Roll the Dice

fifteen. if i were a bell

[Dedicated to Yas, who is not only a lovely friend and fellow writer but also the princess of poetry and words. I'm always astounded by how wise and calm she is regarding any situations, and she is honestly one of my inspirations to continue writing here.]

"Do you even think we're old enough to be at a tiki bar?" I wondered out loud as I sipped on my Shirley Temple, leaning my chin against my fist. "Seriously. And please don't tell me that you've got us fake IDs. It's unethical."

Cara wagged a finger at me as she slurped her drink (probably alcoholic, but she refused to tell me exactly what it was – how was I supposed to tell what was in a "bahama mama"?). "Don't pull up ethics to stuff in my face, Lottie. I mean, I've suffered through a week at my internship, and you're going to stop me from enjoying myself."

"Don't even worry," said Dacey, who waved a hand dismissively at her. "She's been uptight. And I swear, she's been singing some stupid song from that musical for the last week too, so it's a good thing that you've missed it all."

I gasped dramatically, putting a hand over my heart. "Don't be a butt," I said to Cara, who rolled her eyes at me. To Cara, I added, "And it's not a stupid musical." I was on the verge of standing up and pacing around the two of them, but then, a recollection of what happened the last time I went on a rage about Guys and Dolls came into my head. My face still hurt from the fall, in fact.

"Oh God," Cara groaned to the side, covering her forehead with a hand. "You got her started on the subject."

I couldn't help but smile when I heard her. But then, I continued with a lot more heat, "It's fucking Guys and Dolls. And the song is not stupid. It's 'If I Were a Bell'!" I turned to Cara, even though she'd completely dismissed me, for some support, widening my eyes. "Seriously! Don't you find it catchy?"

"You'd think that she'd get tired of the thing after years of replaying it," Cara drawled to Dacey. That was kind of stupid because I was sitting right in between them. Dacey shrugged. Cara sighed a little too loudly. "For real. I think I can tell you exactly where Nathan Detroit was born if I really, really tried."

I held up a finger. "Actually, we're never told where Nathan is born, but he has, like, this tough accent from the Bronx." I frowned a little, tilting my head to the side. "Actually, I don't know if we're ever told that at all. But I did read something mentioning that when I was learning about Frank Sinatra when he was playing the role."

Dacey rubbed her hands all over her face. I really hoped she wasn't wearing mascara or any makeup so she wouldn't look like a heartbroken girlfriend who'd been crying her heart out ever since her boyfriend left her for a truck or something. Well, maybe except for the fact that she hadn't even gotten into a relationship in the first place. Then, after she pushed her bangs from her face, she muttered something into her hands that I couldn't hear.

I crossed my arms and stared at her expectantly.

I heard a snicker from Cara on my other side.

Why were my friends such assholes? Why was my brother, who'd given me a nice scratch on the side of my cheek from the fall, such a jerk? Why hadn't I seen Dom in the last week? Why did I miss him in an odd sort of way? Why did I care? Why was I having a teenage-year crisis at this moment as I watched Dacey go through her mental breakdown?

Life was so difficult.

"All right, look," Dacey said, nodding her head like a drunk guy who was telling a bartender about all the good things going on in his life, "I'm sorry for insulting you, okay? I don't want to turn into Dom."

I raised my eyebrows at her.

Dacey shook her head quickly, her eyes wide open. "No, I do not want to compare myself to Dom. That's like asking you to see your own brother as attractive."