Chapter 1 #15
The girl is still half-collapsed next to a bush, complaining that it was unfair since she already had many drinks. Gio still gives her middle fingers. "STAY DOWN, YOU COWARD!"
She lifts her middle finger back with a groan, and Gio just shouts louder: "FUCK YOU!"
I grab his arm, yank him close, chest to chest. "That was the sexiest thing I've ever seen!" I scream. He smirks. I kiss his jaw. "But," I say, pulling back, "we need to find Lorenzo and Noah. I don't know where the fuck they went!"
Gio groans. "Of course we do. They probably joined a gang again."
…
We push open a side door into what looks like a storage room turned temple of chaos. Low lighting. Candles. Rugs everywhere. Bodies sitting cross-legged. Music completely gone. Replaced by a soft beat and whisper chanting. Holy fuck, what is this place. There are people shirtless.
One guy with glitter in his beard. And dead center, Noah and Lorenzo. Both shirtless. Both sitting on cushions. Lorenzo holding a lemon slice. Noah holding…what looks like a ladle? They turn to us like they expected us. Noah smiles way too wide.
"Sit. You're late."
I blink. "Late for what?"
Lorenzo nods solemnly. "The body shot ritual of fire."
Gio bursts out laughing. "What the fuck are you two on?"
"Tradition," Lorenzo says, dead serious. "Respect it."
We look around. Everyone in the room is so fucking high. Some girl is painting someone else's shoulder with hot sauce. A guy across from us has a tequila shot resting on his abs. I turn to Gio. "We should go."
"We should definitely go. Smells like weed in here."
We stay. We sit. Cross-legged. Confused. Whispering.
"Is that guy asleep or just transcending?" I whisper.
"Both." We giggle.
"Shhh!" someone hisses. "This is sacred."
"You're wearing a SpongeBob tank top," Gio mutters.
Noah leans forward, eyes glassy. "Don't mock the process. In ten minutes we ascend."
"Ascend where?" Gio asks.
"Doesn't matter," Lorenzo answers, eyes locked on the candle flame. "I'm ready."
"He's gone," Gio whispers to me, wheezing.
"We've lost him." We both collapse in silent laughter. And then, someone claps their hands. "Everyone switch partners!"
"For what?!" I hiss.
"TRUST."
Gio and I just stare at each other, holding back tears of joy and terror. "We need to leave."
"We can't."
"Why?"
"Because…Lorenzo's crying and hugging a stranger named Suzana."
"Fuck." And so we stay.
In the sacred tequila temple. Pretending to believe in a ritual we don't understand, surrounded by people too drunk to care, whispering nonsense to each other while Noah blesses a lime and Lorenzo screams: "LET THE AGAVE CLEANSE US!"
Lorenzo stands up. "I AM EL DIABLO DEL SUR. I SPEAK FOR THE TEQUILA."
He has a shot glass balanced on his head. Someone pours directly into it from above. It overflows instantly. He doesn't flinch. Then a guy in a cowboy hat screams, grabs the bottle of mezcal, and chases another dude around the room.
"CLEANSE YOUR SOUL, YOU COWARD!"
A girl tackles someone into the cushions. We run. Literally run out of that tequila cult.
Gio has his arm around Lorenzo's neck, dragging him like a hostage while Noah is behind us, waving at the ritual people.
"Thank you! I love you! May the agave bless you forever!" The door slams shut behind us. And then Noah turns to me, out of breath.
"Rava, record this!"
He hands me a half-dead lime like it is sacred. "This is going to be Episode 1."
I lift my phone, already wheezing from laughter. "Of what?" He looks at the camera like it's HBO.
"Of my new series: 'Things My Therapist Said Not To Do'." The video is already recording. I am crying from laughter. I can't feel my legs. Everything is wet and sticky and smells like tequila.
Noah stands in front of me. Hair soaked. Shirt ripped down the side. Holding a firework in one hand and a traffic cone in the other. "This one's called Operation Flaming Unicorn."
I nearly drop my phone. "Noah, what the actual fuck—"
"TRUST THE VISION, YOU DICK."
Gio appears out of nowhere, holding a half-eaten sandwich and a Red Bull. Looks Noah up and down. "Nope. No. Absolutely not. Rava, stop recording."
"Too late," I wheeze.
Lorenzo is also five feet away, leaned against a lemon tree, violently throwing up, then raising a thumbs-up with his free hand.
Fucking legend.
Noah has wedged the traffic cone onto his head like a helmet. "I'M A CREATURE OF LIGHT AND FIRE!"
"You're gonna light your hair on fire," Gio yells, already tossing the sandwich and running after him. Suddenly, BOOM. A nearby firework goes off from someone else's yard.
Noah SCREAMS. Drops the firework. It slides across the lawn, spinning. Straight toward a group of people trying to climb a tree for no reason.
"INCOMING!"
Sparks fly. Screams. A guy falls out of the tree and lands in a kiddie pool with a saxophone. Gio dives on Noah, dragging him to the ground like they are in war. "I FUCKING TOLD YOU."
Meanwhile, a random girl runs past me yelling.
"DOES ANYONE HAVE ICE FOR MY PIGEON?!"
I don't ask. Somehow, a guy is now DJing using a car battery and a Bluetooth speaker.
Someone else rides a bicycle through the living room. And through it all, I just keep filming. I turn the camera on myself.
My hair plastered to my face. "If we survive this night," I say, dead serious, "we're never speaking of it again."
Flash. The firework explodes in the sky behind me. Noah sits up, blinking. "Did I win?"
"You fucking almost killed a saxophone player, bro," Gio yells at him while laughing. Lorenzo throws up again.
Make space for more drinks, king.
I'm still filming Noah when I hear sirens. Flashing blue and red.
I freeze. My brain, fully drowned in tequila and questionable decisions, takes half a second too long to process.
"Oh shit—GUYS!" I turn off the phone, grab Noah by the arm, who screams, and yank Gio away from a group of people chanting his name like he's a Roman emperor.
Lorenzo is holding a cup full of cereal. With no milk. We run. More like chaotic stumbling. I slam into the back of a delivery truck and trip, crashing against Gio, who catches me by the shirt. "Get DOWN!" I hiss, shoving them all behind the vehicle like we are in a war movie.
We crouch. My heart beats like it's trying to escape my chest.
Flashlight and footsteps.
"YOU FOUR. DON'T MOVE."
We all freeze like raccoons caught in a spotlight. The officer steps closer, holding a notepad and an aura of "I hate my job." Gio stands up instantly, arms crossed. "You got a problem?" I elbow him in the gut. "Not now."
"We didn't do shit," Gio adds, rubbing his side.
"We're just... hanging out. Behind a truck. In total silence. That's... that's allowed."
"You're trespassing and breaking noise ordinance."
"Well, technically," I start, standing up slowly and wobbling a bit, "the sound radius at which the bass was operating didn't qualify as—"
I forget the word. Literally just…forget how to talk.
"As…acoustic…terrorism?" Noah offers, smiling. The cop turns to him.
Noah tilts his head. "You look really good in that uniform, by the way, officer. Like, distractingly good."
I almost die.
"Are you flirting with the police?" I whisper.
"Do you want me to stop?" he whispers back.
Lorenzo groans and clutches his head. "I swear to God, if I get arrested while this human disaster is trying to get laid, I'm throwing myself into traffic."
Gio is leaning back against the truck, legs stretched out, arms crossed, grin smeared across his face. "We didn't throw this party. We're just better looking than the people who actually did, so we got blamed, right?"
"Sir, please," I try again.
"We're leaving. We're literally leaving. You can watch us leave. Watch me walk. It'll be great."
The officer just stares. "You're drunk."
"Well, technically, yes. But spiritually, I'm very focused right now."
There is a long pause. A really long one.
Then he sighs. "Get out. All of you. Quietly. Before I change my mind."
"See?" Noah whispers. "He totally likes me."
Lorenzo makes a sound that is either a laugh or a dry heave. Gio grabs my wrist as we stumble away and mutters in my ear. "You just talked down a cop while Noah flirted, I almost fought him, and Lorenzo was actively dying. I'm gonna fuck you so hard for that, Ravioli."
I look at him wide-eyed. Still drunk.
What the fuck is happening tonight.
…
Gio hunches over the door, swearing under his breath and trying to fit the key into the lock like it's a boss fight. He takes deep breaths. "Let me do it. I need to feel in control again."
Control. Sure. Noah is lying flat on the welcome mat, eyes closed, face against the concrete.
Lorenzo is asleep on my shoulder, deadweight, full body leaning into mine, breathing like a dying animal.
I gently stroke the back of his head. "Please don't puke on me. Please. I've done nothing to deserve this."
Gio is still at war with the keyhole. "I got it. I GOT it. It's upside down. Wait. Why is this hole…backwards?" Lorenzo sighs, eyes still closed. "Gio, if you don't open that fucking door in the next ten seconds I will strangle you with Noah's shoelaces."
Noah lifts a hand weakly from the floor. "You can use them. I no longer require shoes. Or dignity."
"I SAID I GOT IT!"
Click. The door creaks open. He turns around like he has just disarmed a bomb. We all shuffle inside. Noah army-crawls across the floor.
Lorenzo lets out a sigh and collapses face-first on the nearest couch. I look around the entryway, blinking hard to stay upright. "Okay. Nobody die until I drink water and burn these clothes."
Gio turns around, points the key at me like it's a knife. "Told you I had it."
I nod slowly. "I'm proud of you, baby."
Pause. He winks. And slams the door shut behind us.
…
We came back home from the party like twenty minutes ago, but Lorenzo and Noah are already sleeping.