirt down far enough to cover my bare midriff in case he gets anymore crazy ideas.