College Kids And Champagne

Burgers And Rodeos

Nikki’s POV

I learned a few key things on my first night at college. One, it is perfectly acceptable, and even encouraged, to drink on a Sunday night. Two, having a nine o’clock class the next morning is no excuse not to drink. And three, Fireball tastes like Christmas and lighter fluid.

I had to imagine it tasted worse coming back up so, although I felt acutely nauseous, I forced my stomach to behave that next morning. Aside from that though, I was remarkably functional. It was 8:45 and I’d been up until three A.M. taking shots, but I felt fine. Turns out my eighteen year old body can really bounce back.

I’d never known. I never drank back in high school. I was too busy working two jobs and maintaining a 4.0. But college was different. In less than twenty four hours I’d learned that lesson.

“How are you feeling?” came a voice from above. Trix, laying on her stomach across the top bunk. Her short blonde hair was ruffled up around her head, creating a pale mane. She wore cotton pajama shorts and a sports bra.

“Pretty good actually,” I replied. Though Trix was holistically intimidating, I’d already gotten attached to her in our short time together. We’d gone to the activities fair together, where we met up with Henry and his roommate Sam. The four of us had gone party hopping after that. Trix and I had gone shot for shot, Henry had hooked up with a guy on the water polo team, and Sam had ended up puking in a bush on our way back to Hendrick.

It had been an eventful night. I’d gotten a sudden taste of freedom and youth and it had been intoxicating. Suddenly I understood Jacen’s infatuation with partying. I couldn’t wait to call him and tell him about last night. He’d be so proud of me.

“What class do you have?” Trix wondered, yawning widely. It really enhanced the whole lion look she had going on.

“Creative Writing. Shouldn’t be too bad.” That was an understatement of course. I was absolutely psyched for that class.

“Nah. It’s Syllabus Week - all you really gotta do is show up,” Trix explained to me.

“I think I can handle that,” I replied, throwing some empty notebooks into my backpack before slinging it over my shoulder. I grabbed my ID off my desk, putting it in the pocket of my denim shorts.

“Toss me the remote?” Trix requested, so I grabbed that too, and threw it up to her. She began absently flipping through channels. There was nothing to be concerned about volume wise - Nadia had been gone when we woke up. I didn’t know if she had a class or if she was just an early riser.

She wasn’t much of a talker, and obviously she hadn’t come out with us last night. As a Muslim drinking and other such debauchery was strictly off limits. Which in all honesty, kind of sucked. My first night at college had taught me that drinking and debauchery were kind of necessary for a good time. After all, what other time in our lives would this sort of thing be acceptable? We couldn’t be raving when we were in our forties with kids. We had to do it now.

“Wanna meet for lunch?” I asked Trix as I slipped on my flip flops. Trix was brash and a little rough - at one point last night she nearly punched somebody for cutting her in line at the keg - but I liked her. I couldn’t quite say why.

“Sure. I’ll find you,” she said absently. I figured that was code for text me or something, so I left, satisfied that I’d found new friends. Trix liked me, despite that she had gotten everybody to call me the Duchess of Pennsylvania (because apparently not drinking the jungle juice made me a priss), and Henry and Sam were awesome. It seemed things were off to a good start here.

Of course, I still had to make it to class on time. It took a bit of jogging, and a tiny bit of elbowing, but ten minutes proved to be sufficient enough time. I made it in the door right after the professor. The room was a lecture hall, but a rather small one by UCLA standards. I quickly picked a random seat in the third row.