“Ready?” At my nod, Graham knocks, thunk-thunk, just as he did a few nights ago. Tadd opens the door, and Graham stands back, smiling down at me. “Ladies first.”
Chapter 12
REID
I got to Brooke’s room first. When she opened the door, it was déjà vu for about two seconds. And then not. Four years ago we would have been all over each other before I got five feet inside her room. Tonight, she just glared and backed up enough for me to enter. “Reid,” she said.
“Brooke.” I set several small bottles down on a table, keeping a couple and opening one, which I downed immediately. Tossing the bottle into her trash, I opened the second. “So how long has it been?” I said, knowing this was a reckless path to navigate.
Her jaw tightened and she plopped onto the loveseat, trying to look indifferent and fearless at the same time, raising her chin and looking me in the eye. “I have no idea.”
A knock sounded then and I turned, relieved, to admit MiShaun, Quinton and Jenna. A moment later, Tadd arrived.
Brooke holds court from the loveseat while MiShaun flips through the most recent Cosmo from the only chair. The rest of us lounge across the floor, chatting, while I wonder how disturbed I should be that Emma and Graham are the only two who haven’t shown yet. Five minutes pass before they show up, together.
“The prima donnas arrive,” MiShaun teases.
“Seriously, what took you guys so long?” Brooke’s eyes dart back and forth between the two of them.
Emma picks up on her territorial vibe and bristles visibly, her shoulders stiffening. “I had a phone call to make.” She holds out the bottle in her hand. “Um, where—?”
“Put it with the other stuff.” Brooke indicates a side table boasting a dozen miniature bottles. Emma hands the tequila to Quinton while Tadd lines up gift shop shot glasses with college emblems stamped on the sides. Smiling up at Graham, Brooke pats the cushion next to her, while Emma sits on the floor in the space between Jenna and me, exactly where I want her.
“What’s first, children?” Brooke asks.
Tadd stands, places one hand over his heart and enunciates as though delivering a line from Hamlet. “I require a dose of liquid courage for the challenge before me.”
“I second that.” Quinton pries the wrapper from the neck of the bottle Emma brought, which I suspect came via Graham, twists off the lid and begins pouring tequila shots.
Grabbing a bottle of rum from the stash and pouring it directly into her Diet Coke bottle, Brooke suggests we toast the success of the film, “before we’re all too hammered to remember what we’re doing.” Everyone obediently clinks glasses and bottles, murmuring to the film.
“Where’s Meredith?” Jenna asks.
“The boyfriend was waiting for her in the lobby when we got back from dinner.” Brooke shrugs. “Looks like splitsville to me.”
“Okay, wait.” Tadd is incredulous. “The guy showed up on set to break up with her? What a douche.”
“I don’t know who’s breaking up with who, just that it looked imminent. So, Mr. Wyler, what are you performing for our listening pleasure?” she asks as Graham hands him the guitar.
“Either Stairway to Heaven or some John Mayer,” Tadd proposes, standing and picking out a few chords, testing the instrument.
“If that’s all you’ve got, then definitely John Mayer. What are we, fifty?” Brooke says.
“Zeppelin is classic!” he insists, which earns him a steady boo from the girls.
“The queen has spoken,” I say, handing him a second shot of tequila, catching Brooke’s eye and grinning as she seethes. She’s determined to be pissed at anything I say or do; might as well enjoy it.
Tadd downs the shot, plunks the glass on a table and starts strumming, singing lines of Your Body is a Wonderland to each of the girls, strolling around the room and ending the performance perched on MiShaun’s lap. As everyone applauds, he bows and passes the guitar to Graham.
“Graham, no Zeppelin, as I believe we’ve already established,” Brooke says.
“I thought I’d do something I’ve been working on.”
“Something you wrote yourself?”
“Still a work in progress, but, yeah.”
“Cool.” She touches his arm lightly, and I bump Emma lightly and raise both eyebrows in the universal gesture of do you see that?
Graham slides to the edge of the loveseat and starts playing, the chords complicated, his fingers moving over the neck of the guitar like he’s caressing it. The vocals are definitely good. Unlike Tadd, he doesn’t look at anyone while performing, except once, towards the end of the last chorus, when his eyes meet Emma’s for a split second. I move from guarded dislike to I hate this guy.
When he finishes, everyone erupts into applause. He and Tadd trade sets while the rest of us sip whatever poison we’ve decided to utilize, and Quinton suggests a drinking game.
Brooke explains the rules to Jenna, who’s never played. “This game has two objects: we learn stupid stuff about each other, and everyone gets wasted.” She scoots off the loveseat, taking Graham’s hand and pulling him down. “Tadd will start by saying, ‘Never have I ever,’ followed by something he’s never done. Anyone who has done whatever it is has to take a drink. Girls, we can handicap ourselves by taking half-shots.”
The first Never Have I Ever that pops into my head involves Emma, and isn’t one I can say aloud. Besides, I intend for it to be invalid by the end of the week, if not the end of the night.