Gunnar: I’ll be fifteen in August, bro.
Me: Oh my bad Mr. Adult. You can’t even legally vote you dumb fuck.
Gunnar: And it’s Mom and Dad’s job to look after me. Which, clearly, they failed since I’m here and they’re in the Bahamas. Just let it go.
Let it go.
I know it’s not the responsible thing, considering he’s not even old enough to get a fucking driver’s license and this is New York and it’s the dead of night, but I’m kind of in the middle of a crisis and he’s been in situations like this more times than I can count…so I do.
I let it go.
My phone pings with a text.
Gary: Julia is home safe.
I breathe a sigh of relief. And I go back to my milk and existential crisis and dreams of a simpler time.
You know, before I realized I’m head-over-heels, eat-shit-and-smile, I-am-so-totally-fucked in love with my best friend.
Saturday, June 7th
Julia
Summertime, wealth, and the freedom of a weekend when you’re a college student is a dangerous combo.
It’s pushing noon by the time I finally drag myself out of bed, last night’s makeup smudged and blond curls a mess. I’m still a little groggy from staying out way too late dancing at Groove, but I’m ready to see what today’s entertainment will hold.
I know not everyone lives like this—I’m truly not that self-absorbed—but I’d be a fool not to enjoy it while I can. Dickson University won’t last forever, and according to my parents, the “real world” comes at you fast. Like, horrifyingly fast. With taxes and meetings and a Roth IRA.
I’ll have plenty of time to be steady, reliable, and respectable—boring—later. For now, I’m young, alive, fairly responsible, and excelling in my only obligations of good grades, good vibes, being kind, and hanging out with my friends.
My dad owns Brooks Media, one of the biggest tech strongholds and in-house marketing firms in the world. His dating app,TapNext, basically invented online romance, and now he’s worth literalbillions.
Sometimes I forget we’re rich. Like…obscenely, what-even-is-money rich. But that’s probably because my dad’s idea of luxury is a well-seasoned grill and his favorite hoodie from college. I’m incredibly privileged, but I’m privileged in a Ford, you know?
We don’t own a yacht. We don’t summer in Monaco, and ouryearly holidays revolve around my parents forcing my younger sister Evie and me on trips to our cabin in the Catskills. It’s the opposite of what you’d think a billionaire would do with his money. But that’s my dad, Mr. Humility.
However, the fact that my dad’s wealth could have us sitting on our own superyacht in the South of France is freaking insane when I let myself really think about it.
Once I’m awake enough to focus, I do what I always do first thing in the morning—grab my phone and text Ace.
Our families are practically fused at this point. Our parents fell in love around the same time, built their empires of wealth at the same time, and popped out kids who were apparently soul-bound from birth. Ace and I grew up together. We’ve been best friends since before we knew what friendship was. Since before we had teeth.
Me: Gooood morning! Where did you go last night? Gary said you sent him back for me but didn’t say why you ghosted.
When he doesn’t answer almost a minute later, I send another.
I’m not afraid to be myself with Ace. I can be demanding and demon-text, and I don’t have to choose my words carefully. We’ve known each other since before we could toddle—before we could think—and I know he’d never judge me for something so stupid. He mightfakejudge me, for the sake of a joke or running commentary, but he’d never do it for real. He’s the most open-minded, kindhearted guy in the world. It’s not just forced proximity that makes him my best friend—he earns the title too.
Me: Helloooooo. Earth to Ace! Time to wake up, sweetie pie! Rise and shineeeeee. You know I’m going to keep texting until you answer, so you might as well just roll over now.
Me: No, don’t be rude and smack me off the nightstand. Just answer me and I’ll stop pinging you!
Me: Ow, buddy! That hurt. Am I damaged? Do you need to take me to the phone store?
An answering message finally vibrates in my hands, and I celebrate, throwing my arms up over my head and doing a little dance before pulling them back down to read it.
Ace: You think you know me huh? I’ll have you know I’m well-rested Up conquering the day
