To clarify - this is plotless. I jump around in time period a lot. Last chapter they were in high school, this one is college again. You're not missing anything!
"Guys, check me out – I'm Sanjaya!" Kartik crashes into the room, followed closely by his best friend Jonathan. He makes a spectacle of himself, standing on the coffee table and pointing to his hair, which is sticking straight up in a mock ponyhawk, certainly a la Sanjaya Malakar.
"Boo! You suck!" Ann screeches gleefully, throwing an empty Solo cup at him. "I'm way more talented than you!" Kartik shakes his butt in her direction. I raise my eyes at Felicity across the room. She looks up from the game of beer pong she's been watching in the hopes of hooking up with the winner, and shrugs, giving me an unapologetic look as if to say "don't look at me; you chose him."
I'm sitting on the floor in Kartik's expansive basement, the perfect setting to celebrate what he refers to as the celebration of the 19th anniversary of my birth, but has more or less turned into an excuse for all our old friends to hang out and get drunk. I'm technically supposed to be playing a particularly nasty game of Asshole, but I'm rather huffy that my boyfriend has abandoned me to act like an idiot.
"People may be surprised to know… that I can actually hula!" Kartik says in a high-pitched voice, wobbling his head so that his ponyhawk moves. He spies me and hops off the table, sending half-filled cups everywhere. "My love," he proclaims, enveloping me in a bear hug. "Loveyou. Iloveyou, I do."
One of his ex-flings from 9th grade, a rather pathetic girl named Stella, glares daggers at me. It is common knowledge that Kartik was never much into her and that she has been obsessing over him since they broke up. I'd feel sorry for her if she wasn't such a bitch. Kartik, however, is completely oblivious to her affections, or at least he pretends to be. He plants a wet kiss on my mouth, teasing my tongue clumsily with his own.
"Some people should learn that public displays of affection are the trashiest thing ever," Stella whines to anyone that will (pretend to) listen to her. Kartik squints at her, confused. I suspect a lot of deliberation going on in his undoubtedly drunk brain.
"Who invited you?" he asks. She ignores him.
"Anyway, it's my birthday and if I want to be a bit promiscuous with my boyfriend, I will," I say, kissing Kartik furiously. I'll be damned if that bitch thinks she can tell me what to do in my own boyfriend's house.
"Gemma," he says breathlessly, his eyes bright and shining. "I need to borrow your hairbrush."
"May I ask why?" I gesture to his ridiculous hairdo. "It's not as if you can brush it now."
"I need a microphone. Jon's going to play the song. I am going to sing it."
"What song?"
He huffs and rolls his eyes. "The Van Halen song on Guitar Hero. The one Sanjaya sang to make the girl cry."
"Well sorry, but my hairbrush is in my purse which is in your room. You'll have to find something else to be your microphone."
He frowns at me, probably thinking of a way to make me got get my brush anyway.
"Gemma, why are you so sober? It's your party; you should be the trash – most trashed. Not trashiest. That's what we are not, but Stella is. I think. I'm confused?"
I kiss him on his nose. "You're confused, darling. Go sing your song and I promise I'll take five shots of tequila if Jon can get through the song on hard." I laugh inwardly, knowing that they're both so drunk they'll probably hold the guitars upside down and fail at 13, like I did the first time I ever played.
"But Gemma, I need your hairbrush. Not anyone else's. Yours. Please?"
"Why should I walk up two flights of stairs to your room?"
"Because I don't think I can. I might fall and break my neck and you'll be sorry because I won't be able to give you birthday sex because I'll be dead. But then again, there's always rigor mortis, right? You dirty devil!" He slaps my shoulder in an extremely effeminate way. Kartik always has the tendency to act a little gay when he gets drunk, which explains the Sanjaya getup, but gets weird when he starts play flirting with other guys. At least I don't have to worry about him hooking up with another girl though.
I sigh and stand up in resignation. "There's a dear," he says, smacking my butt.
"Shut up," I call before running up the stairs to the kitchen. I have no intentions of retrieving my hairbrush for the sole purpose of using it as a microphone, but I need a break from the loud and drunkenness. I pour myself a glass of water and sit in the dark kitchen, tapping my fingernails on the granite countertop.
Kartik's parents are both upper class workaholic types, and they're away often on business trips. I often muse how funny it is that in a family of doctors, lawyers, and successful businessmen, there is Kartik, the black sheep, who has a less conventional way of doing things. He's undoubtedly the smartest guy I know, but he is without trying, and he knows it. He can excel in probably any field of study, but he doesn't know what he wants. Last week he swore to me he was going to be a meteorologist, and this week he decided that he should try to get on Project Runway, and I quote, "because he can sew better than that bitch Angela".
The sound of footsteps in the dining room makes my blood run cold. I freeze, knowing that everyone is downstairs. Have his parents come back already? They're gonna flip if they have.
I peer into the dining room and let out a sigh of relief. "Oh Amar, it's just you," I say, holding my hand to my heart. He grins and walks into the kitchen, still in his doctor's scrubs.
"Thought it was my parents, huh?"
"Yup, I thought we were in trouble."
"Well that's why I've come. They called and asked me to check up on my wittle baby brother," Amar says in a baby's voice. I laugh.
"So you're going to bust the party?"
"No, I'm going to have a beer and watch my brother act the fool."
I set my empty glass in the dishwasher, which is nearly filled because I have a lazy boyfriend that can't be bothered with chores. "Well, you're in for a treat, because he is quite drunk."
"Is he slapping guys' asses yet?" He notes my surprised look. "Gemma dear, I have been getting my brother drunk for years. I know the drill. Trust me; we're all thankful you came along. We were beginning to think he really was into guys, but don't worry, he adores you."
I smile weakly. "Thanks, I think."
"So why are you up here by yourself anyway?"
"Well Kartik thinks I'm getting my hairbrush so he can use it as a microphone, because apparently that makes perfect sense in his brain at the moment."
Amar gives me an odd look. "And why would he need a microphone?"
"He's pretending to be Sanjaya Malakar from American Idol."
"It's worse than I thought," he says solemnly, emulating the stereotypical doctor prognosis voice. I giggle; Amar's pretty funny in a careless sort of way. I secretly envy him in a way; for he can spend hours and hours in a depressing atmosphere and still come out of it rather chipper. In fact, I sort of have a crush on him, for he is quite hot, even if he is about ten years older than me. I'd never tell Kartik though. He's compared to his older brother enough as it is.
"Well I'm actually going to get going. Go tell my brother to behave himself. I'd rather not witness this…incident."
"Will do," I say, hovering at the top of the stairs.
"Oh and Gemma, promise me something."
"Sure, what is it?"
"Take tons of pictures and do not delete them," Amar says with a glint in his eye.
I give him an equally wicked smile. "Of course."
He makes a gesture as if to usher me down the stairs. "Now shoo, birthday girl! I'll assure our mummy and daddy that Kartik hasn't burned down the house."
"Thanks, Amar," I say with a grin. "See you later."
I return to the party and am immediately bombarded by Kartik, who has seemed to completely forgotten about the hairbrush.
"Gemma! Gemma, guess what?" he says, grasping my arm and pulling me to the annexed TV room.
"Jesus! What is it, Kartik?"
"As it would turn out, the influence of alcohol has actually improved our skills on Guitar Hero," he says, struggling to sound like he's sober. His friend Jon stands nearby, grinning like a fool with the guitar controller around his neck.
"Good for you," I say, reading the score on the screen with dread.
"You promised, Gemma. We both 5 starred on hard, and now you have to do five shots of tequila."
"Shit." I stamp my foot slightly. "Kartik, that will kill me."
"No," he says simply, producing a large bottle of Jose Cuervo. "It will make you pleasantly tipsy. Uplifted, if you will."
I gape at him. Where does he come up with these things? To my right, Jon has a revelation. It's as if the man has seen God, the way his face has lit up.
"Dude. Salt and limes. Let's make it authentic for the birthday girl."
Kartik's face lights up too. "Brilliant! We bought limes, right?"
"Yeah! I forgot! Limes and salt, right here." Jon brings out a bag of cut limes and a salt shaker.
"You're all mad," I say, backing out of the room.
"Felicity, Ann! She's resisting!" Kartik yells. Suddenly I'm pinned to the floor by my two best friends, shrieking as my skirt rides up dangerously high.
"We do this because we love you," Felicity says, pulling me into a kneeling position. Kartik kneels before me and rubs a lime on the back of his hand before covering it with salt.
"Gem, you know the drill," he says. "Lick it," he gestures to the salt on his hand. "Slam it," he holds up the shot glass of tequila. "And suck it," he says, holding up the lime with a lewd smile. As Ann and Fee have my arms pinned, I am forced to use Kartik's hands, not that I mind. Oh wait, yes I do mind.
"Okay," I say, taking a few deep breaths. "Bring it on."
In a swift motion, I lick Kartik's salty hand, tilt my head back for the shot, and bite into the lime. "Ack!" I cough and sputter, my throat burning with the intensity of the liquor and the sourness of the lime juice.
"Another!" Kartik says, clapping his hands. He sets everything up again. By now, a small crowd of our friends have gathered to watch as I'm force-fed the hard stuff.
"This is humiliating," I whine.
"This is hilarious," Kartik says. "Lick it, slam it, suck it!"
The process repeats. This time however, I don't recover as quickly. My eyes tear at the strength of the tequila and my stomach churns furiously. I wrench my hand from Ann in order to stifle a gag. "No more, please!"
"Nonsense! You've done more before," Felicity insists.
"Almost halfway there, Gemma," Jon says.
"Fine! One more! That's it, though," I say, licking salt from my lips. Kartik eyes me in a very sexy way as he licks a drop of lime juice from his thumb. Ohh I want to jump his bones right now!
This time I nearly spit it right out again. With great effort, I manage to swallow the mess and close my eyes until it finally settles. Aside from my burning stomach, my body feels like it's floating. I recall my tendency to prance instead of walk when I'm drunk. The prospect of doing it here right now is too funny to bear. My smile grows wide, my eyes bright.
Kartik looks beautiful, even with a ponyhawk. I get the urge to sit on him like a carousel horse, for that is surely what he sort of looks like.
"My girlfriend takes shots like a champ," he says, looping an arm around my waist. I smile wider and lean into him, not quite sure where my weight really is resting.
"Kartik," I breathe so that he must lean in to hear me. "Your boy friend, no, you're not gay – friend that is a guy, Jonathan. I think he likes Ann!"
"Why do you say that?" He whispers back.
"I don't know!" I say, breaking into hysterical laughter.
"You are a crazy drunk!"
"I am not the one that looks like a horse."
He stops to consider. "Yes, but you ride them." He looks at me meaningfully. I stare at him, confused. Jon picks up and starts playing more Guitar Hero, drawing Kartik's attention away from me. I stay nuzzled into him, my thoughts wandering like a plastic bag in the wind.
"What a fantastic idea!" I say four minutes later.
Lick it, slam it, suck it. Fantastically disgusting. Everyone should try it once in their life though. Kudos to Gemma for taking 3 in a row. Ick.
I had to put Sanjaya in there. I HAD TO! Don't judge me!
I'm getting a new tattoo tomorrow (hoofprints on my foot),
LunaEquus