A silence hung over our group's corner of the restaurant as Phil rose to his feet, his hands held up for continued quiet. Eight pairs of chopsticks rested on top of eight glasses of beer, and each glass had been placed in front of its owner. With the chopsticks came carefully balanced shots of sake, along with a group of waitresses who stood near our table wearing murderous expressions.

Without warning, Phil pounded his fists on the table, sending a ripple of vibrations across the tops of all of our drinks. One of the waitresses jumped.

"When I say, 'sake', you say 'bomb,'" he shouted, hitting the table again on the last word. "Sake!"

We all hit the table now. "Bomb!"

"Sake!"

"Bomb!"

"Sake, sake, sake!"

"Bomb, bomb, bomb!"

Our collective banging sent our shots tumbling into the glasses below and, in unison, we all reached for our newly mixed drink and chugged the contents. When we were done, the waitresses swept in without a word, gathering our empty glasses and scowling as they surveyed the liquid that we'd spilled.

"I've got the next round," Carlos announced, and while most of the guys cheered, I felt a twinge of sympathy when I heard our servers groan. 

I'd been reluctant to agree when Phil originally suggested ordering sake bombs for the table. For one, I didn't want to get kicked out for being too rowdy, but I was even more afraid of disturbing other people in the restaurant while they ate. After turning his offer down for the first hour of our meal, however, I realized that the place was almost exclusively filled with people on their way to some concert at the Staples Center. Most of them were hammered and after a pack of women started singing the national anthem, I doubted that any of them would be bothered by a little extra noise. 

I waited a few minutes longer just to be sure but the lack of married folks on dates emboldened me enough that I eventually relented. Although one couple looked less than impressed with our antics, their disapproval was outweighed by the number of forty-something-year-old guys in jerseys who stopped by our table to reminisce about their glory days. Each boring story came with another drink for me, and by the time Parker motioned for the check, I'd switched to water in an effort to pace myself. Despite my efforts not to peak too early, I nearly forgot to grab my jacket from the back of my chair when we left. 

"You good?" Parker asked me as I staggered outside.

"Always," I mumbled, reflexively checking my pockets for my wallet and keys. When I couldn't find my phone, I turned to head back inside but Parker grabbed me and slid the touchscreen into my hand. "Thanks."

Two notifications popped up when I typed in the passcode. One was an email from the university's Career Services Center, which I promptly deleted, but the other was a text from Melanie. I glanced furtively at Parker before opening it. Happy birthday, the message read, I hope you have fun tonight! Sorry that I couldn't make it.

I caught myself smiling while I read the text but didn't trust myself to type out a coherent response. Even after our lunch date earlier in the day, all Gemma had thought to send me with respect to my birthday was a rant about how offended she was that we hadn't invited her to come along to the bars. Pocketing my phone again, I turned to Parker and thought aloud, "You should've told Melanie to come."

"I did."

"Really?"

"Yeah, twice. She said she was busy." Parker stuffed his hands into his front pockets. "Why do you care so much, anyway?"

"I don't."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Dunno. I mean, you keep bringing it up every twenty minutes, but whatever."

"She seems like a fun girl, that's all."

"What?" Andy said, coming up behind me. As always, he smelled like the menthols and spliffs that he always smoked, though now the scent of weed that usually clung to him was masked by beer. "We're not fun enough for you? Guys, can you believe this shit?"

"Hey, hey, hey," Carlos said, joining in with a wink. "Let's not let the birthday killjoy spoil our night, yeah?"

He flicked the end of his cigarette to the ground before straightening his collar. "Have we got everyone?" 

Parker nodded. 

"Then let's make moves."

Although I'd seen Parker drinking since the pre-game back at the house, he seemed far more reserved than he usually was after a few shots of liquor. It made me feel a little bit awkward as I swayed along beside him, though the reality of it was that he probably wouldn't have batted an eye if I'd started doing backflips. It was rare for a night out with Parker not to end with him climbing streetlights or chasing a food truck down the street, but I had a feeling that Sophie's absence had put him on his best behavior. Still, he seemed melancholy. Before I could ask if he was feeling okay, Lucas and Corey appeared to flank me on either side.

"This is so awesome," Lucas said, adjusting his cuff links.

I gave his shoulder a solid thump. "Thanks for coming, man. Appreciate it."

"Hey, yeah, of course. Thank you for inviting me." Lucas looked secretly thrilled when Corey pulled a flask from the inside of his jacket and passed along the silver container after unscrewing the top. "What is it?" he asked, sniffing at the contents while Corey laughed.

"Does it matter? Drink it."

Tentatively, Lucas tipped his head back and let a stream of Corey's mystery drink flow into his mouth. Sputtering as the tequila and grapefruit mixture trickled down his chin, Lucas wiped his face with the back of his hand. "Dude, what the hell?"

Corey's eyes glinted wickedly. "You can thank my home brewed jalapeño-infused tequila for the kick. What'd you think?"

Still choking, Lucas rubbed two tears from his eyes. "I think something is legitimately wrong with you."

"Hey, guys," Corey called over his shoulder to the others. "Looks like we just found the perfect pledge to participate in the ghost pepper challenge this year."

A chorus of chuckles rang through the group and even Parker's mouth curved into a smirk. He'd been one of the lucky few chosen to take part in the sadistic eating competition during our pledge class' Hell Week. The rule at the time--come up with by Michael, of course--was that if none of the selected pledges were able to finish eating three ghost chilies in eight minutes, the entire P.C. would be required to wear costume footie pajamas to school until someone could. 

That had been motivation enough for Parker. Although he never seemed to have a problem with wearing ridiculous get-ups to parties, he drew a hard and fast line at extending that to the fashion choices he wore to class. He claimed that he didn't want to draw attention to himself because the professors in the engineering department hated guys in frats--and, frankly, I suspected that was probably somewhat true. At the same time, I also knew that there was no way Parker's pride would have allowed him to waddle across campus while dressed up like a bunny.

Although most of his teammates tapped out after only two of the insanely hot peppers, Parker ate four without flinching. When he slapped the table he'd been stationed at to signal that he was done, the pledge masters made him empty his pockets to prove that he hadn't tried to hide any half-chewed pieces. He hadn't, and knowing that we'd been the first pledge class to complete the challenge on our first try in three years was a monumentally cool moment... In spite of the fact that less than ten seconds after being declared a winner, Parker projectile vomited across everything standing within ten feet of him, myself included.

When Lucas began to protest Corey's comment, I decided to throw him a bone. "The more you say no, the more likely he is to make the punishment worse if you fail," I whispered, keeping my focus directed ahead. "Just go with it."

Clearly skeptical, Lucas shot me a wary look, though he remained silent until Carlos nudged Corey out of the way with a wicked grin. "So, tell me," he said, "who's the weakest link in your pledge class?"

Lucas' eyebrows furrowed. "Excuse me?"

"You know," Carlos continued in a sing-song voice. "Who isn't pulling his weight in pledge tasks? Or... Okay, who do you hate being around?"

The expression on Lucas' face told me he would've preferred to chug the contents of Corey's flask rather than answer either of those questions. "No one," he replied cautiously. I heard the pleading note in his voice and focused my gaze on my shoes. "I like everyone."

"Come on," Corey chimed in now. "Every pledge class has the guy who everyone else looks at and thinks, 'How the hell did he get a bid?'"

A murmur of agreement went through the group. Andy joined in the teasing now. Lighting up a new cigarette, he said, "For us, it was Phil. I think I speak for everyone when I say that I hate the guy."

"Wow, screw you guys," Phil replied from somewhere behind me.

"Yeah, no one likes Phil," Corey stage-whispered. "Phil sucks. Rumor has it that he literally has to pay his roommate to live with him."

Phil stormed past the rest of us before stopping abruptly once he was several yards ahead. He turned around, extending his two middle fingers. "I'm seriously about to kick your ass."

"Whose?" Andy asked innocently. Smoke curled from the end of his lit menthol, climbing towards the sky.

"All you guys'."

"Man, good luck with that," Corey said, prompting both Andy and Carlos to laugh. 

I half-expected Parker to jump in and tell the others to cool it but after a chancing a glance in his direction, it looked like he was content to let the hate-fest on Phil continue. Mattie seemed like he was struggling not to smile and said something to Parker that I couldn't hear. When no one came to his defense, Phil's face turned so red that I honestly thought it might explode. He pivoted and continued his march away from the other boys' laughter, occasionally pausing to flip us the bird again. Eventually he wound up walking so far ahead of us that I lost sight of him.

"The guy can't take a joke," was all Carlos said when I pointed out that Phil had disappeared. "He probably took a cab and ran home to his mommy." 

While I doubted that he'd left to find his mom, I accepted that Phil's temper would likely keep him from coming back. It was mean, but his overwhelming need to be liked made him easy to tease--so we did. Some of us more than others, sure, but everyone took a jab at him on occasion. In some respects, it was actually our way of including him in our group, though I knew he didn't necessarily see it that way. The real problem with teasing Phil was that no one ever knew how he was going to react. Most of the time he brushed our comments off but when he didn't, it was like watching Mount Vesuvius erupt. Tonight, the mountain had blown.

Maybe that's why I was so surprised when I saw Phil waiting outside the first club that we'd planned to visit. No one said anything as he rejoined us, though he and Carlos shook hands in what I could only guess was some sort of truce.

It was unseasonably chilly and I blew into my hands in a desperate attempt to warm them. Despite Parker's assurances that he'd called ahead to have us added to the guest list, we made it through the line at a snail's pace. It was clearly a busy night in downtown L.A., and groups of attractive girls in mini skirts were waved in front of us by the bouncers at the door. Andy had switched to puffing away at an electronic cigarette, though whenever his lips left the device, he made sure to complain about how badly he needed to pee.

"I'm about to piss myself," he grumbled as we inched forward, only to be halted a few feet away from the entrance.

"Good thing your pants are black," Mattie replied.

When we finally made it in, Andy took off for the nearest restroom and as he sprinted off, I paused to admire the interior of the massive venue. Strobe lights flickered across the walls at a hypnotic pace and I felt a rush of relief that everyone seemed to have forgotten the tension on the street. Phil and Carlos were busy leering at the performers dancing next the DJ's booth and Mattie excused himself to go get drinks from the bar. It wasn't until Lucas coughed that I realized Parker had disappeared. 

"Where'd Jennings go?" I asked. Lucas shrugged but then held up a finger as he reached into his jacket pocket for a small case.

"Hang on a sec," he said, and I watched while he removed his implant's earpiece and began to fiddle with it. "The battery on this thing just died."

I shifted uncomfortably, my thumbs hooked onto my pant loops. Although I'd never ask, I wondered how much of the pounding house music Lucas could actually hear. He never seemed to have much of a problem hearing me when we spoke one-on-one, but I'd noticed that he  occasionally struggled when there was a lot of background noise or too many people were talking at once. My heart sank when it hit me that a nightclub was probably one of the worst places I could've dragged him to if I wanted him to feel included in our conversations. 

As if reading my mind, Lucas said, "I don't usually listen to this kind of music."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. His earpiece was back in place. "It all sounds the same to me. I keep trying to get into it but I think I'll always be more of a rock fan."

Before I could tell him that I felt the same way, Parker popped out from the shadows with a stack of wristbands clasped tightly in his fist. "Here," he said, handing me one of the bright orange bands. He passed another to Lucas.

"What's this for?" I asked as I secured the strip. I gave it a gentle tug to make sure it wouldn't fall off.

"It's Sophie's birthday present to you."

"Huh?"

"Come on," Parker said, motioning for Lucas and I to follow him. We weaved nimbly through the crowds before reaching a roped off area. The bouncer eyed us curiously but before he could say anything, Parker flashed his wristband. With an approving grunt the man unhooked the barrier to let us through.

"Where are we going?" I asked. Parker shook his head.

"You'll see."

As we climbed a set of stairs, and then another, a spark of excitement grew in my chest while I tried to figure out where I was being led. Lucas nudged me once we reached the second landing, but all I could offer him was a shrug. Whether or not he believed me, I genuinely didn't have a clue as to where we were going.

My thoughts began to run wild after we showed our wristbands to another bouncer in a deserted hallway. Soon after I imagined myself being handed a plush robe before being taken to a V.I.P. room. If I closed my eyes, I could perfectly envision an Olympic-size swimming pool filled with high-end champagne and runway models... Runway models holding platters of fried mac and cheese balls. What could be better? Before I had the chance to picture myself cannonballing into the waters of luxury, my daydream was replaced with an image of Sophie scowling as she rolled her eyes.

So, maybe thinking that I'd be tossed into a scene from a bad James Bond movie was a little over the top. But even in my wildest dreams, I still never would've guessed that the final door Parker opened would lead to a balcony directly above the DJ booth. While it may not have been a swimming pool overflowing with bubbly, the bottles of booze that had been artfully arranged on the table in the balcony's center would more than suffice. Eagerly, I started for the lounge chair closest to the carafe of cranberry juice but as I glanced down, my heart jumped into my throat.

I flailed, trying to grab onto something sturdy but only finding Parker's sleeve. "Holy sh--"

"Dude, relax," he said. "It's a glass floor."

As if to prove it, he tapped the toe of his shoe against the surface before shrugging me off. "How else would the table stay up?"

"Yeah, right," I said, feeling like an idiot but still slightly shaken. Only mildly annoyed that Lucas had snagged the chair that I'd been eyeing, I straightened my jacket before shaking Parker's hand. As we both reached around to pound each other on the back, my thoughts drifted to my childhood. It was strange to think that I hadn't had a birthday party in twenty years that Parker hadn't come to, and as that sank in, I wondered when we'd gotten so old.

"Happy birthday," Parker said with one final thump before pulling away. "Hope being one year closer to thirty doesn't suck too much."

"Whatever, just tell Sophie I said thank you." I swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how touched I really was by the gesture. "It means a lot."

"Thanks for looking out for her in class," he replied quietly, and I knew that this was as much a gift from him as it was from his girlfriend.

"This is awesome," Lucas exclaimed from his seat. Parker and I turned to look at him. He pointed at an intercom in the corner of the balcony. "It's so you can call for a server to come, right? Like an airplane? So awesome."

I shook my head, wondering if Lucas was aware of just how many times a day he described things as being "awesome." I liked the kid and all, but not everything in life deserved his unwavering level of enthusiasm. Then again, I could hardly make fun of his word choice when I felt exactly the same way.

"I'm going to round up the others," Parker said, heading towards the door we'd come through. "Feel free to get started."

Settling into a leather chair across from Luke, I stared at the crowd dancing below us and my heart started to pound again--but in a good way. Perhaps it was strange considering where we were, but I felt completely at peace as I sat in that glass loft. The unbridled panic that always lurked in my mind was gone, replaced with a soothing hum. It was almost like a lullaby, and along with the hum came a pleasant tingling that ran through my core. If I had to describe it, it was like the buzz I felt after a few drinks, but different. Better. Maybe I couldn't really explain it at all.

I leaned back. I guess it had been a while since I'd been that happy.   

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A/N: Hello! So, to make things easier on you guys, I decided to chop my mega-chapter in half. Hope you enjoyed this first part! I will likely update again tomorrow or Friday depending on when I have time to edit. Please let me know your thoughts - votes and comments are always appreciated. :) Sorry for any typos that I missed! <3