“Absolutely! Nofuckingguys tonight. Zero men. Nada. Niente. Just us girls, booze, and good music.” She dug through the pile like a woman on a mission before finallypulling out a dress, holding it up to me like a seamstress making final alterations. “Perfect!”
She barely even looked at me before diving back in to find her own outfit. I stood there holding the shortest dress I’d worn in a decade, just watching my little sister. I let it wash over me how she had the power to make me feel better, even if it was only a small improvement in such a messed-up head. A warmth spread through my chest.
“I love you, you know that?” I said softly.
Carol whirled around like I’d slapped her.
“For thelove of God,Juliette. Stop with the sentimental shitright this second.We are in tequila mode.” I laughed, but she spun me around and pushed me out the door. Before I could protest, she stopped, pressed a quick kiss to my shoulder, and whispered, “I love you too.” Then she smacked my ass. “Now go get dressed. Let’s pretend it’s 2012, and we won’t wake up with a massive hangover tomorrow.”
A laugh bubbled up despite everything, and for the first time in weeks, I felt a tiny weight lift off my shoulders.
Yes.
For tonight, I’d beold Julesagain.
31
JULES
Carol, Victoria, and I lined up at the bar, each of us throwing back a shot in perfect, drunken sync. The tequila hit me immediately—deliciously hot, burning its way down my throat like a warm, welcoming friend. It was comforting somehow, that burn. Step one to quiet my loud, chaotic brain.
Or was it step four? How many shots did I take?
Ahn…
I bit into the lime. Carol and Victoria followed, their faces twisted in that universal tequila grimace.Amateurs. I actually loved the taste. Sour, tangy, and unapologetically sharp, kind of like how I felt about life.
While everyone else went through it savoring the sweetness, I was over here sucking on a lime. At first, I thought it was unfair, watching everyone else eat their metaphorical marshmallows, but over time, I realized that sweet wasn’t for me. Too fake. And people who were too sweet? Even worse. Nobody’s that perfect. If you’re all sugar, you’re hiding something,right?
Oops. There it was. Train-of-thought Jules had entered the chat, which meant the tequila was definitely working.
The nightclub was a mess of sound and movement. Four shots later, and the world around me was getting easier to handle. The noise didn’t bother me as much, and my shoulders relaxed. And the song that was playing? Perfection.
Bodies moved all around me, loose and carefree, swaying in time to the beat. I watched them for a second—these people who seemed so weightless, so unburdened. Like they’d hacked life and found a cheat code for pure, uninhibited fun. I envied the hell out of them. What would it be like to feel so… light?
One day, maybe.
Not today.
Life was heavy. Even here, even now.
My only real escape? Another shot.
I signaled to the bartender for another round. Carol and Victoria exchanged a look.
Too fast.
I didn’t care.
Carol leaned in close, her grin downright evil.
“Sooo… is it okay to talk about sex with Chris Jones yet, or do we need to give you a couple more weeks?”
My eyes rolled so hard they practically detached. The two of them burst into laughter, clearly proud of themselves.
“Give me a couple moremonths,” I deadpanned. I didn’t want to talk about him. Thinking about Chris was already too much, but sex with Chris? Forget it. That man ruined me. His hands, his body…
Fuck.
