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“I’ll keep working on it,” I say, and my voice is thicker than I’d like.
“I know you will.”
The intercom says something about a promotion on vitamins.
“Go home, Bea,” she adds. “Put the radiance masks back—both of them, you don’t need either—and go and do something this evening that isn’t about anyone’s future. Including his. Have some fun.” A flicker of the gleam returns. “Though I’d imagine he’ll be in a celebrating sort of mood, if you happened to want to know that. It’s none of my business. By the way, I’m a Luca girl myself.” She winks, leaving me in shock.
She’s an Atlas Falling fan?
I put the radiance masks back.
He passed.
My chest swells with pride. And all I can think about is how I wish I could celebrate with him.
* * *
Moe’s Bar smells like spilled beer and way too much perfume. The DJ’s playing a Fleetwood Mac song and Sydney has already ordered three things off the cocktail menu and announced that she intends to try all of them before committing to one.
“I’m not understanding the method here, Sydney,” Gianna says.
“I don’t know which one I’ll like best so I’m ordering all three, and we’re celebrating!”
“What are we celebrating?”
Sydney gestures broadly at the three of us, at the table, at the room. “Post-MCAT Bea. Post-Mark Gianna. Pre-the-rest-of-our-freakin-lives! This.” She picks up the first cocktail—something very pink and holds it up. “The three of us. Right now, single and stress free.”
Gianna looks at me.
I look at Gianna.
We both pick up our drinks.
“The three of us,” I say.
We clink.
Sydney makes a sound of deep personal satisfaction and takes a long sip and then sets the glass down with a frown. “Okay. That one’s too sweet. Gianna, you have that one. I’m moving on.”
“You literally just ordered it—”
“This is part of the method. The ones I don’t like, you and Bea get.”
Gianna accepts the pink drink with resignation. Sometimes it’s easier to remember arguing with Sydney about basically anything is a waste of energy. She takes a sip. Her face approves.
“That is,” she says, “incredibly sweet.”
“I know.”
“I actually kinda like it.”
“I know. You love gross drinks. Now drink up so we can go and dance!”
I lean my elbows on the table and look at the two of them. The lights are low, the music is loud, Sydney’s already eyeing the dance floor, and Gianna has this particular looseness about her that I haven’t seen since I met her. Breaking up with Mark has done her a world of good.
I feel the opposite of relaxed.
She ended it back in February, the day she dragged me dress shopping and told me she was fine through her sunglasses. It’s taken some time, but lately, she actually seems it.
