Come outside, loser. I'm taking you to a party.

I'm in the middle of doing absolutely nothing when I receive Nat's text, yet I still groan as I roll myself out of my blanket cocoon and out of bed. My phone tumbles to the floor in the process, so when I finally recover and unlock my phone, I do it in a strenuous squat.

Why do you never tell me anything in advance?

I go to the window to see how much time I have -- if Nat's car is actually outside like he said, then I have to rush; if not, then I can chill the fuck out for a second. It's the former. I open the window and scream at the figure leaning on the front door of his car.

"Hey, did you see my text?" I yell to him.

His phone previously in his hand and at his side, he raises it to his line of vision and reads the aforementioned message. Lowering his phone again, Nat asks, "Now I have a question for you, Link: why are you such a fucking prude?"

"It's not very classy to holler curse words in a neighborhood full of children and families," I scold him.

"It's not very classy to holler at me from a window, either, so let's go," he deadpans, waving for me to come outside.

I shut the window, fly down the stairs, shout something very vague to my parents about where I'm going, and meet Nat at his car.

As I'm attempting to climb into the passenger seat, Nat smacks my ass and comments, "You're looking like a real treat in that getup."

What he means is the oversized t-shirt and basketball shorts that I didn't have time to change out of. It's not my best look, but Nat demanded to see me, so this is the look he gets.

I twist my head over my shoulder and glare at him, making sure he sees it. "If you had told me we were going to a party before you actually showed up at my house, I would be better dressed."

Walking around to the other side of the car, this is where he concedes. "Touché."

~~~~~

https://youtu.be/QJsy_6vO5n8

"Rule one: don't get drunk," Nat instructs me on the journey up the driveway.

I don't know whose house this is, but I'm not the one with connections or even a functional memory, and all I need is Nat anyway, so I don't stress over it. Parties aren't really for connecting with the host as much as getting hammered and nailed, one of which I'm not allowed to do according to Nat and the other I probably shouldn't do.

"I'm the designated driver, but I'd rather you not make drunk decisions. I'm looking out for your safety here."

The moment we step into the house, my designated driver is assaulted by his queen bee girlfriend. "Nat!" Tessa exclaims, drawing him into a passionate kiss that lasts about six awkward seconds until she draws back. She eventually notices me and greets me in a way that makes it crystal clear that she's only here for Nat. "Oh, hey..."

"Link," I prompt.

She gives me the exact smile that just screams, "That's nice, but I don't care."

"Sorry about that," he mouths to me, but he shouldn't being apologizing quite yet, as Tessa hasn't let go of him.

She drags Nat to the couch,, and my only option is to follow. I do not wish to get lost in a sea of people I don't know. Unfortunately, I am put in basically the same situation of loneliness while Nat and Tessa suck face next to me. At least Tessa was courteous enough to make room for me on the sofa by sitting on Nat's lap and, well, grinding on it. Wow, I really am so glad Nat brought me along to this social function. Tessa, never satisfied, takes Nat's hand to lead him to whatever private room they can find, even if it's a bathroom full of hard tile, the only thing harder than Nat's dick right now. Their absence is not much of a change for me, seeing as Tessa and Nat have been ignoring me for the past few minutes in favor of each other.

But in an unlikely turn of events, Nat unhooks himself from Tessa's grasp and says, "I brought Link to this party so that he could have a good time, but it doesn't seem like he's doing that."

Tessa's lips curl into a pout, but I only smile secretly until I have to hide my glee when Nat swivels back around and collapses onto the couch beside me.

"Don't tell her I said this, but she's so tiring," he laments, head tilted back on the top cushion of the sofa so he can just take a breather. He is soon interrupted.

"Yo, what's up, Nat?" a guy holding a red solo cup filled partway with beer greets my friend. "You want a beer?"

Nat puts his hands up as if he's under arrest for being a party buzzkill. "No can do. I'm the designated driver."

"Aw, that sucks." For some reason, he seems genuinely disappointed.

"Yeah, so does stunted brain development."

The guy gives Nat a bewildered look before swiftly shifting his eyes over to me. "Hey, you're the kid who got amnesia, right?" He points at me, and I nod, opting not to make a sarcastic comment about how everyone at school knows this information. "You want this beer?"

"I'd rather not experience alcohol-induced amnesia. I've experienced enough amnesia already."

"Whatever, dude," he chuckles. In an instant, he's gone, presumably hunting down the next person he's trying to give his beer to.

"I didn't realize you were so popular," I say with a nudge against Nat's arm.

"Popularity is not as glamorous as it may look."

"Didn't say it was. You're my only friend, but I'm incredibly happy nevertheless."

He doesn't verbally address my sappy comment, but he does lean his head on my shoulder lovingly, and we are just suspended in each other's rhythm with the soundtrack of the party commotion blaring in the background, yet we're both hyperfocused on each other. That is, until Nat proves to me that he wasn't focusing so much on me as I was on him. "I should really be doing my English project right now."

I don't thank him for ruining the tender moment we were sharing, instead inquiring, "Would you rather be living it up at a party with me or would you rather be working on a lame English project?"

"I'd rather be making healthy decisions so I can continue this healthy behavior in college."

"Fuck!" I blaspheme, causing Nat to sit up straight. "I haven't been thinking about colleges."

"Dude." He laughs and returns his head to the position it was in before he was interrupted by the beer guy.

"I don't think I'll go. All this amnesia shit has really put a roadblock in my career."

I might just stay in my parents' house for the rest of my life, in this boring Ohio town. Maybe my memories will come back at some point. The head trauma may or may not be permanent. Although, if I'm being completely honest with myself, I think this amnesia is a mix between an effect of head trauma and emotional suppression. I have no clue what I would be suppressing, but I keep the idea in the back of my head.

"Plus your transcript is shit," Nat adds, the bold man that he is, a man who does not fear telling me how it is, except for when it's important to my amnesia recovery.

"Oh fuck, really?" I chuckle. All I can do is chuckle. I'm not too concerned with college, not after the incident. "How did that happen?"

"I guess you were dealing with some shit before the crash and your grades started slipping."

"What kind of shit?" I investigate.

Nat looks away. "It was just a guess. I didn't really know you before the crash."

Well I must've had some sort of connection to him, because everyone is shocked that I've become friends with him.

"Nat!" another guy shouts from the kitchen. "Come and do body shots with us!"

He winces, feigning dismay about the fact that he swore off drinking at the party. "No thanks, I don't intend to drink any alcohol tonight."

"Then people can do shots off of you," the guy suggests.

"Will you bug me if I don't?"

He wears a devilish smirk. "Absolutely."

Groaning, Nat pushes himself up from the sofa and takes me by the hand, leading me to the kitchen where a group of six boys have cleared off a table to do body shots off of. They gesture to it as if they're his royal servants and the table is his throne. He relieves himself of his letterman jacket and shirt and mounts the wooden structure, electing to prop himself up on his elbow for the time being.

"Leanna, come here and do a body shot off of Nat Kingsley!" a boy calls to a girl passing by the kitchen on her way to the living room.

She stops in her tracks and pivots towards the kitchen, unable to turn down this offer. "The Nat Kingsley?"

Grabbing her attention, Nat winks at her. "The one and only."

"Nat, what would your girlfriend think?" I tease.

"Where do you suppose she's been all night? We all know she's cheating on me with one of my friends," he replies nonchalantly, and I choke on my own spit. "Careful now."

One boy pours a line of salt from Nat's bellybutton to the intersection of his collarbones, and another boy places a slice of lime in between his teeth with the rind facing downward. They give Leanna the nod of permission.

Eyes brimming with mischief, the girl's chin hovers over the trail of black hair below Nat's bellybutton. The way she licks her lips before commencing really convinces me that she's not, in fact, a high school student but rather a stripper, although her technique is not so typical of a stripper. She rushes through it, all the while tickling Nat's stomach so that he's giggling when she sucks the juice out of the lime slice in his mouth.

"Eh, that wasn't very exciting," a kid, Emilio, from my math class complains when it's over. "Nat, you can lick the tequila and salt off someone now, but let's make it gay."

Nat shakes his head authoritatively. "I already told you I'm not going to drink tonight. Designated driver, remember?"

"We'll do a light sprinkle of tequila, then," the guy who invited Nat over here, whose name I overhear as Michael, promises, and this is what it takes to make Nat accept. He's a people pleaser, I guess, and he wants to provide a good time, not just for me.

I notice that the beer guy is a part of the group, which is something that I learn when he opens his mouth to suggest that I be the person Nat licks salt and tequila off of because I refused his drink and therefore haven't had any fun tonight. The rest of the group is in agreeance, and before I even have time to process what's going on, my shirt is being lifted over my head and I'm being ushered onto the table.

"Don't do this to him," Nat scolds.

Emilio, however, persists. "Come on, Nat! Let the kid have some fun."

https://youtu.be/nV_A8CD0Cp8

Normally I would say something sarcastic like, "Yeah, come on, Nat," but I'm too busy being nervous about the thought of Nat licking salt and tequila off my torso to do anything other than swallow dryly.

The boys prepare the shot but on me this time. With the lime in such close proximity to my nose, it thankfully blocks the pungent smell of the tequila sloshing around on my stomach. There's a plus side to this irresponsible party game.

Nat glances at each of the boys surrounding him with obvious hesitance in his expression before he lowers his head to be able to perform the body shot. He's wary to start, but once he does, I say the same thing about Nat as I did about Leanna.

His tongue meanders languidly across my skin to collect the salt, then he uses quick strokes to lap up the tequila. His eyes are wild and hungry when he flicks them up to me, and it makes the already sexual situation even more sexual, not to mention effective in increasing the speed of my breathing. Nat's tongue drags all the way up to my collarbones where they've put some extra tequila in one of them for extra entertainment. His method of drinking it is to suck on my collarbones like his mission is to give me a hickey, and he's probably going to. When he's done with the alcohol and salt section, he smirks as he lifts his head to start the lime section. Nat's torso brushes against my own due to the shift in elevation of his new task, raising goosebumps from my flesh. He gathers the juice from the lime slice on his tongue as if he were making out with it. His nose is flush against mine, and his lashes bat against my skin. The whole ordeal is nothing less than erotic. I'm just curious as to why he enjoys torturing me like this. Why is this heterosexual man doing all of this?

To wrap it all up, Nat transfers control of the lime from me to himself and spits it out on the floor. The boys all cheer, but his focus is on me. He drinks in my flushed cheeks and heavy breathing, and all the frustrating bastard can do is grin.

~~~~~

"So did you have a good time at the party?" Nat asks me as I slide into the passenger seat.

I scowl.

~~~~~

A/N: i hope this chapter made u question ur entire self bc that's what happened to me

~Dakotequila