Chapter Nine and a half – The end of the game.
Ryan placed his hands on the table, steadying himself. The six vodka shots were starting to take effect. Not that he was going to let Brendon see. After peeling off the incredibly tight black shirt, he was going to level the playing field- even if it meant stripping. As he watched Brendon swallow down his fourth helping of the acrid liquid he realised he had no clue how much time had passed since he'd been dragged into this party. He looked around for a clock, 5.40pm. Fuck, he wasn't one to deny himself the odd early evening drink- but 5.40?
The glass rolled over to his hemisphere of the table and Ryan watched as Brendon sharply kicked off his shoes. There was no messing about anymore. Ryan watched the well made loafers skid across the wooden floor, before diverting his attention back to the small glass. He rolled it back to Brendon, who smirked as Ryan pulled off his socks.
"Nice tactic you've got going on there Farro. Shame it won't work." Brendon rolled the glass right back, and proceeded to also strip his feet of socks.
"Fun though." Said Ryan, as Ray filled the shot glass. Ryan counted, he had two or three shots left before he was going to start to lose pretty much all sense of what was going on. Brendon could have up to seven, he now realised. Depending on how much he'd eaten beforehand. Which considering how well prepared he'd been, was likely to be a lot of bread. He cursed his competitive brain, and tossed his head back. Seven. He squeezed his eyes shut, registering the woozy sensation of not quite knowing what side of gravity you're on. The only clothing he had on now were his pair of ultra skinny jeans. Gerard had told him earlier that there was no point in even trying to fit underwear underneath them. He sighed heavily and pushed the glass towards Brendon.
A chorus of "Jeans, jeans, jeans!" had been taken up by the crowd and Ryan put his head in his hands- why did he come here. Why did Farro pick him. He looked up and caught Brendon's eyes. The chocolate brown eyes that stared back were cold.
"You've got until I drink this shot to take them off Ryan." He said in a less than compassionate tone. Ray poured the electric blue drink into the glass. Brendon picked it up.
"Give it back." Stuttered Ryan, the words forcing their way out of his heavy lips. Brendon raised an eyebrow before putting the glass back down. He slid it back, his hand over the top- making sure not to spill anything.
As Ryan reached out to grab the glass Brendon recoiled. Ryan registered a cheer somewhere as he drained the glass. Somewhere far off, it sounded as though it was underwater. Like the kitchen lighting. Ryan felt like he was inside a very thick bubble, the sound was almost getting through- but not quite. Only one word penetrated the bubble. It came from the man sitting opposite him.
Brendon had leant forwards, his mouth next to Ryan's ear.
"Gamma-hydroxybutyrate." He said, as Ryan hit the table, head first.
I decided I couldn't leave you hanging any longer when it came to the last chapter. Things are getting interesting, no? I'll try and have a full next chapter up before Sunday- the draft I have of it is pretty...interesting. Until then... (Review my midget chapter fill?)