“I don’t think that I do…” I chuckle as she narrows her eyes at me.
“Thepointis…you’re young, talented, and smart. It’s okay to live life and be free and party and…I don't know where this is going but, come with me tonight,please. This is the first party of the semester and I have a feeling it’s going to be one of the best ones,” she says, smiling with a hopeful gleam in her eyes that I can’t refuse.
She’s right… We haven’t seen each other for a while, it’d be good to let loose a little. But only a smidge, I don’t think I can ever be as open as I used to be.
“Fine…but you’re buying us more Strawberry Truffle donuts from that one place after,” I concede.
“Oh my God! Yes! Yes! Yes!” Georgia cheers, jumping for joy as she yanks me into a bone crushing hug.
She pulls away, ecstatic and beaming with life. “Now let me dress you. You can’t wear a vintage crop tweed set to a house party.”
It doesn’t take long for Georgia Adams to get her way and soon enough, I’m dressed in a baby pink satin dress with spaghetti straps that hug my curves in all the right places. The dress stopped around mid-thigh with light ruffles on a slant at the bottom, and on a normal day, I would never wear this. But since I can never say no to my best friend, I’ll wear it—just for tonight.
“This looks perfect on you! Do a spin.” She claps, green eyes gleaming as she twirls me. “I feel like there’s something missing… Oh! Your bow!” Georgia pats her head as if that was the most obvious revelation before dashing into my room across the hall.
I take a moment and breathe, looking myself over in the mirror. I haven’t worn anything like this in months. My fingers trail over the slanted ruffles and along the curves of my waist, tugging the skirt down a bit. When my eyes reachmy hair, I realize that Georgia is in fact right. I’m missing my bow. She’d done my hair in a half up half down and left a long tendril out to frame my face. I’d done my makeup myself and matched my outfit with a pair of heels, all I need now is my bow and I’ll be unstoppable.
“You have way too many pink bows… Why are there six of the same color?” Georgia asks as she reenters the room with my favorite bow in hand; I wave her off with a sigh.
“G, a girl can never have too many bows.” I laugh, mimicking her mom’s catchphrase from our childhood.
Georgia rolls her eyes at me and puts the bow in my hair, watching me through the mirror before shaking her head with a large smile.
“Where’s Sienna?” she asked, looking around the room as if shejustnoticed that the pink haired girl was nowhere to be found.
My cousin Sienna was also our roommate. She’d originally gone to NYU but transferred to the dance program at SFU during the summer semester as there were more opportunities here.
“She said something about a babysitting gig…” I shrug, turning to face Georgia fully, she nods her head in understanding.
“Babysitting? I thought she was working at the studio for the semester…”
“You know that she changes jobs out like she does her shoes, she’ll probably work at the library next week.” I break into a laugh at the thought of Sienna Jones behind the counter of a library. She’d probably fall asleep as soon as she unlocks the front doors.
Growing up with Sienna, it felt like I was living with a real-life Barbie doll. Sienna, like myself, wanted pink everything. Only, unlike myself, she decided to go for pink hair. But, like Barbie, Sienna is a jack of all trades. She babysits, sings, dances. Hell, if she put her mind to it, there’s no doubt that she’d run for president too.
Georgia and I do a quick once-over in the mirror to make sure we look exactly how we want before heading to the kitchen to pregame. Back in high school, we’d pregame under my kitchen table and would jump when we heard the slightest sound throughout the house. Our pregames back then always endedwith one of us rubbing our heads and the other dying of laughter. I make a mental note to remind Georgia of the past when she hands me a shot of a clear liquid which I presume to be tequila.
Our go-to.
“Take it to the dome,” she starts, lifting the small shot glass with a pink Las Vegas skyline printed on it, in the air.
Take it to the dome;I smile at the old saying my older cousin Zola taught us in high school. She was the very first person to slip us drinks. It was only a small miniature bottle of Patron, but I’ll never forget how much older we felt drinking with the big girls. Even though we can drink on our own now, we still credit Zola whenever we take shots.
“Or take it home!” I finish the saying, throwing back the shot with a grimace.
“Ubers outside, shall we?” Georgia sidles up to me, adjusting the straps of her dress. Her smile is bright as she looks down at me.
“We shall.”
three
Cleo
The Uber pulls upto a medium-sized gray craftsman-style house littered with students, blaring loud music. People are scattered everywhere–some on the porch, others on the lawn. Georgia squeezes my hand as if to reassure me that we’re going to be fine as we approach the front door.
I hadn’t even noticed we’d been holding hands but the small squeeze does its job and I almost instantly feel better. It’s not every day that a hot guy invites me to a party…
What if everyone thinks I’m weird?
