Abby Ryan has her whole life planned out, up until graduation that is. As a journalism student at the University of Southern Washington, she has one goal in mind for her last semester of senior year: secure a scholarship for graduate school. But whe...
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We've been in Vegas for less than an hour, and I'm already drunk.
When Nia said we were going hard for our senior year spring break, I didn't exactly know what she meant, but when she poured us five shots of vodka each, I quickly realized that she had absolutely no intention of us being sober for the remainder of the day.
I downed the first four shots fine, but I messed up on the fifth and couldn't seem to swallow no matter how hard I tried. I ended up almost spitting out the shot until I caught Nia's eye, and she gave me the if you spit that out, I will literally kill you and bring you back to life to take two more shots look that she always gives me whenever it happens. The liquor burned like hell when it finally went down, and I chugged an entire juice box after since it was the only non-alcoholic thing I could find in our room. The warmth spread through me almost instantly as I fell onto the single king-sized bed.
I'm pretty sure half of Pullman was on our plane here. When we boarded, I was planning on sitting with the rest of the students in the front of the plane, but when Tristan took my suitcase and loaded it into the overhead bin next to his in the back with the rest of his teammates, I didn't argue. James looked over at his coach, who was staring at us with an apathetic scowl, and when James turned back, he took Jenny's suitcase and did the same.
We were barely settled into our seats when their coach ambled forward and booted James and Jenny to the row behind us, though. He made Luke sit next to Tristan and me instead, mumbling something about needing to separate him from Micah "for the safety of this entire aircraft." All he had to do was point to the seat beside me, and Luke dropped into it without argument. I think it had something to do with the near-feral gleam in his eye that clearly said, fucking try me, McConnell, I'm not in the mood.
I sat between Tristan and Luke for the entire flight, which would have been fine if I could have just melted into Tristan's arms and read my book while he napped, but I could tell by Luke's constant attempts at conversation that, while he'd never admit it, he's a nervous flyer. We talked about the most random things, and I'd be willing to bet that he spent his entire night watching The Hangover because I've never in my life heard someone slip so many movie quotes into a single conversation with such ease. Every time he managed to do it, his lips quirked up as if he was waiting for me to realize, and whenever I did, I always laughed because as ridiculous and immature as it is, The Hangover is my favorite comedy too.
When we landed and shuttled to the hotel, it was apparent that their coach had no intention of letting them relax until after the game tomorrow. Tristan barely had time to press a quick kiss to my lips before getting yelled at to get in line so his coach could give out room assignments.
Nia had pulled Jenny and me into the elevators before I could catch Tristan's room number, but it doesn't even matter because according to the itinerary that Nia made for us, the entirety of today is a dedicated girls' day—meaning no boyfriends or situationships allowed.
