Rachael bites her lip to stop from laughing as she sits down and attempts to slide off the roof of the vehicle, but she promptly falls off the side and hits the ground with a thud. The bottle of Cazadores smashes into a million pieces. I do the honor of laughing on her behalf as she groans through a series of giggles.
“Damn, Rachael,” Dean mutters. “Watch the glass.” He looks stone-cold sober now in comparison with us. He steps into the garage and leans down to pull Rachael up, grimacing in disgust at the state she’s in, and once he’s steadied her, he searches for her top on the floor. “We’re ready to go,” he says, but I can tell he’s annoyed at us. While I’m still laughing in the corner, he pulls Rachael’s top over her head and fixes her with a stern glare. “How much did you drink?”
Rachael doesn’t answer his question, only glances over her shoulder and motions for me to come over. I awkwardly place the bottle of J?germeister down on the floor and shuffle around the car, my eyes never meeting Dean’s. He heaves a sigh and directs us back into the pantry and through into the living room, where Jake is holding open the front door.
“What the hell have you two been doing?” Jake asks. Rachael and I exchange a glance and laugh once more, because for some reason we just can’t seem to stop.
Dean turns off the music and calls upstairs to his parents that we’re leaving while I follow Rachael to the minivan outside. I vaguely hear Meghan tell me that Dean’s older cousin doesn’t mind chauffeuring us around despite the fact that there aren’t even enough seats for us all. Nonetheless, we pile in (quite literally—Rachael ends up having to sit on my lap), and Dean and Jake follow behind us, and soon there are nine of us crammed into the vehicle. I’m too buzzed to even care that Tyler and Tiffani are in the very backseat, her body swung over his and her hands wrapped around his neck. She’s laughing over the thumping music that’s playing, but Tyler’s not paying attention to her. His face is angled to the side as he stares out the window, and for some reason, when I steal a glance over my shoulder, he looks the soberest of us all. Immediately, he senses my stare and his eyes lock with mine.
I feel on top of the world, so all I can do is pull a giddy smile at him. My head isn’t quite balancing on my shoulders, and he notices this, because he narrows his eyes into either a disapproving or a concerned look. I can’t tell which, and I don’t get much time to figure it out, because he returns to staring out the window.
And so the rest of us spend the journey cracking jokes while we laugh and laugh and laugh, and it makes me feel better knowing everyone is just as tipsy as Rachael and I are. Actually, we’re not even tipsy. We’re drunk, and it feels good.
Chapter 27
The beach party is apparently a huge deal. Half of the beach, the one on the right of the pier, is sectioned off for the event, with roads closed and security guards patrolling the area. When we all tumble out of the minivan in the pier parking lot, I’m consumed by the noise of music and voices, and the atmosphere feels electric. I squint at the beach in front of us, and I notice a stage set up right bang in the middle of the sand, with huge black speakers attached, and on it, there’s a DJ entertaining the crowd.
“If any of you morons get us kicked out, I’ll personally kick your ass,” Jake threatens. He glances around us all, fixing us with a warning glare. “Unless you’re a girl. If you’re a girl, you’ll get the silent treatment.”
And with that, we all head for the sand, our heads hanging down slightly as we pass some security guards. It makes me wonder if I look as drunk as I feel. I really hope not. I’ll be kicked out within five minutes if I do, but thankfully we stagger onto the sand and blend in with the crowd of people around us. I expect the nine of us to stick together as a group, but we don’t. The guys nod us good-bye for now and head off in one direction, and I’m surprised Tyler heads off without Tiffani.
“We should totally skinny-dip!” Rachael suggests, her voice loud over the music. She catches the attention of some men around us, and they give her a quick nod of encouragement.
“We should totally not skinny-dip,” Tiffani remarks. She shoots the guys a death glare and pushes us farther into the crowd, and I’m so drunk that I almost twist my ankle just trying to walk.
Sand finds its way into my Converse and it is the most uncomfortable feeling in the entire world, so I simply kick off my shoes and bend down to pick them up, dangling them from my hands by the laces. I nod my head in sync with the beats of the music and am shoved from side to side by the people surrounding us. They’re all clearly adults and of age, but I don’t care.
“Jared and his friends are here!” Meghan screams at us over the noise, spinning around with a panicked expression. She touches her hair. “How do I look?”
“Like you’re looking for trouble!” Rachael yells, which is true.