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“So, who are we meeting again?” I question Chandra.
We turn the corner at the end of the block where streetlamps light up the sidewalk, paving the way for college students to enter the many off-campus bars.
“Jeremy,” she replies, stuffing her hands into her coat pockets as the crisp fall night air cuts through us.
“And?” I ask, pulling the newly dyed red strands from my balm-covered lips.
“Just a few of his friends.” She peeks at me, a mischievous grin playing at the edge of her cheeks. “Including his super cute roommate, Anthony.”
“Great,” I drawl with the insinuation of impending doom.
“What? It’s not all right for Jeremy to tell me which of his friends are going to be there?”
I laugh. “Don’t pretend like I don’t know what you’re up to.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says, her voice rising to an octave of false innocence.
“Sure you don’t. You’ve only mentioned Anthony’s name to me almost daily for the last month. Stealth you are not.”
“Yoda you are not.” She bumps her shoulder against mine. “I just thought it’d be nice if we could all go out together sometime. Honest.”
“I get it, but I’m really not in the dating mood tonight. I was hoping to just get hammered.”
“Well, you can still do that,” Chandra says, stating the obvious. “And maybe meet someone at the same time?”
“We’ll see.”
Coming back to campus early was definitely for the best. The moment I walked into my apartment from my shortened New York trip, I immediately felt at home. The streets of Manhattan might be a lifelong dream for many, but for me, it’s a prison surrounded by invisible bars of expectations, false lives, and my inability to live up to any of my family’s desires.
Wanting to leave my unpleasant New York holiday behind me, I did what any girl would do. I dyed my hair. Being that it’s autumn, I opted for a seasonal shade of red to match the changing oak leaves, in hopes of shrugging off the cold still lingering from my last interaction with my mother.
“Here we are,” says Chandra, swinging open the door to a local pub that caters to college students and known for craft beers on tap.
It’s a rite of passage to vomit on the restroom floors at least once while attending the nearby university. On my twenty-first birthday, I made my pledge to this establishment’s porcelain god while Chandra held my hair.
We enter together, the heat removing some of the chill from the dropping temperature.
“I see Jeremy,” Chandra says, tilting her head toward the front corner. “This way.”
I follow her lead, joining her boyfriend and a few of his friends surrounding two tables pushed together. Unbuttoning our coats, Chandra and I take a seat along the booth as the four men rearrange their seating positions to make room for us.
“You made it,” Jeremy states, sliding his arm around my friend’s shoulder.
“Did you have doubts?” she teases him.
“None whatsoever.” He leans forward, peeking at me. “Hey, EJ. New hair?”
“Yep. Decided to go seasonal.”
“I like it.”
“Thanks.” I smile at him.
Jeremy is easy to get along with.
“How was New York?” he questions me further.
“The same as always in a reliably obnoxious way.”
