Sure, he's at the party, but it's not like he's the popular guy or the one people want to hang out with. He chugged a bunch of acetone before he came to sort of get mentally calm, making an appearance mainly because he's bored, he's not working, and it's better than sitting in the back of his truck reading textbooks. Here, it's warm and there's food.

He's been hovering around the snack table when he hears a cheer go up nearby, his name being shouted for, and then talk about Spin the Bottle.

Apparently, he's still got that reputation from the couple of people he'd made out with, a few times by the bleachers, in an attempt to try and recapture some of that old magic, but he'd come out of those feeling pretty empty. He settles into the circle, shrugging because, why not? What's the worst that could happen?

And then, he looks across the circle and smirks. "Caleb," he greets, raising his brows with a waggle.