14. Ivy
Ivy
W hen I arrive at the party, it’s already in full swing. Makayla was very popular in college. She was known for her party-girl ways, which is why we naturally gravitated toward each other and became friends.
On the nights Billie wanted to focus on her studies, Makayla and I went out on the town in London.
I don’t talk to her as much now, other than a few social media comments here and there.
She moved to Manhattan—around the same time I came back—to be closer to her on-again, off-again boyfriend, Jared, who is originally from here.
Despite our infrequent communication, there’s one thing we can depend on each other for. If there’s a party, it’s go time.
There are only a few people here I recognize, but I don’t need people I know in order to have a good time.
I could be placed in a room full of strangers and still have the most epic night.
It’s one of my many talents. Like my father, my mother always told me I’m a total extrovert.
I do, however, enjoy my own company and sometimes prefer that, but I draw my energy from large groups of people.
The restaurant is cute and has been designed to create a mini-club vibe, and it’s often rented out for special events. I don’t know whose birthday this party is for, and I don’t care. There aren’t many guest lists I can’t get on.
I spot Makayla straight away, Jared basically attached to her hip.
I don’t know why those two stay together.
They’re always cheating on each other, hooking up with complete strangers to make each other jealous.
Yet they always work their way back to one other, even knowing how toxic it is.
I told her what I thought about it once, and I’ve never bothered to repeat it because it’s not my life.
Jared notices me first and immediately pulls me in for a hug.
“It’s been a while. We’ve missed you. You’ve been quiet on the town lately,” he says, and before I can reply, Makayla pushes Jared out of the way and screams so loudly that we both cringe from what might be close to a pierced eardrum.
She throws her arms around me, the force of her embrace causing me to take a couple of steps back.
I quickly realize how drunk she is already.
“I’ve missed you,” she slurs in her British accent.
“She’s already ten shots in,” Jared explains. Then he motions to the guy next to him. “This is my friend Lester.”
Makayla steps back and looks at me seriously without giving me time to greet their friend. “You have to catch up,” she demands as she grabs a shot glass from the table they’re sitting at and hands it to me.
“Don’t have to tempt me with a good time,” I reply, then throw it back. She claps loudly as she grabs a second shot glass, and I hold up a hand.
“Let me breathe first,” I say. She might be ten in already, but I want to at least enjoy the taste of a drink. The night’s young, and I want to savor it as I circle the room and see who grabs my attention.
“Ohhhh, any new boys on the radar for you?” she asks, leaning into me as if I’m harboring a great secret, and begins to scan the room. Jared doesn’t seem impressed but takes a seat beside me with a group of people I haven’t yet met.
“Ewww. We fuck men , Makayla,” I tell her with raised brows. “And, no, I’m not seeing anyone exclusively.”
One thing I’ve noticed about my college friends, especially my fellow party girls, is the moment they shack up with someone, they ask when everyone else will be in a relationship.
And then it’s like they try to relive their glory days through me while pitying me at the same time.
I really don’t give a shit about any of it, though.
I’m grateful I don’t have to deal with that from Billie and Hope.
“But you want to be?” she asks. That’s when I notice her eyes are dilated. Okay, maybe she’s done more than just drink. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve tried party drugs before, but I’ve never been dependent on them to have fun. Makayla looks like she’s pumped full of them right now.
I go to tell her no, but then her hands are on my face again. “Oh my God! I have the perfect idea,” she squeals, and Jared rolls his eyes, obviously exhausted.
Makayla grabs my hand, then glances around the table, realizing it’s full of empty glasses. Then, she looks behind her at a table with a half-full wine glass on it.
“I just need to borrow this for a sec,” she says, swiping it from someone who looks at her confused but says nothing. It’s the usual reaction when Makayla is up to her antics.
She places it in front of me and then scoots Jared’s glass of whiskey closer.
“Now, you hold this, and you hold this,” she instructs. Jared is now holding the whiskey glass, and my fingers dance at the base of the wine glass. “We’re going to play a game. Jared, get closer to her.”
He shoots me a puzzled look but does as she says, and I wonder where she’s going with this. I’m all for games and pranks, but Makayla’s are sometimes… not fun.
“I played this game with Jared once,” she says proudly, and he rolls his eyes.
She reaches for my purse, and I pull it out of her grasp.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I need your phone. Trust me.” I don’t trust her, but I’m also curious. “Unlock it, please.”
Jared takes a sip of his drink and casually asks me, “How long are you in town for this time?”
“I live here now,” I tell him, and he pauses his glass at his lips. “I’m still traveling a lot, though.”
“She’s been complaining about you not coming out much lately,” he says as Makayla stands behind us and clears her throat.
“Cozy up and keep the hands close,” she directs as she takes a photo of only our drinks and hands, then posts it to my Instagram story, along with a tag of our location.
From an outsider looking at the photo, it appears like I’m on a date with a mystery man.
“Why did you do that?” I ask, and she bounces between us, shuffling to sit on Jared’s lap and then winding her arms around his neck. She’s chuffed with herself.
“Well, I like to call it dick roulette. The guys on your account who are obsessed with you will most likely arrive, and it’ll be entertainment for us.
And, bonus, you’ll get laid. Win-win.” She claps her hands excitedly.
I look to Jared, who shrugs and wraps an arm around Makayla’s waist. She reaches for another shot and sets it in front of me, and I decide to make more room for them by sitting on the other side of their friend, Lester.
“Glad I have company now,” he jokes. He’s attractive but not really someone I’d go out of my way to sleep with. Maybe after a few drinks, I might think differently.
“Better buckle up; it’s about to get fun,” I say as I cheer with the second shot. Jared is staring at us. He often does that—watches me when we’re all out together—and I’m certain he’s not a fan of me sleeping with any of his friends. If they’re single, they’re free game.
I start talking with Lester, and it quickly becomes apparent that he’s not my type. My ovaries shrivel by the second as he talks grotesquely about Instagram models who would be out of his league even if he theoretically met them. Snooze.
I slip away and start mingling with the other guests.
I notice a girl vomiting in the corner, which isn’t surprising at these types of events.
One of her friends is holding back her hair, and the poor waitress looks like she doesn’t know what to do.
Someone else walks past with a bucket of bottled water.
I swipe one, my stomach stirring at the thought of being in the same situation as that poor girl.
Maybe there’s something in the air because I start feeling nauseous myself.
The alcohol is hitting me, which is weird because I’ve only had two shots and can usually drink far more before I start feeling sick.
I pull out my phone to check the time. I haven’t even been here for an hour.
I feel my forehead. Am I sick? No, I don’t think so.
I struggle to focus on the person speaking to me, their words blurring and their voice getting fuzzy. I can’t quite comprehend what they’re saying.
“Ivy.” I don’t know who says my name, but I wave them off and try to find somewhere to sit.
I think I need another glass of water. Did I eat today?
Maybe that’s why I feel tipsy. I usually eat before I drink because otherwise, I feel sick.
I don’t exactly feel sick right now, but something isn’t right.