I saunter up, but the pool gate was locked. (really? locked for a freakin' apartment function?)
"Oh, hey. I won't leave you hanging out there," some random guy runs up to let me in.
"Thanks," I say, searching the faces.
I walk in. It is dark and the lights from the pool actually make it harder to see who is whom. There are people in the pool tossing balls and screaming. A few couples sit beside the pool drinking and talking. There is a guy at the grill and a pool table to my right as I walk in the gate. A DJ is playing crappy, loud music by the doors of the great room. Basically, a chaotic apartment function as usual. No organization. Just random people doing random things.
After about five minutes I realize that I don't see Saint or Montana. I sit on the nearest sofa and text him.
"Where are you?"
"At the pool."
"Duh. Where in the pool?"
pause
pause
"Hello????? Saint, where in the pool are you?"
no response
Now, I gotta admit I am getting a bit peeved at this point. I came here to see my man and have a beer. Not sit at a pool waiting for the nearest creep to hit on me. (oh did I mention there is some insanely drunk guy oogling me? ew, gross.)
After about sixteen uninformative texts, I gather that he is at the poker table. The one that I walked right by twenty freaking minutes ago. I walk up and there are six people sitting at the table. All have cards, but only a few are sober.
I walk right up to Saint and say, "Hey stranger, how did you not see me walk in?"
He looks up, fuzzily and says, "Huh?"
Oh right, he's a little toasted. Hmmm, should be interesting.
But what's really interesting to me is that some girl is totally hitting on Montana, my boy's roommate. I am immediately protective because not just any girl can have him. He deserves to be happy. Y'know? He just got his heart broken and I won't let some other skuzzie girl do that.
Side note: Being drunk, Montana has NO GAME. Seriously. None. But obviously this girl has no idea because she is totally in to him.
They flirt back and forth. He calls her "Spiky hair" because she has short hair and it sticks out a bit. She is cute, but when I walked up she gave me the once over as if to wonder who am I, but what she didn't realize was I have been in for awhile now. It is she who must get approved.
Later, much later, I walk by the pool area to get to Saint's place and Montana and Spikey hair are the only ones sitting there. Instantly I think, "could it be?" But because of the alcohol they have consumed, I brush it aside.
Next day, I stop by. Saint informs me that Montana got mad because he was locked out. All night. I ask where he slept and am told on a box in the laundry room. Well, well I would have thought he would have "got some" last night.
"Oh he did," replies Saint.
"WHAT?!?! He got laid and he still slept in the laundry room? Why didn't he just stay at her house?"
Now here is the conundrum, peeps. Why is it that guys leave? He could have stayed, slept on a bed and probably got laid a few more times.
Here is the conundrum for men - Saint and Montana want to know if I got Spikey hair's real name.
"Me? Nope. I didn't catch it."
Dead silence between the two of them.
Immediately I am suspicious.
"Why?"
pause
very, long pause
"I can't remember her name."
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