When Dawson walked into LaFonda, he was pleasantly surprised by the atmosphere. Rainbow Christmas lights were the sole source of lighting in the otherwise dim restaurant, and upbeat music played at a comfortable, but not too loud, volume from the speakers. It was filled with college students, and there was a talking parrot in a cage in the foyer. He spotted Kirby and her friends at a table near the karaoke stage, where a DJ was setting up his equipment for that night's performers. Kirby waved and called out his name and he walked towards them.
Kirby was sitting in between two guys. On the left was a tan, blonde, male version of Kirby. He wore a button down Oxford with khaki shorts and sandals. The other one was tall and athletic looking, with a deep tan and wavy, light brown hair. He was wearing a tight fitting Abercrombie and Fitch T-shirt with plaid shorts.
"Dawson, I'm glad you made it!" Kirby exclaimed. "This is my brother, Trent, and our roommate Greg. Trent, Greg, this is our new neighbor, Dawson Leery." Trent and Greg smiled and welcomed him to the table.
"Kirby and I cheered together at UCLA," Greg, the one in the Abercrombie gear, explained. Trent ordered a pitcher of margaritas for the table and patted Dawson on the back. "Welcome to LA, man," he said.
"So, Dawson, Kirby says you're from Massachusetts," Greg said. "Tell me, do you have a lucky lady back home?" Dawson was slightly taken aback by Greg's question. Is he hitting on me? He wondered.
"Actually, I'm not sure. I thought I did," he replied, remembering Joey's attempt to contact him earlier that evening.
"What do you mean?" Kirby asked, leaning forward.
"There's this girl, she's been my best friend literally all my life," he said. "Her name's Joey, and she's just a really amazing girl. And lately we've been… a little more than friends, I guess you could say—" Trent cut him off.
"Wait, so… you're, like, fucking her?" he asked. Dawson's eyes widened.
"What?!" he asked, incredulously. "No! Joey and I are just really… special friends," he said. He was immediately embarrassed by his choice of words. Special friends?! God, how juvenile. "I mean…"He was flustered. Kirby laughed.
"I'm sorry," she said. "Trent, control yourself! Show some respect for this girl." Dawson offered a weak smile and continued his story.
"Anyway, she didn't want me to leave Massachusetts. We got into a huge fight before I left and I haven't spoken to her since. So to answer your question, Greg, I guess we are just friends now. If we're even that."
"Awww, that's sad," Kirby said, poking out her bottom lip. "So, Dawson," she asked with interest. "Just out of curiosity, was Joey a cheerleader?" Dawson laughed out loud.
"My God, Kirby! You've got to get over your obsession with cheerleading," Trent exclaimed. "Believe it or not, most people think it's stupid." Kirby opened her mouth in objection.
"Hey!" she warned Trent. "That's not true. And cheerleading is a hardcore sport. We have more injuries every year—"
"I know… I know… more injuries than football," Trent finished. Kirby smiled proudly.
"So was she? A cheerleader?" she asked again.
"That's a definite negative," Dawson said. "Jo is like the anti-cheerleader." Kirby looked disappointed.
"So… we're like, total opposites," she murmured.
"Well, yeah, kind of. But that's not always a bad thing," Dawson answered. "Joey's not exactly optimisitic. I mean, in a lot of ways, I'M her opposite. But, God, I miss her."
Trent handed Dawson a margarita. "Drink up, man," he said. "It'll make you forget all about Joey. I promise." Dawson accepted it happily.
"Okay, Dawson, we're here!" Dawson got out of the backseat of Kirby's Land Rover and watched as Trent pulled into the parking space next to them, driving Dawson's car. Trent tossed Dawson's keys to Kirby.
"Make sure he gets into his apartment okay," he instructed. Kirby nodded and put a slender arm around Dawson's waist, supporting him as he staggered towards his apartment.
"I feel like crap," he moaned, squeezing his eyes shut to stop his drunken illusion that everything was spinning.
"I know… it's okay. We're almost there," Kirby said. "At least you're not puking everywhere. You should have seen me after my first night at LaFonda. It's easy to get carried away there."
Dawson winced. "Believe me, it's coming. I just don't want to suffer the indignity of having you witness it."
Kirby laughed and unlocked the door to his apartment and the two of them walked inside.
"I had fun tonight," she said. "And please don't worry about anything. I know you're embarrassed, but I promise you, this is so not a big deal."
"Thanks for everything, Kirby. I'm really glad I met you," he said. He walked into the bedroom and Kirby followed him.
"Do you need anything before I go?" she asked. Suddenly Dawson felt a wave of nausea.
"Get me a clean T-shirt from the closet," he choked out. "I think I'm about to start puking my guts out." Kirby sprung into action and opened the closet as Dawson started to lean over the sink. Suddenly, he heard Kirby let out an ear piercing scream. He jumped up and ran into the bedroom to see a horrified Kirby staring at Joey Potter, who was sitting on the floor of his closet.
"Jesus Christ!!" Dawson exclaimed. "Joey! How did you…?" Suddenly his face paled. "Excuse me," he mumbled, before turning around and vomiting into an empty moving box.
"I'm gonna get going," Kirby said awkwardly, hightailing out of the apartment. Joey glared at Dawson, who looked equally mortified and confused.
"Surprise," she said dryly.