concoction into a glass. “Here, take a drink.”
It was obvious Lily wasn’t going to spell it out for me. But I had a feeling she’d been hanging out with Carlos before tonight. I had hoped she’d move on now that we’d graduated, but I guess I was wrong. She’d been crushing on him for far too long to give up now.
I hesitated, sniffing at the drink. It smelled like grape, but also like alcohol, reminding me of that awful cough syrup my mom forced down my throat when I was little.
“Come on, live a little,” Lil urged, already chugging down half a cup of the grape-flavored hangover-in-waiting.
Glancing around the party, taking in the chaos around me, I knew the only way I’d get through the night was if I joined the fun. So, I took a deep breath and braced myself for the worst. Then I slugged down a big gulp.
“Ugh!” My face twisted in disgust.
“Sorry if it’s too strong. I’m an amateur bartender.”
It was definitely too strong, but maybe strong was what I needed tonight. I shuddered, and forced another swallow down. And another, and another. I set down the empty cup proudly, and Lil filled it to the brim again with a grin.
I rolled my eyes, but took it with me as we made our way out of the kitchen.
Samantha grabbed my arm as I passed.
“Dance, girl!” she yelled, shimmying her hips while holding a cup in her left hand and a handful of Alex Combs’ shirt in the other.
I laughed, shaking my head, and plowed through the crowd of loud couples and obnoxious boys playing drinking games, shouting over the music, and shoving each other like a bunch of kids on the playground. I’d need a whole lot more to drink before joining that unruly mass.
“Party pooper!” she shouted after me.
Samantha never did understand people who didn’t want to live loud. She was the life of the party, but that would never be me.
Lily steered me into a group of rowdy graduates that included Carlos, and I hovered at the edges, sipping at my drink and attempting to follow the drunken stories.
“And then she was all, the prom is a special night! And she started crying right in the middle of the dance floor!”
Laughter broke out, though I couldn’t figure out what was funny, having missed most of the story and suspecting I wouldn’t find it funny even if I hadn’t. Just as I raised my cup for another drink, I realized it was empty.
“Here, take mine,” Lily said, shoving her cup at me, even as she turned for the kitchen. “I’m going to grab a beer for Carlos, so I’ll just make another.”
She disappeared into the crowd, and I drifted away from the group, searching out a little breathing room.
Finally, I spotted the staircase and blessed open space not filled with drunken teenagers. I climbed the stairs, taking a seat at the top where I could watch over the party while not smothering in it.
By then, I had made it to my third cup of fruity-flavored alcohol, and was feeling rather disconnected from everything. As I sat, the room below spun slowly, and I leaned against the wall for support.
NICK
Graduation is the launching pad to the rest of your lives …
Bass vibrated through the room, undaunted by the wooden door, and rattled the desk. I groaned and tapped the delete key.
Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete.
“You suck,” I muttered, glaring at the screen, which was once again blank.
The curser blinked, as if daring me to come up with something better. I’d been working for two hours — or at least searching for inspiration that long. But after reading, surfing the web and racking my brain, I was no closer to the perfect column topic.
And I was distracted.
A yell went up downstairs. “Body shots!”
It was followed by catcalls, whistles and drunken laughter.
Trying to work in the middle of a party wasn’t the best idea I’d ever had.
Doing my best to block out the noise, I reflected on potential column topics. The art walks piece I’d originally planned sounded like fluff. No way to
It was obvious Lily wasn’t going to spell it out for me. But I had a feeling she’d been hanging out with Carlos before tonight. I had hoped she’d move on now that we’d graduated, but I guess I was wrong. She’d been crushing on him for far too long to give up now.
I hesitated, sniffing at the drink. It smelled like grape, but also like alcohol, reminding me of that awful cough syrup my mom forced down my throat when I was little.
“Come on, live a little,” Lil urged, already chugging down half a cup of the grape-flavored hangover-in-waiting.
Glancing around the party, taking in the chaos around me, I knew the only way I’d get through the night was if I joined the fun. So, I took a deep breath and braced myself for the worst. Then I slugged down a big gulp.
“Ugh!” My face twisted in disgust.
“Sorry if it’s too strong. I’m an amateur bartender.”
It was definitely too strong, but maybe strong was what I needed tonight. I shuddered, and forced another swallow down. And another, and another. I set down the empty cup proudly, and Lil filled it to the brim again with a grin.
I rolled my eyes, but took it with me as we made our way out of the kitchen.
Samantha grabbed my arm as I passed.
“Dance, girl!” she yelled, shimmying her hips while holding a cup in her left hand and a handful of Alex Combs’ shirt in the other.
I laughed, shaking my head, and plowed through the crowd of loud couples and obnoxious boys playing drinking games, shouting over the music, and shoving each other like a bunch of kids on the playground. I’d need a whole lot more to drink before joining that unruly mass.
“Party pooper!” she shouted after me.
Samantha never did understand people who didn’t want to live loud. She was the life of the party, but that would never be me.
Lily steered me into a group of rowdy graduates that included Carlos, and I hovered at the edges, sipping at my drink and attempting to follow the drunken stories.
“And then she was all, the prom is a special night! And she started crying right in the middle of the dance floor!”
Laughter broke out, though I couldn’t figure out what was funny, having missed most of the story and suspecting I wouldn’t find it funny even if I hadn’t. Just as I raised my cup for another drink, I realized it was empty.
“Here, take mine,” Lily said, shoving her cup at me, even as she turned for the kitchen. “I’m going to grab a beer for Carlos, so I’ll just make another.”
She disappeared into the crowd, and I drifted away from the group, searching out a little breathing room.
Finally, I spotted the staircase and blessed open space not filled with drunken teenagers. I climbed the stairs, taking a seat at the top where I could watch over the party while not smothering in it.
By then, I had made it to my third cup of fruity-flavored alcohol, and was feeling rather disconnected from everything. As I sat, the room below spun slowly, and I leaned against the wall for support.
NICK
Graduation is the launching pad to the rest of your lives …
Bass vibrated through the room, undaunted by the wooden door, and rattled the desk. I groaned and tapped the delete key.
Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete.
“You suck,” I muttered, glaring at the screen, which was once again blank.
The curser blinked, as if daring me to come up with something better. I’d been working for two hours — or at least searching for inspiration that long. But after reading, surfing the web and racking my brain, I was no closer to the perfect column topic.
And I was distracted.
A yell went up downstairs. “Body shots!”
It was followed by catcalls, whistles and drunken laughter.
Trying to work in the middle of a party wasn’t the best idea I’d ever had.
Doing my best to block out the noise, I reflected on potential column topics. The art walks piece I’d originally planned sounded like fluff. No way to
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