I thread my fingers through his and pull him farther into the house.
The party might as well be the set of a porno. In three seconds flat, I spot a sexy cat, a sexy nurse, a sexy cop, and a couple making out so vigorously that they bump a framed family photo off the wall. Three girls run giggling down the stairs in nothing but their underwear while boys hoot their approval.
Bishop’s smiling a little too brightly. I roll my eyes.
“Okay. She’s got short black hair and she usually wears a headband,” I say.
“Got it.”
We push through the crowded living room, scanning the faces for a sign of Brooke.
Someone jumps out in front of me and yells, “Boo!”
I gasp, more so because of the screaming-in-my-face part than the demented clown mask with leering smile and rotten teeth.
“Did I scare you?” Jarrod pushes the mask up onto his head and gives me a big, goofy grin that makes his glassy eyes sparkle.
“Yeah, I almost peed my pants,” I say flatly.
He doesn’t seem to notice my lack of enthusiasm. “Where the hell you been? We missed you.”
I wince as his toxic booze breath wafts over me.
“Around,” I choke out. “Hey, have you seen Brooke McDonald?”
His eyes move over to Bishop, then down over our outfits. “What are you guys supposed to be?”
“Hockey player and puck bunny,” Bishop chimes in proudly.
Jarrod keels over laughing, slapping his knee. “That’s good, man.” He straightens up and does a little unbalanced flourish with his arms. “Can you guess what I am?”
I take in the rest of his outfit, which consists of a pair of jean overalls over a bare chest. “Uh, a dead clown farmer?” I guess, indulging him.
He reels with shock. “Man, you’re good!”
I sigh. “So, Brooke McDonald? From the soccer team?”
“Does Bianca know you’re here?” he asks, ignoring my question. “ ’Cause she’s gonna, like, bust a nut if she catches you.” He laughs so hard at his own joke that his face turns red.
“ ’K, nice seeing you.” I start to pass around him.
“Hey, wait.” He get so close that I have to remind myself it’s rude to wave someone’s bad breath away. “Have you…talked to Paige lately?” he asks.
I’m too stunned to answer.
“Because I kind of miss her, you know?” he adds. “She just left so suddenly.” His cheeks flush.
Paige? And…Jarrod? I don’t think I’d be more shocked if he’d announced his bid to run for the presidency, with Devon acting as vice.
“Um, yeah,” I say, once I’ve recovered. “She’s good.”
He smiles, swaying on the spot. “Well, tell her I said…just tell her I said hi.”
I think I’d keep staring at him all night if it weren’t for Bishop pulling me away. We work our way down the hall, flattening ourselves against the walls as two guys dressed as conjoined twins pass by (sharing a pair of massive boobs, obviously).
Bishop gives a low whistle, and I elbow him in the gut.
In the kitchen, there’s a rowdy game of flip cup happening across the island, and two guys from the football team are hoisting a guy dressed as a Grim Reaper up to do a keg stand. The girls who ran through the living room have joined up with a group of equally pantless guys, and they all squeeze out through the patio doors toward the pool. I guess they “forgot” their suits and were “forced” to strip down to their underwear.
The patio doors slide open again, and a group fresh from the pool loudly enters the kitchen. Right away I spot Devon’s floppy blond waves. He’s calling to a friend to get him a beer from the cooler while he towels off his wet hair, his washboard abs on full display. It’s not hard to guess from his tight red board shorts and yellow towel that he’s dressed up as a Ken doll. Mostly because he wears the same costume every year.
Where Devon goes, Bianca is not far behind. And if she catches me, she might kick me out before I get a chance to talk to Brooke.
I start to shrink behind Bishop, but Devon looks up just in time to spot me. His face cracks into a huge smile. He drapes his towel around his neck and crosses over to me.
“Ind! I never thought I’d see you here.” He smiles down at me, his wet curls plastered against his forehead.
I suddenly feel Bishop’s eyes on me.
“Last place I thought I’d be,” I answer.
Devon just keeps smiling that huge, brilliant smile of his.
“Where’s Bianca?” I can’t help blurting out.
He shrugs. “I don’t know, probably sucking face with that college dude or something.”
So all’s not well in paradise, then. It shouldn’t make me this happy.
His friend shoves a beer into his chest, which he absently accepts. Devon can’t take his eyes off me.
“So what have you been up to?” he asks, with more interest than is strictly necessary.
I shrug. “Oh, you know—”
“Just slaying the same old dragons,” Bishop interrupts.
I cut him a look that could kill—I was under the strict impression we weren’t going to mention the dragon—but he just winks at me.
When I look back at Devon, he’s got his eyes narrowed on Bishop, his gaze moving from Bishop’s tattooed neck to his long hair to his leather jacket. Devon pushes his shoulders back and puffs up his chest in that characteristic way that announces a challenge. I sigh.
“Devon, meet my boyfriend, Bishop,” I say.
“Boyfriend?” Devon says.
Bishop gives him a cocky smile and waggles his eyebrows.
Oh man.
“Sorry, Devon, but we’re actually looking for someone: Brooke McDonald. Have you seen her?”
Devon continues to eye Bishop, but then he finally sweeps his gaze over to me. “Yeah, she’s outside. Why’re you looking for Brooke?”
I wave off his question. “Oh, just, you know, just some homework I missed.” I give a stiff laugh.
Devon’s brow creases, and he gives a little shake of his head. “She’s out back, by the pool. Hey, are you coming to the game next weekend? We’re playing L.A. High.”
“Oh, um, maybe.” I grab Bishop’s hand. “Nice chatting. Talk to you later!”