Even though I’ve only ever heard terrible things about British food, I smile, appreciative of the gesture. My diet was one of the first issues my mom raised when I told my parents about the exchange programme. Along with the weather, driving on the wrong side of the road, whether or not the campus was safe, how I would cope with the time difference, the British pronunciation of the word ‘schedule’, and another five thousand or so other issues she brought up so often I could, and often did, recite them to myself when I woke up in the middle of the night. There have to be fifty protein bars in my suitcase, an entire Costco case of Barebells or Quest bars, whatever kick my mom is on at the moment. Either way, I’m not about to starve.
‘Well, I’m glad I found you,’ Alice says, squeezing my arm. ‘I hate walking into a busy room on my own and hunting for friends,which is another deeply embarrassing confession. Americans are always so confident.’
‘Right, super confident.’
I can’t think of a single reason why she would ever need to know that I was four seconds away from bailing back to my room if she hadn’t shown up.
‘Must be weird though, even if you’re the most confident person on the planet. Coming to a new university in third year, leaving all your mates back home? It has to be hard.’
I nod but say nothing. Something else she doesn’t need to know about, my friends back home or lack thereof. Alice carries on talking, happy to take the lead while I take in my new surroundings. Between the old buildings and the grand trees that dot the grounds, it’s impossibly beautiful, like a painting come to life.
‘Aside from seeing Jonathan Bailey in Selfridges last summer, meeting Jenna when I got here is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. She was basically the first person I spoke to when my mum dropped me off. We both had the same Eras tour jumper on, which was obviously basis enough for a lifelong friendship on its own, but then we went to the union, got absolutely hammered, and that was it. She’s never getting rid of me now. And yes, Jonathan Bailey is just as beautiful in real life. He was buying moisturizer. I nearly died.’
I think of my own Eras tour sweatshirt, neatly folded in a drawer in my room at home. Why did I leave it behind? Because I convinced myself the cool kids at Hemden would consider it cringe. A twinge of anxiety tugs the corners of my mouth downwards.
‘And we’ve made it.’
Alice releases my arm and gestures to a building absolutely swarming with students, dead ahead.
‘The student union motherhouse, more commonly known asMembers,’ she says. ‘As in you have to be a member of the student union to get in, so no need to worry, what happens in Members, stays in Members.’
Why does that sound so ominous?
‘It’s like a social club?’
‘You could say that. It’s a bar. A heavily,heavilysubsidized bar. And if you’re ever looking for someone,anyone, there’s at least a fifty per cent chance you’ll find them here.’
It doesn’t look like any kind of bar I’ve seen in South Carolina. Built from the same yellow stone as the other campus buildings but less worn with age and more added charm. Like maybe it’s only a couple of centuries old rather than a whole millennium.
But it’s still a bar.
‘You all right?’ Alice asks. ‘You’ve gone very pale.’
‘I’m fine,’ I reply quickly. ‘Totally fine.’
Back home, bars aren’t really my scene. Valley Springs is too small of a town to get away with underage drinking, everyone knows everyone, and if I came home even slightly buzzed, I doubt I’d see daylight again until I was sixty-five. But this is hardly some dark hole, full of all-day drunks and rickety cigarette machines. It’s the student union, it’s part of the university, and clearly a very essential part of student life. Paying a visit, even if it’s just this once, is practically part of orientation. Also, I don’t need to tell my parents about it.
As we approach, I notice the windows are leaded, panes of glass separated into dozens of black-edged diamonds, conveniently too small to reveal whatever might be happening inside. But there’s music, a thudding bass at odds with the elegant exterior, and underneath the music, I can hear laughter. The people inside are happy. I want to be the people inside.
Alice tilts her head to one side and smiles.
‘Come on, first round’s on me.’
She beckons me onwards into the darkness and after only a second of hesitation, I follow her inside.
This place is packed and the vibe is electric. I find Alice’s hand as she leads me through the sea of people who have already filled the dance floor, some moving to the beat, others leaning into their friends, lips against ears, to be heard over the music. Everyone is high on first night fever and even though it’s cool outside, the air inside Members is hot and humid, bodies pressed close to willing bodies. The subdued lighting turns the room into a liminal space, existing outside the regular rules of time, like it could be anywhere between four p.m. and three a.m.. My world is beginning to feel soft at the edges, slightly dreamy. Jet lag, sweat and the overall overwhelm of the scene in front of me pushes me backwards through the looking glass.
‘There they are!’
Alice tugs on my arm as I play Where’s Waldo with her friends, eventually spotting Jenna and Bryn lined up at the bar, Jenna dressed up in tight jeans and silky shirt, Bryn dressed down in jeans and a plain black tee. We shimmy through the crowd, my body squeezed in a human vice, and by the time we reach them, I’ve already gotten more intimate with everyone in the bar than I did with my date for prom.
‘What are you drinking?’ Jenna yells. ‘Bryn’s buying.’
‘I am?’
‘You tried to kill the woman, buy her a bloody drink.’
‘You don’t have to, I don’t really—’ I start to say, one handpressed against my stomach, but before I can finish my sentence, both Jenna and Bryn have already turned back to the bartender to order something called a ‘double first’. I watch, speechless, as assorted bottles are tipped upside down, multi-coloured liquids poured into a huge plastic pitcher then mixed together with a spritz of soda.
