God bless you, Andrew Christian.
The pants were stiff with newness as Jared tugged them on, struggling with the complicated clasp for a few minutes until they were properly fastened. He rolled the sleeves of the shirt up, then shrugged it on and purposefully only did up a handful of buttons at the bottom. The neck was left open, displaying his fuzzy chest hair and strong throat.
Not bad at all.
Not wanting to go too over the top, Jared slicked on light cologne and worked his hair through with a salt spray, mussing it up until it was perfectly nonchalant.
A quick glance at the clock on his nightstand told him it was eight forty-five already, so Jared quickly pulled on his white Nike high-tops that he’d spent an hour earlier polishing up to their original, shining glory, and laced them tight.
If you’d told him a year ago he’d be going to a white party, Jared would have broken his ribs laughing.
Just like the first time he visited, the white mansion was ablaze with light and noise when Jared pulled his truck up front, blocking Adam in this time, because he could. He grabbed the bottle of Gray Goose—it seemed appropriate for a white party, somehow—and hopped out of the cab.
Biggie was blasting some old school Snoop from his throne in the living area—he was definitely all Biggie, not Chris tonight—and Jared wove his way through crowds of his classmates, all dressed appropriately in shades of white, bopping their heads to the music.
The man of the evening was wearing a full three-piece white tux, complete with white bow tie. The ice around his neck had probably cost more than the house, and he was swilling the requisite gin and juice from a short glass in his hand.
Clare was perched on the arm of the chair wearing a daring white gown cut to her navel, showing off perfectly tight abdominals and impossibly high, tight breasts. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders in elegant curls, and her red lipstick and black, shiny, manicured nails were clearly her own violation of the rules.
Biggie didn’t seem to mind. One of his hands was resting on her ass.
“’Sup,” Chris said in greeting, and Jared saluted him with the bottle of vodka.
“Rockin’ party.”
Chris grinned. “You’re not wrong. Homie’s in the kitchen.”
“Huh?”
“He means Adam,” Clare said, sipping her drink through a white straw. “Last I heard he was trying to set up body shots.”
Jared huffed a laugh and nodded to Clare before wandering back through the house to the kitchen. He didn’t expect to see Ryder sitting on a counter, sipping lemonade from a glass bottle.
“Ryder!”
She looked up and grinned widely at Jared. “Hi!”
She was wearing a short, white lace prom dress with layers of petticoats underneath. Her little feet swung back and forth against the cupboard underneath her.
“You look great,” Jared said, setting the vodka down and pulling his friend into a hug. “How are you feeling?”
“Okay,” she said, kissed Jared on the cheek, then pulled back. “Good, actually. I miss you guys.”
“How did you escape?”
He’d been exchanging texts with Ryder back and forth while she’d remained imprisoned in her father’s house, not allowed to go out or see any of her friends. Apparently Mr. Gorden was furious that the people who had given Ryder the drugs hadn’t been caught, and even more irate that Chris had a solid alibi for the time when she was in the hospital. The nasty, racial prejudice had come to a head a few days previously with a screaming public argument between Chris’s mom and Ryder’s dad outside Starbucks, where accusations were thrown and the police eventually called.
There was now a neat restraining order against Mr. Gorden, preventing him from going anywhere near Chris or his family, although that didn’t stop his daughter going to a party at the Wallace house.
“Adam came over and kidnapped me,” Ryder said with a grin.
“Your dad knows you’re here?”
“Yeah. He wasn’t happy, but Adam threatened to marry me to get me out of that house. Dad almost went purple. It was hysterical, but Adam made his point. He bought me the dress and everything.” Ryder smoothed it over her knees. “He can be nice sometimes.”
“I know,” Jared murmured, surprised that the shower of attention Adam had told Jared would be heading Ryder’s way had been kicked off by Adam himself. It was a sweet thing for him to do. “You’re not drinking?”
“Nope,” Ryder said emphatically. “I’m off that for now. It could mess with my meds, and….”
“I get it. Did Clare come over?”
“It wasn’t her fault, Jared,” Ryder said with a sigh. “It wasn’t very nice to gang up on her like that.”
Jared gave her an incredulous look.
“You don’t understand. It’s just the way things are around here.”
If Ryder had brushed it off that easily, Jared figured it wasn’t his place to hold a grudge on her behalf. He didn’t go for the hard drugs, hating the comedown after, but didn’t judge those who did. It was their lives. Their bodies. He gave Ryder a quick kiss on the back of her hand, then moved through the tight knots of people until he got to Adam.
“Hey,” Adam said distractedly. He still petted Jared’s butt, though, as he continued his conversation. “You’re up for body shots, right?”
“Who, me?” Jared said. “No. Absolutely not.”
Adam grinned wickedly. “Excellent. I’ll put your name down.”
“No?” Jared tried again. “Am I saying it wrong? No.”
“Body shots, baby,” Adam crowed. “I get to lick stuff off you. What’s wrong with that?”
A few of the girls standing nearby tittered appreciatively. Jared kissed Adam’s cheek and ducked away to make himself a drink. People were starting to think of them as a couple, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
Chris had taken the
