Nightlife ✓

20 | sobriety

WERE GIRLS SUPPOSED TO BE excited about wearing elegant gowns and attending balls?

Because I wasn't. This wasn't even a contrarian effort of mine—you know, to be unlike other girls—I was just tired. I had taken my Biophysics midterm in the afternoon, messaging Quen right up until we had to go into our separate exam rooms. The conversation was safe and study-centric, but even having him wish me luck was a small comfort.

Though, in actuality, he had a roundabout way of doing that.

Quen: I'd wish you luck, but that would be implying that you need it.

Krista: Maybe I do need it.

Krista: Biophys is one of my weaker subjects.

Quen: And by weaker, you mean you might get an A overall.

Quen: Instead of an A+.

Krista: . . .

Quen: Point proven.

Krista: Good luck to you, too.

Quen: Thanks, Krista.

I was pleased with how the test went. If I was honest, I expected as much because of the hours of work I had put into Biophysics this semester. It was the easiest one of my courses to revise because I paid that much attention to it. It was my favourite.

But now all I wanted to do was curl up in bed and watch the next episode of the Clone Wars until I fell asleep. Between that blissful comfort and me was a steep, thorny, arduous path called SciBall. I had to endure it before I could reach my dearly coveted destination.

As soon as I returned to the dormitory, Riley, Viv and I locked ourselves in my room. We blared our go-to girls' night playlist and started the process of getting ready. I applied a toned-down version of my work makeup with rote precision. Soft eyebrows, warm blush and a glossy lip.

Riley lent me a beautiful white dress to wear for the night. It had a plunging V-neckline that led seamlessly into two wide secure straps, with a body-hugging torso. The back of the dress plunged low on my spine in a similar fashion to the front. A slit offered the occasional flash of my left leg, while the ankle-length hem meant that I didn't ever have to worry about tripping over the dress.

Modern, elegant and, best of all, functional.

Riley wore a lacy, burgundy, A-line dress and Viv donned a neon pink, body-conforming two-piece that I was sure would screw with the photographers' camera with how reflective it was. After we'd strapped on our heels, the pair of them got down to the most important business of the night.

Viv retrieved the familiar green bottles from a paper shopping bag that clinked suspiciously when it moved. She intertwined her arm with Riley's, each holding one.

"Not too late to join us," Viv offered, challenging me with bright, eager eyes.

I smiled sweetly, "I know."

Riley and Viv shrugged at my obstinate commitment to sobriety, then tilted their bottles of soju up and drank.

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By the time Jamie was pulling his SUV into the carpark of the Halston Convention Centre, Riley was a complete, drunken mess.

"You all know she's a lightweight," Jamie said frustratedly. "Why would you let her get buzzed so early?"

Jamie was driving, Jake was sitting in the passenger seat and us girls crowded into the back seat. The Jays had opted not to drink at the dorm. SciBall boasted an open bar comprising watery vodka cruisers and tepid ciders, with some hard-hitting beverages available for purchase.