Cans of beer were strategically placed throughout the house for drunk people to stumble into as the night progressed. “We may be embracing clichés, but we’re allowed to make them ours,” Julia said with that mischievous smile. Some were on the bookshelves, one on top of each blade of the fan in the living room, in drawers and the microwave and in between the couch cushions. Julia had set out bowls of chips surrounded by assorted dips. Some of the dips weren’t actual dips, another experiment Julia had been dying to try for years. She had set out hot sauces and butter and soy sauce and a little melted puddle of vanilla ice cream, just to see how many people would dip their chips into anything that was nearby.
By the time people started showing up, Dave and Julia had crossed off another Never and toasted with a minibottle of champagne Julia had nabbed from the wedding she’d gone to the weekend before. They argued for about twenty minutes over what kind of music to play, since Julia insisted that she had good party music, and Dave insisted that people would not enjoy listening to Fiona Apple, no matter how brilliant her lyrics were. Julia texted some photos of the setup to her mom and was checking her phone constantly for a response when the doorbell rang.
“Welcome!” Julia said to the first group that arrived, three somewhat nerdy juniors with copycat shaggy hair. “Beer!”
“Uh, thanks,” the taller of them said, though they didn’t enter until Dave waved them in. As soon as Julia shut the door, Dave could hear voices on the other side. Dave went back to the door as Julia led the shaggy juniors to the kitchen, rambling in a fake Victorian English accent about the glory of the night.
Within an hour, the house was packed. Because it kept him from looking at the entrance awaiting Gretchen’s arrival, Dave tried to clean up after people, collecting the empty beer cans and the red plastic cups that Julia had purchased entirely too many of. Then Julia scolded him, telling him that making a mess of her parents’ place was part of the idea, and that he was robbing her of a typical high school experience.
“Mingle with your people,” she said, snatching the garbage bag away from his hand and hanging it off the corner of a picture frame, which instantly tipped and came crashing to the ground. “These people came for you.”
“They came for the beer.”
“You can’t prove that. Your face on the flyer was just as big as the word beer was.”
“True. Have I told you how uncomfortable that made me?”
“Oh, being loved by the masses is so hard,” Julia said, frowning exaggeratedly. “I’m gonna go make sure Debbie is still mostly white and green and pink and alive.” She headed for the stairs, sidestepping the pillow fort that they’d built at the foot to keep people from venturing upstairs. Almost as soon as she’d turned down the hallway, Dave felt a tap on his shoulder.
“Gretchen! Hi.” He leaned in to give her a hug, and somehow his lips ended up on her cheek, close to her mouth, way more sensual than he’d meant to. It took them both a little by surprise, and nothing was said for a while. Someone took hold of the music and switched it over to rap, the bass booming through the house.
“Hi,” she said, her hand going to the spot he’d awkwardly kissed. She’d done her hair in a braid that hung over her shoulder, exposing her neck on the opposite side. A trace of collarbone poked out from her blouse. It was so different picturing someone’s face all day and then being up close to it. It was like the difference between seeing a picture of a beach and stepping onto the sand. “This is insane; there are so many people here.”
“Oh, Julia and I hired a bunch of desperate actors from L.A. None of these people are actually teenagers.”