His meaning doesn’t register until the door gives way. I put my hands up to grab for the jambs, but I’m not quick enough. I fall face first into his front foyer. The hardwood floor doesn’t make it a soft landing.
I grunt on impact, and one of the girls rushes over to help me while Lance laughs his ass off. I tell her I’m fine and lie there for a few seconds before I roll over onto my back. Flash Beaver gets me again. I can see right up her skirt from the floor. It’s like a loose meat sandwich up in there. I’ve seen more beaver in the last thirty minutes than I have since I started trying to date Sunny.
Randy puts a hand out to help me up.
I wave him off. “I’ll stay here until the pizza arrives, yeah?”
“That could take a while. Let’s get you a couch.” I take his hand, but make no effort to help with the whole standing-up business. When he’s about to give up, I yank his arm and he ends up on the floor with me. I put him in a headlock.
He scrambles to get out, but he’s drunk too, and I have the element of surprise. “Fuck you, asshole,” he tells me.
“Oh my God!” One of the girls screams while we wrestle on the floor like idiots. “Are they seriously fighting? Shouldn’t you stop them?”
“They’re fine.” Lance puts a hand on two of the ladies’ lower backs. “Come on. Let’s get some drinks and hit the hot tub.”
Randy elbows me in the side, and I let him go. He rolls over and pops up, weaving as he follows Lance and the bunnies. It’s a lot of work to get my ass off the floor, but I manage. I slide-walk down the hall with my shoulder against the wall to stop from falling over again.
I need water—and that horrible drink my trainer, Natasha, gives me when I’m hungover. But Lance’s kitchen is way far away. I stumble into the massive living room and over to the unoccupied couch. When my knees hit the arm, I fall forward like a tree. My aim is bad, and I’m on an angle, so I roll off and smack my head on the coffee table.
“Ow! Fuck!” There isn’t enough space for me to turn onto my back, so I lie there instead, wedged between the couch and the coffee table.
Lance laughs. “You all right, Butterson?”
“There’s a spent condom under here.”
“Oh yeah? Wanna get that for me.”
“Pretty sure I don’t.” It’s covered in dust, but I can tell it’s red—so he definitely got it from me. Or maybe I’m the one who used it. I have no idea. I always order the assorted rainbow pack that comes with the big container of lube.
I’ve nicknamed the condoms according to color: red is for devil dick, green is the green giant, blue is for smurf cock, and the black is the sledgehammer. I’m not a fan of the yellow ones; they look less banana-y and more like my dick has jaundice. My personal faves are the glow-in-the-dark ones, which make my dick look like a big glow stick.
“You gonna lie on the floor, or are you coming outside to hang in the hot tub?”
“I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
“Whatever you say, Butterson. But if you fall asleep there, I’m not waking your ass up.”
“That’s fine.”
I watch pointy heels teetering toward the patio doors.
“I don’t have a bathing suit,” says Flash Beaver.
Lance puts an arm around her waist, his hand settling on her ass. “Who needs bathing suits?”
Loud music blasts through the house and the outdoor speakers. I hear a distant splash and a scream. Someone got thrown in the pool. I lay with my cheek mashed against the floor, staring at the dusty condom, wishing I’d gone home instead of coming here. I must pass out like that, because the next thing I know, the doorbell’s ringing. It takes me three tries to get up. Then the door isn’t staying still, so it’s hard to get to.