Brooke touched a finger to her cheeks, running along the contour line.
“I’d never be able to recreate this look. Ever.” Then she took out her cell phone and snapped a few selfies.
“I can,” I said from behind her. “I’ll help you anytime you want.”
“Thanks, Jess.”
Several bars were lined up only a few blocks away from our apartment, so the decision to walk there was easy. But that didn’t stop Rachel from complaining the entire time about the weather (too chilly) and her shoes (hurt already).
I gave her an exasperated look. “No one told you to wear four-inch heels. It’s a college bar, Rachel.”
She stuck out her tongue. “Don’t make fun of the fact that I like to look gorgeous at all times.”
She did look gorgeous, but the shoes were ridiculous.
I glanced at the time on my cell phone once more, noting that it was almost four. All the air in my lungs expelled as if I’d been punched in the stomach, and I stopped walking, bending over at the waist to catch my breath. Squeezing my eyes closed, I demanded the tears not fall.
I will not fall apart. I will not fall apart.
Both girls were at my side in an instant. “You okay?” Rachel asked, and I nodded.
“Come on. Let’s get you drunk!”
The fact that those words came out of Brooke’s mouth and not Rachel’s had me standing up and putting one foot in front of the other instantly.
“You can do this. We’re right here with you,” Rachel reassured me as we walked arm in arm.
“Yeah. And Nick’s the stupidest guy I’ve never met. I may not really know him, but I hate him anyway,” Brooke said.
Glancing at her, I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. The girl was comedic gold today.
Our first stop was at the biggest and rowdiest bar on the row. Even though it was still early, plenty of people were already there.
Brooke and Rachel were both already twenty-one, but I still needed to use the fake ID Nick had gotten for me. This would only be my third time. Nerves shot through me as we approached the beefy security guard manning the door, even though I knew I had no reason to be nervous. The picture on the ID was me, even if the name wasn’t, but this would only be my third time using it.
When we got in easily, I glanced at Rachel, my eyes wide like it had been a close call, and she laughed.
“That’s literally the best fake I’ve ever seen. Stop stressing.”
“Nick got it for you, right?” Brooke asked, even though I’d told her that the other time we’d gone out together.
“Yeah.”
She cocked her head, giving me a serious look. “At least he was good for something.”
“I think you’re responsible for this,” I said to Rachel, jerking my chin toward Brooke. “All that makeup and hair has given her sass.”
The three of us headed straight to the round bar in the center of the room and sat down on the stools. When the bartender asked us what we wanted, I felt like a complete rookie, having no idea what the hell to order.
I couldn’t ask for a No Bad Days because I didn’t even know if it was a real drink, or what was in it. So I grumbled, “I need to get drunk quick. So probably a shot.”
“What kind of shot,” he asked, already irritated by my indecision.
“Just give us three kamikaze shots, please,” Rachel said, and the bartender turned his back.
Brooke frowned. “He’s not very nice.”
“I think I made him mad.”
“So sue us for not knowing what we want to drink. I’m so sorry we aren’t professional alcoholics,” Brooke spat out, and I couldn’t help but laugh at her.
“You’re killing me tonight,” I told her as the bright drinks appeared in front of us.
“Are we making a toast?” Rachel asked as she picked up her drink.
I grimaced. “To forgetting? To moving on? To assholes?”
“Or how about to good friends. They’re much better than guys nine times out of ten,” Brooke said.
We toasted each other, clinking our glasses together before downing the sweet drink.
“That’s not gonna do,” I admitted. “I definitely need something stronger.
Drinking It All Away
Jess
One straight shot of vodka turned into two, and my head already felt fuzzy. Why people drank this stuff straight was beyond me, but here I was, doing the same damned thing.
“I think I need some cranberry juice in the next one. I can’t just drink this shit straight. It’s awful,” I admitted as I sneaked a glance at the time on my phone.
It was well past five now.
“Let’s pace ourselves, or we’ll be carrying you home in an hour. And I did not drive all the way up here to be in bed by six o’clock, Jess Michaelson,” Rachel demanded.
“You’re right. I don’t want to be in bed by six either. Six is for losers. Losers who are getting married right now. Or who are already married, probably dancing at their stupid reception or cutting a stupid cake,” I babbled as a hiccup tore through me, hurting my chest. “Ow.”
“Can I get a water, please?” Brooke asked the bartender, her sass level down a notch. Apparently normal Brooke was back in full effect.
At some point, I stopped keeping track of the time and counting how many drinks I’d poured down my throat. The world was soft and I felt good, happy even. I looked at my two girlfriends as we bopped around on the makeshift dance floor.