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Spencer's mind was elsewhere from the party.
he watched the colors from the lights reflect into his cup fo vodka. They swirled and moved with every sway of his body. He felt like the alcohol, swaying and moving in time, swirling in a cup full of colors. But hell, maybe he was just getting tipsy.
His heavy lids blinked a few times before Hayden, his best friend, wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
"Spence, man, you striking out tonight?"
Hayden mocked. Spencer felt the more time e spent with Hayden sober, the more he disliked him. So he took a hefty sip of his plain vodka. It burned his mouth and throat, and his face scrunched up as he swallowed two mouthfulls.
His stomach particularly didn't like that. He felt the burn of the alcohol, and the regret building that he might get sick.
But he put on his cool front, and smirked. His eyes scanned the crowd, before gesturing to you in the crowd, a total stranger. His brows raised, and he looked to Hayden. They had the same thing in mind. With a quick nod of approval, Spencer set out into the crowd. His dirty shoes would be heard squeaking against the floor if it wasn't for the loud music.
And then, he played the trick he pulled *way* too many times.
He 'mistakenly' ran into the back of them, 'spilling' his vodka down their front with a strategic pour over their shoulder. He put his hands on their shoulder, spinning them to face him.
"Ah, shit, I'm sorry,"
he said, but his lazy voice made it seem anything but genuine. He scanned you up and down, his dark eyes shrouded in smudged eyeliner. A slow smirk etched across his face before he leant forward.
"Why don't we go to the bathroom, I can help dry you off."
He said with a shit-eating grin.
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