Camryn Quinn is finally getting what she wants...sort of. Moving into a dorm and away from her not so supportive father is a good first step, but like everything with him, it comes with strings. She must attend the college of his choosing for at lea...
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I squeeze my body through a large group comprised of at least seven guys fighting for the attention of approximately three girls. I've attempted to eavesdrop on the conversation from across the room. The guys may as well be circling the girls in a performance, attempting to score a mate. Meanwhile the girls have all been busy texting what I can only assume is the real male they would like to be with. This whole party is one big sausage fest doubling as a Saving Private Ryan audition. Not one single person here holds a candle to Matt Damon in his prime.
I almost gag as I slide by the last member of the group, sweat from his forearm grazing the exposed skin of my stomach. The alcohol hasn't completely killed all the nerve endings in his body because the connection forces him to turn towards me. Flashing me a smile, he mouths something, that if I could hear it over the music, would earn him a swift kick to the balls.
Instead, I mouth fuck off and push my way into the kitchen. When I finally spot Alyssa, she's got her ass planted on the countertop. An Army ranger has his hands firmly on either side of the her body and with pressed between her legs.
"Do you have a UTI or something that I should be concerned about?" I ask as I approach them. "You went to the bathroom forty minutes ago and never came back."
"Camryn! I've been looking for you! This is my friend Alex that I told you about," she says. Both statements are a lie, but her eyes are so glossed over it probably doesn't register that she is sitting down and in no shape to be looking for me.
"Guys this is my roomie Camryn. I told you she was prettyyyyy, Justin," Alyssa slurs. I assume Justin is the friend of the guy that Alyssa is now hanging on to, her arms slung around his shoulders. Justin scoots closer, giving me a once over as he leans in to say something. I hold up my hand in his face to stop him before he can even begin, "Save it for someone who cares." Justin brushes it off by acting like he was trying to walk past me to get to the trashcan doubling as a beer cooler.
I turn my attention back to Alyssa who has her head thrown back in laughter.
"I told you she was funny, too!" she yells to the ranger.
"Alyssa, I think we should go," I say, entirely too sober for this.
"Yes! We should go to the bars!" The squeal that follows her statement can probably be heard blocks away from said bars, another sign she shouldn't be any where near them.
"No. We should go home. To sleep." I mimic laying my head onto my hands, just in case her auditory function is too drunk to understand. Maybe her visual processing still works. Considering the guy she chose tonight though, probably not. I turn towards him again and add, "Alone."
"Nooooooooo! I want to go dancing at the cluuuuub. Come on, it will be fun!"
"Getting an STD from a toilet seat is not on my agenda for the night," I tut.
"Well fine, but we're going." She hops down from her seat and begins to sway. I assume she's attempting to warm up her dancing skills, but it comes off as sloppy.
I ask the ranger for his phone and make it look as if I am putting my number in it. Which I do, but only so I can share his location with me. Now I can at least keep track of Alyssa in case she loses her phone, which is highly likely at this point, or I can stalk him if something happens to her.
"Good luck," I mouth to her, or to both of them really, before moving towards the door in the kitchen that leads to the back yard. I pass two girls, one throwing up, the other holding her hair, and am once again thankful that I've had one beer and can walk out of here with my head held high.Or as high as someone can who voluntarily attends a party that could easily double as a redneck backyard barbecue on a Saturday night.
I make it out of the alley, and onto the main street before pulling out my phone.
Me: Looked cute tonight, too bad no one could see me.
I sent along a picture of myself I snapped in the bathroom back at the house.
Gabriella Brown loved an image
Gabriella Brown: I hope you're sending this from a party OR post sex with a random guy you met at the party
Do I tell Gabi that I am currently walking home to watch Real Housewives at—I check the time at the top of the screen—eleven fifty seven pm instead of going to a bar? If she weren't out herself she would call and lecture me. If she's had enough to drink she will call and lecture me anyway.
Me: The night is just starting :)
My stomach drops at the idea of lying to her. Although, she probably already knows I'm lying. I at least want to give the illusion that I am trying to, maybe, possibly, think about putting myself out there.
Gabi sends back a GIF of Will Ferrel in Elf saying You sit on a throne of lies!
I chuckle into my phone because Elf is one of our favorite movies. The first time we watched it, we made it our mission to recreate the horrible concoction of dessert spaghetti that is Buddy's specialty. We lied to my mom and told her that we were making Christmas cookies for everyone, but instead cooked two pounds of spaghetti noodles and then froze them into cookie shaped lumps.
"We have to make our own spin on it," Gabi had declared, "Nobody likes a copycat."
After freezing the lumps we covered them in a ridiculous amount of sprinkles, every type of syrup, and all of the candy we could find in both of our pantries. Not even bothering to take into consideration the level of disgusting that is to mix chocolate and fruity candy. We then served them to our family, who thought we were joking. They very quickly changed their tune when we forced them to take at least one bite.
I stare at the GIF again. If Gabi were here and not in a city that has nothing to offer besides crowded highways and country music wannabees, she would tell me that I don't have to go to a bar or party but that I can't go home. Not yet, she would urge. And then she would find some other adventure for us to go on. Her ability to turn a quick Google search into a core memory is unmatched. A vast variety of places and things like hookah bars, midnight movies, or a twenty four hour skating rink after our Senior prom.
I pause in the middle of the sidewalk, looking up from my phone to take in my surroundings, taking my own mental advice. WWGBD. What would Gabrielle Brown do in this situation?
