LISA
"It's gonna be sick, man," Jackson tells me as he climbs onto the stone wall at the end of the parking lot.
"Sure it will," I remark. I move out of the way of Ten's cigarette smoke and sit next to Jackson.
"It will, and you better not bitch out, because we've had this planned for months," Ten tells me.
My legs swing back and forth, and for a second I think of pushing Ten off the stone wall for all the shit he gave me about taking my piercings out.
"I'm coming. I already told you I was."
"Are you bringing her?" Jackson asks, obviously talking about Jen. "Nah, she's busy."
"Busy? It's your twenty-first birthday, dude. You took your rings out for her, she needs to be there," Ten remarks.
"Whenever she comes, shit always goes down anyway. And for the last fucking time, I didn't take them out for her." I roll my eyes and trace the cracks in the concrete.
"Maybe you should have her beat Nancy's ass again—that was priceless." Jackson chuckles.
"That was so funny; she's funny when she's drunk, too. And when she cusses it's so funny. It's like hearing my Nan cuss." Ten laughs along with Jackson.
"Would you two just shut the fuck up about her, already? She's not coming."
"All right, calm down, would you?" Jackson asks with a smile.
I wish the two of them hadn't put together a party for me, because I wanted to spend my birthday with Jennie. I don't really give a shit about birthdays, but I wanted to see her. I know she doesn't have shit to do, she just doesn't want to be around my friends—not that I blame her.
"Is something going on with you and Rosé?" Jackson asks as we head to class.
"Yeah, she's a dick and won't stay away from Jennie. Why?"
"I'm just wondering because I saw Jennie going into the environmental- whatever-the-fuck-it's-called building and I thought it was weird . . ." Jackson tells me.
"When was this?"
"Like two days ago. Monday, I think."
"Are you . . ." But I stop midsentence because I know he's serious.
Goddammit, Jennie, what part of "stay the fuck away from Rosé" do you not understand?
"You don't care if she comes, though, right? Because we already told everybody and I don't want to uninvite anyone," Jackson says; he's always been the nice one out of our group.
"I don't give a shit. She's not the one fucking her, I am," I tell him and he laughs. If he only knew what was actually going on.
Jackson and Ten leave me in front of the athletic building, and I have to admit I'm anxious to see Jennie. I wonder how she wore her hair today and if she'll be in those pants that I love so much.
What the fuck? It still blows my mind the way I think about the dumbest shit. Months ago, if you'd told me I'd be daydreaming about the way some girl was wearing her hair, I would have knocked your teeth out. And yet here I am hoping that Jennie's pulled hers back so I can see her face.
LATER, I CAN'T BELIEVE I'm back at the frat house again. It feels like ages ago that I lived here. I don't miss it at all, but I don't exactly love living in that apartment alone either.
This year has been fucking insane. I really can't believe I'm twenty-one now and will be finished with university next year. My mum kept crying on the phone earlier about how I'm growing up too quickly, and I ended up hanging up on her because she just wouldn't stop. In my defense, I was somewhat polite about it, acting as if my phone was about to die the whole conversation.
The house is packed, the street is lined with cars, and I wonder who the fuck-all these people are that are here for my birthday. I know the party isn't totally for me. It's just an excuse to throw a big-ass party, but still. Just as I begin to wish Jennie were here, I spot Nancy's hideous pink hair and I'm glad Jennie didn't come.
"There's the birthday girl." She smiles and walks into the house before me.
"Manobaaan!" Bambam calls from the kitchen; he's already been drinking, I can tell.
"Where's Jen?" Wendy asks.
All of my friends are standing in a small circle basically staring me down as I try to think of something on the spot. The last thing I need is for them to know I'm trying to persuade her to come back to me.
"Wait . . . more importantly, where the hell are your rings?" Wendy puts her hand under my chin and tilts my head to examine me like I'm a fucking lab rat.
"Get off," I groan and pull away from her.
"Holy shit! You're turning into one of them," Nancy says and points to a group of preppy douche bags across the room.
"No, I'm not." I glare at her.
She cackles and presses on: "Yes, you are! She told you to take them out, didn't she?"
"No, she didn't, I took them out because I fucking felt like it. Mind your own damn business," I snap, and she rolls her eyes.
"Whatever you say." She walks away, thank God.
"Ignore her. Anyway, is Jennie coming?" Wendy asks me, and I shake my head. "Well, I miss her! I wish she would hang out more." She takes a drink from her red cup.
"Me, too," I say under my breath and fill a cup with water.
Much to my misery, the music and voices get louder as the night goes on. Everyone is wasted before eight o'clock. I still haven't decided if I want to drink or not. I went a long time without drinking until that night at my father's when I destroyed all of Karen's china. I used to go through these lame-ass parties without drinking . . . well, for the most part. I barely remember my early college days, bottle after bottle, slut after slut—it's a blur, and I'm glad. Shit didn't make sense before Jennie came around.
I find a spot on the couch next to Bambam and zone out to thoughts of Jennie while my friends play another dumb-ass drinking game.