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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.
“Alcohol is my new best friend. No offense, girls.”
They laughed and asked if I was ready to go home yet. Rachel’s feet hurt, and Brooke could only take the bar scene for so long. I nodded, content with my buzz. I’d have agreed to just about anything in that moment.
We ended up staying out until nine, which didn’t sound very impressive, but when you started partying at four in the afternoon, making it until nine seemed like something you should win an award for.
“Can we order pizza when we get back?” I asked. “Say yes. Please say yes, or I might punch you.”
“When you put it that way, you leave us no choice,” Rachel said, guiding me by the arm down the street.
“I bet her dress was pretty. Do you think it was pretty? Probably custom made,” I babbled as we walked home, my thoughts returning to Nick and Carla. I swore my mind hadn’t been there just five minutes earlier, but now they were all I could think about.
