Vigilant | N.H.

Six.

New Year's Eve, 2015.

For Christmas, Delaney and I stayed at home and watched Christmas movies. I cooked a small holiday meal for the both of us consisting of our favorite foods that remind us of home. The past few days have gone pretty slow, which allowed us to get established in our new place. Today is New Year's Eve, which to us, is the one of the best days of the year to party. Delaney somehow managed to get us invited to an exclusive night club, 312, for a New Year's Eve party. We've barely lived here for a week and the girls already got connections.

Gotta love it.

I roll out of bed and begin to cleanse myself in the shower. I shuffle "1989" by Taylor Swift and begin to scream the lyrics to Wildest Dreams, which is a personal favorite of mine. I soap up my body and hair and then finish off by shaving my legs. The hot water pelts against my back, leaving my skin hot and red— I practically scald my body every time.

I step out of the shower and wrap myself in a clean, white towel and apply my moisturizer all over my body. After blow-drying my hair, I begin my makeup. I keep my face fairly natural, only applying a bit of concealer, some translucent powder, blush, and highlighter. For my eyes, I put on a fun, shimmery gold eyeshadow pigment that compliments my caramel brown eyes. To finish off my makeup, I apply clear lipgloss with little hints of gold glitter that ties together the look. I throw in some loose curls and walk out of the bathroom where Delaney is standing, holding my dress for me to put on. I quickly slip into it and admire myself in the mirror.

I look hot, as always.

Shortly after me, Delaney starts to get ready—tonight, she's wearing a lilac, shimmery bodycon dress, similar to mine. Purple looks really good against her pale skin and bleach blonde hair.

We take a few quick photos for social media and order an Uber since we'll both be drunk as hell tonight.

"Let's fucking party bitch!" she enthusiastically yells out.

"Hell yeah!"

I can tell that tonight will be a night to remember, even if I can't due to all of the alcohol I'm about to consume.

As soon as we arrive, I can smell the strong scent of alcohol mixed with cigarette smoke. The club is luxurious; its exterior consists of sleek black walls, with minimum windows and bright cool-tone light fixtures. Inside, there are black leather couches everywhere, along with clear, glass tables decorated with cigarette trays and glasses full of booze.

The bar is calling my name— there are definitely at least 200 different bottles behind the counter.

"2 shots of tequila, please" I order for us. The bartender swiftly pours them and places the glasses in front of us.

"To 2016–a year full of friendship, love, alcohol, new memories, and a fresh start," Delaney says, holding up her shot glass as she proposes a toast.

"To 2016, the best, and undoubtedly, the wildest year yet to come." Our shot glasses clink and sooner than later, the alcohol is gone.

We order about four more rounds before deciding to hit the dance floor. I'm not one to brag, but we've got some serious moves.

It's only 9 o'clock and we're already hammered.

"Let's go make some friends," I say as I begin to tug her away from the dance floor.