She snorts. “Loose, huh? How loose are we talking?”
Smirking, I shift to my knees. “Really fucking loose. It’s going to take a blackout kind of night to get over those three.”
Her eyes go wide. “Blackout?”
I rise to my feet and shrug. “Maybe not total blackout. But as long as you’re sure Bryant’s a trusty designated driver, I’m not going to limit myself.”
She stands, too, and swoops her braids to one shoulder. “Oh, he’s trustworthy, all right. He goes full dad mode on our asses when he’s DD.”
I move over to the mirror, assessing the damage from my unexpected sob sesh. My eyes are still puffy and red from crying, but it’s not unsalvageable. I can work with this.
“So with your desire for self-destruction in mind,” she starts, watching me in the mirror, “We need to be on the same page about limits. I’m going hard tonight, but something tells me you’re going harder.”
I smirk in confirmation.
“Do you want to be cut off at any point?” She takes a step closer. “Like, do we really trust heartbroken, inebriated Sawyer to make good decisions?”
It’s my turn to snort. I haven’t let myself label what I’m going through. The word heartbreak doesn’t even begin to describe the anguish. Every dream I allowed myself to stitch together over the last few months has been shredded into frayed ribbons of hopelessness.
I’m hollow.
Empty.
On the plus side, I don’t have anything left to lose.
I pick up my concealer and apply it to the dark circles under my eyes. “We do not trust inebriated Sawyer to make any good decisions, but that’s kind of the point.”
“Okay.” She nods once. “Just lay out the ground rules, then. I’m assuming you want us to bring you back to Holt at the end of the night?”
I use my ring finger to blend the concealer, although the exercise is in vain. Nothing can truly cover the swollen, tender, dark skin that’s developed over the last few weeks. “Not necessarily.” I straighten and pick up the mascara. “My phone is fully charged. I’ve got condoms. If I tell you I want to go home with someone or stay longer, just leave me.”
Her eyes go wide, but she doesn’t push back. When her phone buzzes and she tells me that Bryant is just a few minutes out, I check my bag, my fit, and my roadie. I’m ready to see where this night takes me.
“Wait!” I say, digging into my bag again. “I bought matching glitter freckles for us!”
“The guys just pulled in,” she says, focused on her phone.
“Tell them we need three more minutes.”
I may not have any more of my own natural sparkle, but there’s always time for glitter freckles.
I grab a damp cloth and dutifully apply the temporary tattoos to her cheeks and nose and then mine. Then we take a few selfies, grab our stuff, and head out the door.
“So when you said this was a big party…” I can’t help but gawk at the scene before me. The house is massive—or maybe it’s not a house. Maybe it’s a full apartment complex?
Trap music is already vibrating in my bones and we’re still a few driveways away. Warmth spreads through me, the promise of loud music and dancing in a crowd lighting up all the happy places in my brain.
This is good. This is exactly what I need.
“They don’t call it A-K-Rowdy for nothing, Sawy.” Bryant slings an arm over my shoulders and then snakes the other around Cam.
Shrugging him off and issuing a pointed glare to the guy she’s most definitely not dating (according to her), Cam confirms. “It’s the biggest party of the year. People come in from all over. I’ve been coming since I was a freshman.”
That stirs something in my consciousness. “Makes sense. There’s a chance one of my old friends will be here, actually.”
“Old, as in significantly older than you?” Cam teases with a wag of her brows.
“No,” I correct. “Old, as in she was a friend when I attended CEGEP and university.”
