Adrian takes this moment to shrug out of Ronnie’s arm. “I need another drink.” He stalks off without another glance back. Odd, he hardly ever drinks to begin with but he must benervousabout this undisclosed girl.
Ronnie and I share a glance and he shrugs. “He’s your roommate, Ryder,” he reminds me—not that I need it—before releasing me from his grasp and walking away in the opposite direction.
Here I am, left alone while everyone else continues to party. Maybe I’ve outgrown the party scene. Ditching the drink on an island, I reach for an open cooler and grab a soda can. I’m not even slightly buzzed but it’s the taste of beer that I need to wash away.
“Carrrrsssssonnnn,” my sister slurs, wrapping one arm around my back. “I lost my ring,” she wails.
And my sister, the lightweight that she is, is already drunk.Oh, someone please help me.
“Wait,” I say, prying my sister off of me and standing the both of us upright. “You lost the ring?”
She nods, a single tear slipping down her cheek. “I can’t find it anywhere!”
Great. Carly and I both have Irish Claddagh rings that were gifted to us back when we graduated high school from our late grandmother. I never lost mine but Carly has a habit of misplacing everything she touches. It’s not her fault, usually.
“Where did you last see it?” I ask her slowly, enunciating each word because I’ve been around a drunk Carly before—and it’s not easy.
“It was on my hand for one minute,” she tells me. “And in the next, it’s gone. I don’t see it anywhere.”
Observing the groups, I take a look around. Carly’s ring is small so it won’t be easy to spot it from a distance.
“What do I do?” She cries. That ring is important to my sister so I can understand how upset she is. The Claddagh ring holds a lot of sentimental value to her.
“Car,” I repeat over and over again to calm her down. “We’re going to find it, don’t you worry. We just need to keep looking.”
Wherever that fucking ring may be.
9
Weirdest Night Yet
Diana
This party is so not worth a Saturday night in my best party dress.
Or, outfit, in this case. Just a red top that I think might be too tight on me paired with some shorts and sneakers. After telling Lucia that I chose to attend, she got so excited and started rummaging through her closet for something I could wear. When we finally decided on this, she said—a direct quote, mind you—“Aphrodite who?” While touching up my lipstick.
When the rest of us walked into the house where the party is held, I understood why Madi didn’t go to a lot of the parties. This is the kind of party where you’d have to be extremely drunk to have fun. Dionysus would disapprove.
Maybe sticking to Madi is a good idea.
I nudge her shoulder. “Do you want to do anything?”
Her amber eyes move around the entrance area, to the living room, and the little entranceway that I’m pretty sure leads to the kitchen—this is a big house—until her eyes land on a tall figure leaning against a wall, nursing a water bottle.
How cliche can college get? I could turn this whole scenario into a college romance novel and make billions off of it—and I don’t even read romance.
“What about table tennis?” Madi takes my hand and guides me outside to the big ping-pong table.
After bumping into multiple tipsy college students, we finally make it out alive. I go to the opposite side of the table, grab the paddle and ball in front of me, and hold it out. “You ready to lose, Mads?”
She narrows her eyes in a challenging manner. “What makes you think you’re gonna win, Diana?”
I make the first serve and she reciprocates by hitting the white ping pong ball with a smack. Maybe this party could be fun, as long as there’s table tennis. We go at it for a while, until I miss the ball and it goes bouncing on the table and practically flies away.
“Point for me,” Madi says with a smile on her face.
“Well played,” I acknowledge because I refuse to act like a sore loser.
