6. Lyla
Chapter six
Lyla
It was officially Opening Weekend, and while I thoroughly enjoyed another summer with my mom while ignoring my dad through all forms of communication, I was delighted to be back in BG. I even smiled at Michelle and Keira when they asked if I was going to vacuum my room.
Yes. It was good to be back.
To celebrate, the four of us were going out. Charlie had the grand idea at the liquor store of everyone buying a bottle for us to make a new drink. Once everyone poured a good bit of their alcohol into the serving pitcher, it was time to taste test.
“This . . . is . . . wild,” I said in between sips.
Michelle drew her mouth from the cup when she got a whiff of the potent aroma. Keira took it like a champ, and I thought Charlie was going to fall over at the sight of them contributing to anything that involved drinking or being social. Maybe we did make the right choice to room with them again this year. Perhaps the senior-year versions of Michelle and Keira were fun.
“That wasn’t the worst thing I’ve ever had.” Keira shrugged and chased the taste down with a White Claw.
“Let me taste that.” I reached out my hand, and Keira handed me the white can. It tasted like sparkling black cherry. “That could be dangerous. ”
“I saw them for the first time over the summer!" Keira exclaimed. “Have the rest of it. I bought a bunch of them just in case they weren’t in Ohio yet.”
Before I knew it, I was four White Claws in, and the girls of Apartment 3C were all singing along to The Chainsmokers. We embraced our last Opening Weekend and welcomed senior year with open arms. In just nine months, I would have everything I needed to start the next chapter of my life. I would graduate, move out of Cleveland, and finally put my business classes to use. The agreement with my dad was simple: once I graduated, I received the money in my trust fund.
Aaron Brooks was many, many things, and while father-of-the-year would never be one of them, he did know finances. I guess I would have something to thank him for in his eulogy.
Here lies Aaron Brooks: crap father, and crappier ex-boyfriend, but a fantastic Financial Advisor.
“Lyla?” Charlie asked, pulling me from my eulogy writing. “Will you be ready in ten? It’s almost eleven.”
I slipped down the hall to do a quick outfit change. Since it was warm, I decided on my yellow sundress that made my green eyes pop and brown wedges. I tugged on my hair tie and fluffed my loose curls so they fell evenly around my face. After some lipstick and a quick swipe of mascara, I did one final kiss to the mirror and was satisfied.
“Finding Mr. September!” Charlie yelled, clapping as I entered the living room. She looked amazing in a tight white crop top and high-waisted jean shorts.
We laughed at our inside joke and cheered as Michelle and Keira came down the hall. To my utter surprise, they both wore cute tops and . . . standing-only pants ? !
What the hell were they putting in those White Claws?
“One last shot, ladies!” Keira poured the mixture into our empty glasses and held hers up.
We toasted to a fabulous evening and new beginnings. It was my last clear memory of the night, because I was on a new vibe about three hours later.
We were cutting it close to last call, and Charlie wanted one more pineapple upside-down cake shot before we walked back to the apartment. I giggled as she clung to the guy she just met out on the patio. He was cute and seemed normal, the only two essential items for people you just met. The standards weren’t impressive when it came to the college lifestyle.
The Attic was known for a few things: a heated patio, pool tables, a stripper pole, and good music to dance to. It was also known for running into someone to go home with at the end of the night. I had no idea what it was about this place that made people come running around at one in the morning. Bowling Green was home to at least a dozen bars, but The Attic was a staple closing-time location.
I leaned against the counter and put my hand on my forehead. I was drunk. Very drunk.
“Let’s just do one more!” Charlie begged over the music.
The lights behind her danced along with the beat of the song, and I had to blink a few times to focus. I felt someone grab my hand, and I closed my eyes. When I opened them, a row of shots lined the counter.
“Are you good?” Michelle asked and handed me my shot.
I nodded, tasting the pineapple as it slid down my throat. “Yeah!” by Usher boomed through the bar, and screams came from the dance floor. We all ran to the commotion, and I completely forgot about trying to leave only a few moments ago. It was the last thing I remembered before I blacked out.