2. Remi
two
Remi
Lucy showed up right on schedule at nine with a handle of tequila that I’m not questioning from where, a makeup bag the size of a carry-on and zero intention of leaving my bathroom any time soon.
”Move,” she said, hip-checking me away from the mirror without looking up from her phone.
I move because I’ve learned over two years of friendship that arguing with Lucy about bathroom real estate is a battle I will not win. She set the tequila down on the counter, unzipped her bag, and started pulling out makeup and brushes with the focus of someone preparing for surgery.
This is how it always goes with her. She shows up, takes over, and somehow we both end up looking better because of it.
I leaned against the doorframe and watched her for a second.
She had her blonde hair down, long waves brushed out until they caught in the light, and she was honestly stunning.
She was wearing the pink two piece set she’d texted me about the other day saying ‘tell me not to buy it’ then proceeded to buy it anyways before I could even respond.
She looked like a Pinterest board, or something that belonged in a sorority house with a ring light and zero problems.
I looked like her nightmare.
“You’re wearing that?” she asked, eyes flicking to me in the mirror.
“What’s wrong with this?”
”Nothing’s wrong with it, it’s just—” she gestured vaguely at all of me, “—very you.”
“How kind of you,” I say with an eyeroll.
I could tell she had opinions she was choosing not to share and went back to her mascara. I turned to the mirror beside her, and we both stood there for a minute before we started busting up laughing. By the time it settled we were both just grinning at our own reflections like idiots.
We look ridiculous together, I know this.
Red hair piled on top of my head, glasses I keep meaning to swap out for contacts, dark nails, and fishnets over a black bralette.
Also, black leggings that I’ll be switching for jeans before we leave because I am not showing up to a frat party in leggings.
Lucy in her pink set with her long blonde hair and pearl earrings looking like she’s never done anything wrong in her life.
We are a before and after photo where nobody can agree on which one is the before.
“Here,” Lucy said, holding out the tequila.
I took it and sipped straight from the bottle because we are who we are, and the burn of it spread down my chest easily and warm.
”Top me off,” she said, pointing at the shot glass she’d already set out on the counter and I poured while she finished her eye.
The bathroom smelled like perfume and dry shampoo while we got ready.
I pulled my hair down and shook it out watching the loose waves fall – that deep red that looks almost auburn in low light and practically neon under anything bright.
My mom has dark hair, so I got this somewhere on my dad’s side.
I wouldn’t truly know though because he has been a non-factor since before I could even form a sentence and I stopped being bothered by that a long time ago. The hair is mine now and I own it.
“Okay,” Lucy said, turning to face me fully. She had her compact out and was looking between that and my face deciding how this was gonna go. “Sit.”
”I can do my own makeup.”
“Sit, Remi.”
I sat on the edge up the tub while she did my eyeliner in about forty-five seconds.
Which is seriously unfair because it takes me ten minutes and I don’t even get close to how good she does it.
She handed me her compact so I could do the rest. I did my lips while she changed into her heels, and I stood back up to look in the mirror.
Lucy looked me over and said ‘okay yes’ which, in her world, that settles it.
We each did a shot off the bathroom counter before she pulled a small bag from the inside pocket of her purse, set it next to the tequila, and raised her eyebrow at me.
”Pre-game,” she said.
”Obviously.”
The party was three blocks from campus in a house that had clearly been a nice house once, maybe ten years ago, before it looked like college kids ran through it.
There was a keg stand in the backyard along with a keg, strings of lights that two-thirds of the bulbs had blown out, and inside I’m sure every surface has seen some shit.
Someone had a speaker set up in the living room loud enough that you felt it in your sternum before you even got to the door and the crowd spilled out onto the front porch and down the steps.
There was a trail of people from there to the back yard like the house had run out of room and given up trying to contain everyone.
Lucy grabbed my hand the second we hit the porch and pulled me through the door like she’d been here before.
She had, we both had, considering this was one of maybe three rotation houses that saw most of the campus on any given weekend.
The living room had bodies, music and the energy of a hundred people who had already been drinking for a few hours.
Someone had red cups stacked on every flat surface and the kitchen was through an archway to the left and that’s where the serious drinking happened.
Wouldn’t you know it, Lucy was already pointing that way.
We got drinks and found a corner of the living room that had somewhat enough space to exist in. Lucy started talking to a girl from her psychology class and I stood beside her with my cup letting the party wash over me and just absorbing the energy.
The cocaine had made everything a little sharper and warmer at the same time, which was the part I liked. It came with clarity that makes a room full of strangers feel manageable. I could feel the music more than I could hear it and my fingers were already loose around the cup.
A guy materialized on my left shoulder. Tall, dark hair, and a face that could definitely get him places.
“Hey,” he said.
”Hi,”
”Do you go here?”
”I do.”
He smiled and I smiled back because I’m not rude, but I’m also not interested.
He said something about my hair, which I’m sure was a compliment but I guess people don’t see hair this red naturally as often so I’m used to it.
After seriously boring small talk, he asked if he could get me another drink.
I looked at my cup, which was still half full, and then back at him before telling him I was fine.
He took it better than some guys do, which I noted as a point in his favor even as he drifted back into the crowd. Lucy appeared at my elbow no less than four seconds later.
“Was he cute?”
”Objectively”
“But?”
”No, but I just didn’t need another drink.” I shrugged.
She gave me the look that says I just fucked up because he was a nice guy. I ignored it as she pulled on my hand.
”Dance with me,” she asked with the damned hazel puppy dog eyes she knows I can’t say no to.
The floor was crowded, loud, and exactly what I needed.
Lucy dances without care how it looks, which works for her because she does everything so perfect effortlessly.
I danced beside her, feeling the tequila and coke moving warm through my blood and the music being so loud that it was no longer music, just a feeling.
For a while, I wasn’t thinking about anything at all, and I hadn’t realized just how bad I needed it.
No thoughts of where I live now, the party going on around me, Cold_Saint and his presence that seems to get under my skin daily, nothing.
Just right now, Lucy is spinning me around to say something that I couldn’t hear but laughing anyway because it’s all I could do. Just the bass, the bodies, and the freedom of a night that doesn’t have to mean anything.
Sometime around two in the morning, we found a patch of wall in the hallway and slid down it together, cups balanced on our knees. Lucy’s heels were in her hand, but my boots were still on because I have commitment to a look. I’m well aware we are both spent.
She rested her head on my shoulder, and I rested mine on top of hers. The party carried on alive around us regardless of the two girls sitting on the floor having a moment.
Lucy had said something that turned into a sentence that turned into a story about the girl from her class, and I listened even though my eyes were half closed. The night was still young and loose, and everything was exactly how it should be as a nineteen-year-old college student.