The Hookup Dairies: Dare You to Fall

Just Curious

They say only the good girls keep diaries, the bad girls never have the time. In my experience at Eiden High, that's not exactly true. Girls are just... girls. We bitch and backstab, cry and cat fight. And the girls at Eiden High? Well we write it all down.

It started sometime in the 60's when instead of putting her diary in the time capsule every senior class has made since Eiden's founding, a student gave her journal to one of that year's freshmen. In the hopes that maybe, just maybe she'd save them from making a few mistakes.

The tradition grew from there, leaving behind a long line of the "original" ten diaries passed down by the first freshman and her group of friends.

My best friend Marlee and I swerentssked to carry on two of those original lines, known as legacies, and to be honest, I didn't find anything worthy of writing down until lately. Midway through my junior year of high school you'd think I'd have something noteworthy but didn't, at least not until recently.

Harlee Walker, varsity defense captain of the Eiden High soccer team, lead singer of that one band every high school seems to have, twin sister of my best friend, current resident of the Manhattan sized 3rd floor walk up reserved for pointless crushes to live rent free in my currently otherwise basically vacant head.

If I'm being completely honest, I don't know when these thoughts about her started. They creeped in slowly, overtaking my every waking thought until my only option was... to apparently get excessively drunk.

I never thought I'd like girls and I'm still not sure that I do. I just... I like this girl. This insanely beautiful, completely off limits, girl. Maybe that's it. That she's supposedly the one person I'm not allowed to go for. I don't know, but if I don't get a handle on this curiosity for her soon, it's definitely going to ruin my junior year.

Maybe that's why I did it. Dawning a dress my parents for sure wouldn't approve of and downing most of a fifth of vodka the party was the perfect opportunity for me to get Harlee out of my system.

I moved through the party on auto pilot, passing couples in corners, and drunk idiots trying to dance. Marlee pulled me into them, wrapping her arms around my neck as she laughed in my ear. "Stop moping and dance with me."

Rolling my eyes I did as she said before her boyfriend Josh came back with two drinks, handing me one as he disappeared again to refill his own.

"We need to find you someone." Marlee said in my ear again. "You've been single for like a year."

"I like being single," I told her. "You know that."

Marlee shook her head. "You used to like being single. Now you're mopey."

"I'm not mopey." I argued as she giggled in my ear again and lifted my cup to my lips.

"You're mopey and you need to drink more. Drunk Whitney knows how to have fun and be honest."

After another eye roll I did as she said, spending at least an hour on the dance floor with her before feeling like I needed to get away.  As I walked through the upstairs landing, slightly wobbly, vision a little off kilter, Harlee was leaning against a wall, drink in hand, smirking at some girl in a crop top.

Maybe it was the jealousy, probably the vodka but either way I stumbled my way to them, took Harlee by the wrist and led her into one of the bedrooms.

"You okay, Whitney?" She asked, and god even with concern laced in her voice it was still hot.

Before I could even realize what I was doing my lips were on hers, and it felt like my worlds were colliding.

Pushing me away gently and cupping my cheek, Harlee whispered, "You're drunk, angel."