Confessions of a Twenty-Something City Girl

Don't Cry on Your Birthday

Kingston's POV

I should've known better than to make that bet.

It's nearly dusk at my house, the unofficial headquarters for Orange County's twenty-something chaos, and my poor decision-making is about to bite me. The music is blasting, the air smells like craft beer, and I'm standing at the edge of a beer-pong table, holding a tiny white ball that might as well be my future.

Across from me, the other team grins mischievously, tapping the table in rhythm, each beat aimed at shaking my focus. Why? Because if I miss this shot, I'm handing over my birthday presents—expensive birthday presents— and giving them full control of my social media for the night.

"Focus, King!" Olivia, my best friend and teammate says from beside me, her energy somewhere between a cheerleader and a hostage negotiator. Her hands clap together repeatedly, urging me to focus. "We can't lose to them!"

The bass from Vivrant Thing by Q-Tip vibrates through the air, and suddenly, I'm convinced: this is my moment. My palms are clammy with sweat, and the tiny white ping-pong ball slips between my fingers as I focus on the red Solo cup at the end of the table. I can do this. I have to.

The crowd around the table is holding their breath—everyone's eyes are locked on me. And sure, the spotlight's burning a hole through me, but I'm not about to let them see it. Not today. Today, I'm cool. Calm. Collected.

Or at least that's what I want them to think.

I take a deep breath, step back, and lock my focus on the last red cup across the table, glowing under the neon lights. A smirk pulls at the corner of my lips—I know exactly what's about to happen. I tilt my head just enough to make it dramatic, then, over the music, I shout, "Kobe!"

The ball leaves my fingers and arcs perfectly through the air. I'm just watching it, waiting for the universe to deliver.

Swish.

The ball drops in with a satisfying splash, spilling beer over the sides in victory. There's silence for just a breath, and then...chaos. The room erupts in cheers, high-fives, and shouts. Someone slaps me on the back, but I barely feel it. It's the adrenaline. The rush. That sweet, electric feeling that's all too familiar, yet has slipped away from me for the last six months.

I throw my hands up in the air, but it's not just about winning. In this moment, it feels like I've found something I thought I'd lost forever. The crowd is still celebrating, but all I can feel is this thrill—Alive. Untouchable. Like I could conquer the world.

It's been ages since I felt this way—since I wasn't just fading into the background, like some version of myself on autopilot.

But right now? Right now, I'm back.

"Drink up, boys!" I glance at my opponents, Brandon and Evan, across the table, raising an eyebrow. "Brandon, I thought you and Justin played basketball together in high school?"

Brandon laughs, "Hey, not all of us had the luxury of winning a state championship our senior year!" He clutches the final red Solo cup, ready to chug the last of his beer. I can't help but smile at the memory of taking home the gold.

I watch Brandon throw back his drink. At 6'1", he's hard to miss. My eyes scan the room—no sign of Justin. We've been together since college, but we first crossed paths when I was a freshman and he was a senior in high school. It started as one of those light, innocent flirtations, the kind you'd expect in a teen movie. But it wasn't until years later, after we'd both left high school behind, that we finally gave in to the chemistry that had always been there.