Apartment 311

Ch | 82

Brooklyn Noelle Brankovich

Chapter Eighty-two: "Party foul"

"Happy Christmas!" I shouted in Noah's face when we almost collided in the hallway. He was finally done getting dressed and making sure his bags were packed and not missing anything. Meanwhile, I woke up early as Hell because I'm too excited for this trip.

"Not Christmas," he laughed.

"Oh. I mean, merry birthday!" I giggled and he kissed my head.

"Are you drinking already?" he asked me.

I nodded as I put the glass of vodka back to my lips. "Very much so." Honestly, I'd been drinking since I woke up. I just felt so good.

While I'm not super stoked I didn't get to plan another birthday party, at least Gael took care of Noah's, and I'm okay with that.
I wasn't entirely sure what he had up his sleeve but all I heard was island and I packed immediately!

I pushed Noah into the half bathroom and snapped a million and one dysfunctional pictures, posting the best ones to my Snapchat story.

Gael and Cassie both slid up right away, Gael rushing us to leave while Cassie said we're cute.

"I know he's not rushing us," I said, showing Noah Gael's reaction and he laughed. "I know Cassie isn't ready, yet." That girl's always fashionably late.

"Shit," he said, patting down the pockets of his dark grey loose shorts. I stopped recording and deleted the take.

"What'd you forget, stupid?" I rolled my eyes.

"Birthday blunts," he cackled, rushing out of the bathroom.

"Can I smoke, too?" I called out, just messing with him because I already know he'd shoot that idea down.

"No!" His voice boomed back.

I vibrated my lips and flipped through my camera roll to spam my socials with posts of our memories in the past few months.

I waited in the living room for Noah to do whatever it is he was doing, and curiously scrolled through my Instagram story views and likes. The first name I saw: William_Vanderbilt00.

I shook my head and closed my phone so I could double check my bags as well.

Noah's phone rang and I answered it only because it was Rick calling.

"Richard, darling, how the hell are ya?" I joked in the phone.

He laughed already. "Brooklyn, I didn't know I called you. What'd you do with my son?"

"You might as well call me, I'm your favorite."

"Most of the time. No, but how are you?"

"I'm good," I yawned, pacing behind the couch. "You? Where's Em?"

"She's at school. And I'm good, thanks. What are y'all doing?"

I ran my fingers through my straightened hair which was a bad idea considering I'd be in the water and wind the next few days. My stylist did a great job returning the blonde streaks in my naturally brown locs. For an island look to go with my simple outfit - denim distressed short shorts, a white ribbed baby tee, and low top white Converse with my favorite anklet - I put my two front strands in braided ponytails.