Hoax in One

| 27 |

I won't be able to sleep until I know you got home okay.

I giggled and swayed, placing my hand on the slick acrylic bar to steady myself.

Did you even try to go sleep? I texted Tate back.

Yes, it's useless.

Then can I spend the night?

If he was going to stay up, then I could choose his place.

Of course. Text me when you're ready, and I'll come pick y'all up.

"You need another drink?"

I looked up into a tall handsome face with blond bangs hanging down over his eyebrows.

"No thank you," I smiled. "I can get my own drinks."

He nodded at me politely and turned back to his friend.

I motioned to the bartender. "Jonathan! Shots! Fruity, girly ones! Please! Oh, three of them!"

Jonathan chuckled at me as he made me three shots of something new. He didn't need to be told that I wanted three or that I wanted ridiculous sugary ones. He'd been supplying us with fun exotic shots all night.

I sounded way too loud, even to myself, but this was one of the best girls' nights I'd had in a while.

I cupped my hand over my mouth and mumbled, "Sorry," through my fingers.

He laughed and put my shots on the bar. "Melon Balls."

I smiled appreciatively at the green liquid. We'd already had Bubblegum Shooters, Strawberry Shortcakes, Pineapple Upside Downs, and a few others I couldn't remember.

The Tuesday night crowd was thinner than normal, so Alice, Millie, and I had open space to dance and the DJ was even appeasing the requests we'd yell at him.

"Rihanna!" Millie screamed when I made my way back to them.

We were those annoying girls, but sometimes it really is just so fun. We didn't care who was judging us.

We took our shots on the dance floor before the DJ blasted Where Have You Been, and we went crazy.

We were grinding on each other, twirling around, smushing ourselves into a sandwich like stereotypical drunk college girls.

This felt like the year before with my best friends—the three of us happy in our element. And it made it even sweeter that we were all happy in our romantic lives. A rare occurrence all together.

Alice and Bradley were officially together, and Millie was... you know.

We pushed away every boy who tried to get near us, and we danced for hours under the flashing lights and the buzz from the speakers.

I texted Tate a little before 1 a.m.: We don't want to leave, but we have to leave.

Yeah, Wednesdays really get in the way of fun. Be there in twenty, he replied.

Twenty-five minutes later we forced ourselves off the dance floor to wait for Tate outside.

Blond Bangs and his friends followed us out.
"I didn't get your name," he said behind me.

I spun around, unsteady on my feet. "Devin."

He smiled. It was sort of sweet; a smooth and harmless smile. "I'm Peyton. Do you go to SFU?"

"Yeah," I replied nicely, but when he put his arm around me, I removed it.

"Maybe I'll see you around campus," he said hopefully. "Maybe I could get your number, and we can hang out this weekend."