Hazed (Palm South University)

I’ve been trying to process everything with my therapist, and she’s told me it’s a great time to throw effort into dating myself. She encouraged me to fill my time when I’m not with Gavin, and to not overanalyze anything he says to me.

Trust him. Take his words for what they are instead of trying to make them mean something else.

As if it’s that easy.

I’ve been understanding, and I’ve been trying to let go of all the insecurities his rejection brought out in me. But it’s hard — especially on nights like tonight, when he bails on our plans last minute.

I’m still sitting on the couch with my phone in my hand when Jess blows through the front door.

“Job interviews are the fucking worst,” she huffs, slinging her purse over one of the hooks by the door before she promptly kicks off her heels. She plops down next to me with a groan. “I swear, if I have to answer one more question about my strengths and weaknesses, I’m going to pitch myself off our balcony.”

I chuckle. “Please don’t do that. Someone would have to clean up the mess and that’s not fair.”

That earns me a smile, and Jess sighs, letting her head loll to the side until she’s looking at me. She opens her mouth to say something, but then snaps upright, brows furrowed as she takes in my appearance.

“Damn, Ex,” she says with a low whistle. “Gavin is going to come on the spot when he sees your tits pushed up like that.”

I laugh, looking down at my cleavage. “The girls do look nice, don’t they?”

“I’ll say. You’ve got me questioning my sexuality.”

“Well, touch them if you want,” I say, flopping back with a huff. “Because otherwise, this entire outfit is going to waste.”

“What do you mean?”

I shrug. “Gavin had to cancel. Study group thing he forgot about.”

“Ex…”

“I know, I know,” I say, holding up my hands. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

Jess has to physically bite her lip to keep from asking me more questions, but then she claps her hands together and points a finger up at the sky. “That’s it. Adult Spring Break.”

I laugh. “What?”

“This is the perfect occasion. I’ve had a shit day of trying to convince people to hire me. You’ve been blown off by a stupid boy. And we haven’t gone out on the town together in way too long. So, let me get changed, and then we’re going to go fuck up downtown like we’re on Spring Break.”

“But you’re not in college anymore. And I’m in law school. Spring Break isn’t really a thing.”

“Well, tonight it is.” She pulls me up from the couch and smacks my ass. “Pack a flask in your purse and cancel any plans you have in the morning. Neither of us is sleeping tonight.”

Not even three hours later, I’m dancing on a bar stage with a man dressed in lederhosen.

I’m not really sure how we got here. We started with tequila shots at a bar across the street from our condo building, and then we just started hopping from place to place. Every time we’d enter a new bar, Jess would scream, “SPRING BREAK!” at the top of her lungs and then we’d promptly take another shot.

I lost count after the fifth one.

And as silly as it is, two grown ass women bar hopping like we’re still in college, it does feel reminiscent of Spring Break.

And it’s fun as hell.

The bar we’re at now has a live band playing German music, and there must be some sort of event because half the bar is dressed like it’s Oktoberfest. When Jess screamed our Spring Break entrance and we slammed another shot, we instantly caught the attention of a group of what had to be frat boys.

All of them dressed in lederhosen.

I don’t recognize any of them, so I assume they’re not from PSU. It is Spring Break time, so for all we know, they could be on vacation from Ohio.

Regardless, they bought our next round of shots, and now we’re on the stage next to the live band dancing like a bunch of hippies.

“This was the best idea ever!” Jess screams into my ear over the music. Then, she promptly grabs the man in the lederhosen behind her by the suspenders he’s wearing and starts dancing like a loon. It would be one thing if she was bumping and grinding on him, but she’s doing this weird humping motion with her hips, her tongue sticking out, and there’s absolutely nothing sexy about it.

Which makes me love the whole situation even more.

I mimic her, turning to face the guy behind me — who looks no older than nineteen, if I’m being honest with myself. But I don’t care. The tequila in my system makes it hard to care about anything, really.