Brent definitely did not own any neon clothes. He didn't need to search through his walk-in closet because he didn't have one. The few outfits he wore frequently were scattered across the floor of his bedroom and after sniffing a few t-shirts, he found a white v-neck that looked and smelled like it was clean. With a shrug, he tossed it on in place of the black one he was wearing and left the jeans and black combat boots in place. It wasn't the typical outfit he was sure to see at the party, but white was at least better than black, he decided. He didn't really care about the dress code to begin with, but he also didn't want to stick out at the party of the new girl. He had spilled Jane's secret about using drugs in front of her without a care the night before, but he didn't want to push his lucky around Hailey. She may not have minded his behavior at Sydney's, but at her own party, that could be different. It wasn't going to stop him from selling drugs because especially after his conversation with Piper ended on a 'maybe' note, he was sure he was going to be making cash.
"I'm leaving!" he called out to Cameron. The creaking sound of his brother's bed and the moans of a girl forced him out of the apartment even faster, without waiting for a response. He stuffed his pockets with a couple bags of weed and this time, a smaller bag of Jane's drug of choice. He wasn't going to risk losing a large sum to Sydney again tonight, that was for sure.
It was only around seven-thirty, so Brent opted to take the half-hour walk to Hailey's party rather than waste the couple dollars on a bus ride. The weather was brisk, especially wearing only a t-shirt, but Brent didn't really mind it. It beat the stuffy, drug-stench that he was used to in his own house.
To: Piper
I'm omw. Our deal still good?
To: Charlotte
Don't think I forgot about you admitting to being into me. Haven't stopped thinking of u since either, babe. And you know, when I imagine you without clothes and in my bed, the self-righteousness doesn't seem as off putting
He had realized that Charlotte's text message from yesterday hadn't actually been sent by her. She was never flirty with him, at least not in such a direct way, and while he figured that it was Rose, it didn't hurt to rub it in that no matter who typed it, it had been sent from her phone. That was enough evidence for him that she wasn't as turned off by him as she liked to act.