“How did we even get invited to this?” Annica asks. “I thought the twins hated you.”
I finish putting my lip gloss on and check my hair on my phone camera. “It was three years ago. I wouldn’t say theyhateme, maybe just dislike. And besides, if anyone is still going to be pissed about what happened, it should be me.”
A guy in khaki shorts and a polo stands at the double white-painted doors with his arms crossed. “Who do you know here?” he asks.
“Seriously?” Annica says, taking on her defensive stance. “What are you, like, sixteen?”
“What are you, like, thirty-five?” he says back.
“You little—”
Ty opens the door behind the boy, a red Solo cup already in hand, and smiles when she sees us. “Well, well, well, look who made it all the way to Boston. These are my friends, Cam; they can come in.”
Annica sticks her tongue out at the freshman as we walk in. Definitely not something a thirty-five-year-old would do.
It was a two-hour drive east to get to Ivy Gate University, the rival school to Pembroke that Ty attends. Ty—short for Tyler—Thompson was one of the first friends I made at Cedar Falls when we moved there ten years ago after my mom remarried. With her big blue eyes and bubbly personality, she wins everyone over.
“Are you sure Ryan is okay with me being here?” I ask Ty.
She runs a manicured hand over her slicked-back long chestnut hair before she says, “Totally! Water under the bridge.”
But I’m not entirely sure it will be. I haven’t talked to Ryan and Colton Austi since freshman year, but things did not end on friendly terms. I cross my arms to stop my hands from shaking when I think about Ryan’s eulogy in my journal. It’s not like he didn’t deserve one, but we had both wronged each other.
Past the foyer of the giant frat house, the party is in full swing. The thumping bass of the music, now ten times louder than it was outside, hits like a physical force. A kaleidoscope of lights flashes all around the room, making it look like an actual nightclub.
We enter the living room, where four long beer-pong and flip-cup tables sit in the center. A group of girls dances off to the side, under the lights, Ty’s best friend Austin Reems among them, holding a Bud Light Platinum in one hand and UV Blue in the other. He meets us by the bar to make mixed drinks, his black-rimmed glasses askew and his smile wide as he brings me in fora hug. Upon closer inspection I can tell he’s recently pierced his ears, and his shirt is one big collage of the lead singer of Panic! At The Disco.
“So I was just talking to Julie Hart, you know the one who works at the Dunkin’ Donuts on campus—” Austin starts with Ty, stealing her attention long enough for me to make my drink of soda water and lime, no vodka. “And I told her maybe she needs to stop spending so many hours at Dunkin’ and start dunkin’ her hours in boys. And that’s all I have to say aboutthat.” Austin takes a swig of the UV Blue and Ty clicks her tongue.
“How are you judging her for being single when you’re also single!”
“Omg, like, youknowI’m talking to someone. It’s getting serious.”
“Oh?” I ask. “Do tell us more.”
Ty leans over to peer into my cup and frowns at the small amount of liquid inside. “Oh, honey, no need to be sparing with the alcohol—it’s free!” She grabs a bottle of vodka, her gold jewelry clinking against the glass, and goes to pour some into my cup.
“No, that’s okay,” I say, stopping her. “I’m not trying to get too drunk.”
“What?! That’s not the Sloane I know!” She continues to pour, and this time I let her. Fine, just one strong drink to start.
There are people everywhere, and in the flashing lights you can hardly tell who is who. I start to think I may not even see the twins tonight. Ty leads us over to one of the tables where a new flip cup game is starting and declares that we’re all in. She starts to introduce us but I don’t pay attention to the names, because Ryan is also standing at the table.
He interrupts Ty and points at me. “What the hell is she doing here?”
My face goes slack and Annica’s mouth drops open.
“I invited her!” Ty says. Ryan only glares at me before walking away from the table.
I turn to her, exasperated. “I thought you said water under the bridge!”
“Maybe the bridge is still in a little need of repair?” she says sheepishly, putting a hand on my shoulder. “He didn’t say you had to leave, though. Just enjoy the party!”
I shake her off and follow Ryan to the kitchen, chugging my drink on the way there for liquid courage. I tighten my ponytail and nervously adjust my top.
“Hey,” I say when we’re both stopped by the alcohol.
“That wasn’t an invitation for you to follow,” Ryan says. “Or did you think I was Colton?” He rolls up the sleeve of his shirt before he digs around a cooler of ice for a cold beer. His black hair is cut short now, and I wonder if Colton’s is too. They both used to wear it longer, and it made them look the same. But I guess that was the point.
