Day 10: Even More Greg

We weren't the only ones who were trashed, though. And the drunker everyone got, the louder they got, so much so that by the time we had given up on dancing, the party had gotten even louder than it had been when I arrived.

Greg had excused himself a few minutes ago, and I was left clinging more or less to the lip of the bar as I tried to steady myself. The party was still raging around me, but the brief interlude of relative quiet was enough for me to reorient my surroundings a bit. It was time to chug some water and start to head home. If I slipped out now, I'd be able to avoid saying bye to Greg, and---

"Haha, hey you, when's your birthday?!" Greg was halfway down the stairs and somehow shouting and giggling at the same time.

"I'm gonna take off!" I tried to answer, but my voice had been cracking for the past half hour.

"What?! Hahahaha!"

I tried again, and tried hard to move my lips deliberately so that maybe he could figure it out before he made it all the way into the room and snagged me again. "I'm ta-king off!" I cried.

"Go outside?!" Greg asked, pointing to the cellar stairs that led up to the back porch. He started for the door before I really had a chance to respond. It seriously looked as if his shoulders were shaking with laughter.

Fuck. I was getting really tired. But maybe sitting and chatting for a bit would admittedly be more safe than just fleeing the scene. "Um, okay!" I shouted to his back.

Once outside the basement, Greg's back porch was actually quite lovely. The atmosphere was entirely different from the brash underground party just a few feet away. He had some very nice looking wicker furniture, and had lined the railing with little candle sconces. A few tired partygoers were chatting or dozing in the seats closest to the basement door, so we made our way over to the loveseat up against the far wall.

"Wow, it is so much nicer out here!" Greg said loudly, startling a guy I'd never seen before who was sort of slumped over next to the grill. "Sorry," he whispered exaggeratedly.

"Much quieter, yes," I said, all of a sudden nervous about having to keep up a conversation now that we could actually hear each other.

"So, I was trying to ask you, when is your birthday?" Greg settled into the loveseat, but fortunately kept his distance.

"Uh, January," I responded, unsure as to why he needed to know. He didn't think I was underage or anything, did he?

"Ah. That makes you a Capricorn, right? Or Aquarius?"

"Aquarius, actually," I said, a little surprised, "although I don't really know much about it. "How about you?"

"Aries. April," he said. "The ram. I'm supposed to be fiery, passionate, driven. I don't put too much stock in the whole Zodiac thing, but everything I've ever read about Aries seems to describe me pretty well."

"What about Aquarius? I've never read anything about it."

"I think you're supposed to be a hard worker, very smart, but high strung," he said, after hesitating a moment.

"Hmm," I responded, almost inaudibly. I suppose it could have been true. I was curious about the context -- when was I supposed to high strung? How did different circumstances affect how I turned out? It'd be so nice to read a perfect description of me on paper, so that I wouldn't have to keep wondering.

"I don't remember exactly," Greg said, his eyes looking a bit glased over.

"Your party turned out nicely," I said, unable to really think of much else to say.

"Oh yeah, thanks. Yeah, it did. Well, hell, these are all a great bunch of people. I love throwing parties. Great space for it." His gaze traveled the length of the porch. "Now what did you think of everyone?" he asked, suddenly and emphatically, looking a bit mischievous.

"The party guests?" I asked. "I guess I don't really remember all the people I met, I mean..."

"No, no," Greg waved his hand as if to brush away my last statement. "I meant everyone from the studio. What did you think of them all getting crazy at a bender?!" His voice rose in volume and pitch at that last statement, as if it was hilarious to him and he couldn't hold it in.

"Well, uh..." I started, not really sure what kind of answer he was expecting. "I think I got just as crazy as they all did, so I don't think it was out of the ordinary or anything...."

At this point Greg was laughing out loud and clutching his stomach. "Oh boy, Mark, at that last round of beer pong, do you remember that? Getting so mad at us? HAHAHAHA!"

I did, at least hazily, and laughed a little as well. Greg and I had won the round and Greg had really jeered Mark and his partner, whoever it was. He didn't let it go until he really pissed Mark off. "I hope he won't still be mad on Monday though," I said somewhat seriously. The thought of heading home was really nagging at me now; it had to have been about three or four in the morning.

"Oh no, he won't," Greg said, rolling his eyes and again lettig his gaze drift over the length of the porch. "Mark is extremely competitive, but he's a good guy. I should know," he said, snapping his attention back to me, "because he really encouraged me when I told him I was thinking of asking you out."

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Word count: 951