Pencils & Polaroids

18: after-party alcohols

"Captain Morgan smells awfully different than the three other drinks you handed me, Mister--" I hand the bottle of Rum back to the bartender who claims to be Grayson's older cousin. "--What did you tell me your name was again?" 

He made a moue as he carefully snagged the bottle from my hands. "Isaac," he puckered his lips. "And it doesn't smell the same because I mixed it with coke. Diet coke, as you specifically preferred." He notes that my dour face needs more explication. "You had three rounds of Cuba Libre. It's Rum and Coke." 

"Why didn't you give me just the Rum?" I shrug. 

By the looks of it, he is hesitantly annoyed to answer. "Because this Rum isn't consumed neat--plain. People who are regular drinkers probably can consume it just like that but it's preferred as a highball cocktail." He scratches his forehead mumbling, "Especially for people like you" but I catch it. 

"And how would you explain you know these details?" I hope to raise one of my brows but my features somehow don't cooperate with my mind's commands. 

"Booze university," he waits quietly as I narrow my eyes to burst out laughing. "My father has a liquor business. I've ventured into a couple of companies myself. And," he glances to the ceiling for a fleeting second, "Let's just say my teenage habits made me pay a visit to Alcoholics Anonymous once before I got back on track." 

"Chain drinker," I smirk bobbing my head while he chuckles. "But I don't think your career should've been inspired by your teen habits though," I finish the last sip of the cocktail he served me. 

He takes my glass with a sarcastic gasp that he quickly replaces with a straight face. "You sound just like my mother." 

I extend my hand. "Park," I say as he shakes it. "I'm your cousin's soon-to-be girlfriend's best friend and your cousin's best friend's arch nemesis." He laughs letting his head roll back to his shoulders. "Wow, that's the aptest introduction--I don't seem to be drunk at all." 

"Sure you don't," he says loudly before leaning in. His next words are lessened to a whisper. "But you should know this is the third time you've introduced yourself to me." He gives me a pity smile when my jaw drops low. "But, but, but, you got the introduction right this time." 

"Ugh," I scowl getting off the bar chair and adjusting my top. "You are just as annoying as Grayson. You shouldn't even be serving alcohol to high school Seniors. I could sue you." 

"Coming from the girl who told me she came to this party just for the liquor, it's a little contradicting." He wipes a cloth over my spot on the bar table. 

I hold my head to remember that memory but my mind seems to be a blank slate. "What else did I tell you?" I'm whining now. 

"That you're pissed off about something, you want to kill someone, and find me really hot." He pouts. "Sorry kiddo, I'm a little old for you." 

"I did not say that--" I instantly fight back. "Now you're just messing with me." 

He starts chuckling after a second. "Okay, yeah, I'm messing with you. I'm not that old though. So if you're still interested--" 

I sway to the table, grab the cloth from his hand, and throw it on his face. Not that it actually reaches his face. It falls on his end of the table and it only makes him laugh more because I do my grumpy groan with clenched fists. 

Steadying myself, I hold my head high, back straight, and chest out, as I walk towards the house. I didn't realize how cold the outdoor open bar was at this time of the night until I was in the warm living room fired up with red LED strip lights glued to the borders of the false ceiling. The change in lighting and mood from an outdoor pool bar to an indoor scarlet ablaze makes me want to readjust my vision so I don't see spots of other colors.