Soulmate

Thirteen: Ophelia

June 7, 2019
San Francisco, California

"Fuck Kim Seokjin!" I yell out at the top of my lungs.

Are cheers and downs her shot with me excitedly. Rose cheers along beside us, taking an energetic drink of her Sprite.

"He's in Paris right now, probably having a great time with what's-her-face, but I don't care?" I wave for the bartender to send another shot my way and drink it in an instant. "Who needs soulmates?"

"Yeah, I mean, this is sooo funnnnnnnnn," Ara slurs with giggles. The tattoo on her shoulder is on full display with her short hair and strapless black dress. For the first time ever, she doesn't seem self conscious about its size or vibrant colors. "I haven't gone drinking in so long, wwwOOOWWWW!"

She spins around, showing everyone in the club what a lightweight she's become over the school year, and nearly falls right into someone dancing.

Ara just laughs as the person holds onto her waist. "Sorry," she drags out.

The guy smiles at her. "No worries."

Her blushing cheeks and giggles help us to see how drunk she really is. She turns around in the taller man's hold and places a hand on his chest. "Dance?"

Instead, he seats her at the bar with us again and gets her a glass of water. He doesn't get to leave before Ara can give him her phone number.

I usually hate clubbing, drinking, loud places in general; it's probably from living with my grandmother. But when she shoved me out of the house, and Rose assured me David was fine at home with Violet, I was out.

It must be something about the new hair that's had me going out of my comfort zone tonight, maybe it's the recent incidents with Seokjin. Normally, during my summer vacation, I would simply be working at an internship, cooking for my grandma, and refreshing Twitter. Now I'm out partying and drinking.

I raise my hand for another shot and Rose slaps my hand back onto the bar. She slides a glass of water into my hand.

"Hold your horses, queen," she says. "Two glasses of water before any more Tequila."

I roll my eyes and sip the lukewarm water in my hand. "Whatever, Mom."

"You wish,"  she teases. "Once you finish that cup, get dancing. You can't be too sober for dancing, but you can't be too drunk either. I didn't free you from Nanna's Friday night marathons of Run!  for you to get drunk and crash on me."

"I don't want to dance," I whine. All I want is drink. The last thing I want is to feel guilty about having someone else's hands on me.

"Yes, you do. Believe me."

I don't believe her.

"Look, just one dance. For me?" She pouts and holds my hand sweetly. David had asked her not to dance before we left, which she agreed to. Everybody loves a strawberry-blonde, twenty-two year old party girl with curvy pregnancy hips.

"Okay," I concede. "But only one dance! I'm not giving in."

"Uh-huh, sure." She gasps at her phone screen, whines out an 'Awww!' and pulls me over to stand beside her. "Look at this photo David sent me," she says in a pout. It's a photo of violet in the purple onesie I bought her with cute little socks on her hands and feet. "He said she just ate and is going back to sleep." Rose touches a hand to her heart. "This is my first time not being there when she goes to sleep, it's so weird. I miss them both so—"

"I'm going to dance!" I say, running away from her before she can start crying on me about how fast her baby is growing. She does that too much already.