“I don’t have to be. It’s true, you know it’s true. And when have I done this before? Don’t I deserve one tiny break?”
That made Stacey hug me for some reason. “Never. You have never done anything like this before, Aria. Which is what makes me worry so much. You didn’t even miss a single class when Dick cheated on you. That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve a break! Of course you do. You work harder than anyone I know.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry for being such a recluse. I just have a lot of things to sort through my head. I’ll tell you all about it eventually. Right now I’m just confused and frustrated and just need a little time to think things over. And the cookies helped. A lot. You’re the bestest friend ever.”
“You know what else will help? A night out. Just you, me, and Nick, goofing around. No boy talk, no moping, no worrying, just an obscene amount of shots.”
“I lost my fake ID, remember? Can’t get in.”
“Don’t worry. What do you think Nick’s off doing right now? We’re on it.”
“What do you mean you’re on it?” I laughed. “How did you know I would agree to this? I still haven’t!”
“Please, I knew I’d convince you the second you opened the door. There is a reason I spent all day baking, I know how to get to you.” She winked.
“You manipulative genius,” I said with a mock-shocked expression. “I’m not coming.”
She sniggered. “Then why are you walking towards your closet?”
“Because, closet police, I’d like to change into some nice clothes. It’s good for the morale. And these pajamas are just about ready to disintegrate from overuse.”
“Do you want to borrow my red strappy sandals? They’ll go well with the dress you’re holding.”
“Why would I do that?” I asked defensively. “I don’t need to wear nice shoes to hang around the apartment in a pretty dress.”
---
Two hours later we were in The Dive, a small bar a few miles outside the university that Nick had discovered his freshman year. “It’s a good place to get away from college kids,” he’d said, as though he was a very old man constantly aggravated by the youth.
My fake ID had worked brilliantly, even though it had expired last month. Nick had somehow managed to convince a redheaded senior from his Biometrics class to make me another one for free. I suspected he’d be doing her homework for the rest of the semester, and felt extremely grateful for friends like Nick and Stacey in my life.
The Dive was, to my great relief, not too packed. A few men in business suits were occupying the bar, but other than that and two tables with giggly couples, it was empty. We sat at the booth to the far right next to the dart board that nobody ever used. A waitress came over to us.
“Would you guys like anything to drink before you order?”
“We are here just for drinks, actually,” Nick said politely.
“Actually, can I just look at the appetizers?” I said to make her feel better, but then realized I actually could eat something. Aside from Stacey’s cookies, I hadn’t really eaten in two days.
“I’ll grab the special appetizers menu for you ma’am, be right back,” the waitress said and scurried off.
“So guys,” Stacey began to say, who had thus far been busy fiddling with her phone. She looked up. “Do you want to play Numbers?”
Nick and I both chuckled.
“There is hardly anyone here; women seem to be particularly missing, so you guys have a clear advantage.”
Numbers was a game Stacey and I invented our freshman year. We only ever played it between the three of us, and the rules were pretty straightforward; try to get as many numbers as possible. The three of us would usually separate into different corners of a bar or a party and talk to random strangers – appearance, status, and sometimes even gender did not factor into it – and try to get their numbers. In order to avoid cheating, the second part of the game happened the next day. Nick, Stacey and I would exchange the numbers we had managed to get and then call each one on the list. Nick would call the men, us the women. Then we would be like, “Is this Sally?” to make sure that it was the right person and we weren’t just making it up. When the person responded “Yes,” we’d just make up a fake last name, apologize for calling the wrong number, then put a check mark next to the person. Whoever had the highest count of verified numbers would then be treated to brunch by the other two, and brunch was usually spent laughing about all the tactics and victims involved in the game.
It was fun, but Nick was right, this wasn’t the ideal venue to play the game. We would need a bigger crowd.
“Well, it shouldn’t be a problem anymore,” Stacey said, pointing towards the door. A large crowd that appeared to be celebrating a birthday party walked in. There were at least 40 men and women who seemed to be in their early 20s, wearing goofy hats. The birthday girl was easily identifiable by her glistening tiara and a pink sachet that said “Happy Birthday, Brianna!”
“And I’ll make you a deal, Nick,” Stacey said. “Double points for Brianna’s number.”
I was starting to get excited in spite of myself. This game was always fun, and brunch with the roomies the next morning even more so. I could use some harmless flirting with a bunch of guys.
And then it hit me; I wasn’