Page 38 of Notes About Vodka

As we scroll through more photos, the memories keep pouring out.

We find more pictures from the Halloween right after my surgeries—the three of us standing in the hallway of our dorm, me in the wheelchair. But instead of looking weak or sick, I’m grinning from ear to ear, my chair decked out in LED lights and makeshift roller skates taped to the wheels.

“Remember how we decided my wheelchair needed an upgrade?” I say, a genuine smile tugging at my lips for the first time in hours.

“Of course!” Skipper laughs. “We turned you into the coolest roller disco queen ever. You were wheeling around the entire campus like a pro.”

“You even won the costume contest!” Rhea adds. “No one else stood a chance.”

I laugh, feeling a warm rush of affection for both of them. They’d been there for me, even when things got rough. When the spinal meningitis hit, when I needed the surgeries, and I was in and out of the hospital, Rhea and Skipper never left my side. I remember them sneaking in fast food and blasting 80s rock ballads in my hospital room just to see me smile.

“Those were some crazy times,” I murmur, leaning into Skipper’s shoulder. “But I don’t think I would’ve made it through without you guys.”

Rhea reaches over and squeezes my hand, her eyes soft with empathy. "We wouldn’t have had it any other way. We’re family. And that means everything to us."

We continue scrolling, and soon we land on a picture of Rhea, post-breakup, red-eyed but smiling, with the remnants of a cake fight smeared on her face. I remember that night clearly—how we all piled into my dorm room after her boyfriend dumped her. We made a pact to drown her sorrows in cake and bad movies, and it somehow turned into a frosting war.

“You guys were my lifesavers,” Rhea says softly, staring at the photo. “I was so heartbroken, but you made me feel loved. Made me feel like I wasn’t alone.”

I smile, squeezing her hand back. “You’re never alone with us.”

And then we come across a photo of Skipper from that summer when he finally came out. It’s the three of us again, this time at the beach. Skipper is standing between us with a wide grin, holding a rainbow flag. I remember the awkward but liberating moment when he told us he wasn’t actually into his ex-fiance Victoria but had been crushing on her brother Blaine the entire time.

“Ah, the Blaine saga,” Skipper groans, shaking his head. “I still can’t believe I confessed that to you guys. You didn’t make it any easier with all the jokes afterward.”

“We had to!” Rhea laughs. “I mean, we spent months thinking you were madly in love with Victoria when really, you were just trying to get closer to her brother. The plot twist was too good not to tease you about it.”

“Hey, it was a complicated time!” Skipper defends himself, but he’s smiling too. “Besides, you guys were the first people I came out to, and that meant a lot.”

“We know, Skip,” I say, pulling him into a side hug. “And we’re proud of you. Always.”

As we sit there, flipping through photos and reliving our past, I feel a warmth spreading through my chest—a comforting reassurance that no matter what happens, I have Rhea and Skipper by my side. We’ve been through so much together—heartbreaks, health scares, awkward confessions, and more than a few disastrous parties. And through it all, we’ve always had each other.

Maybe that’s why it’s so hard to think about opening up to Val. He hasn’t been there for all these moments, hasn’t seen thehighs and lows that have shaped me. But maybe, just maybe, letting him in is worth the risk, even if he doesn't know all the little pieces of who I am yet.

But as I look at my friends, I realize that maybe it’s worth letting him in. If only a little bit.

“We’ve had quite the journey, haven’t we?” I whisper, feeling a mix of nostalgia and gratitude.

“Damn right, we have,” Rhea agrees, raising her mimosa. “To us, survivors of bad breakups, wild parties, and everything in between.”

“To us,” Skipper and I echo, clinking our glasses together.

As we toast, I feel a weight lifting off my shoulders. Whatever happens next, I know I’m not alone. And that’s more than enough for now.

Chapter Thirteen

VAL

“I think my favorite way to enjoy vodka is with freshly squeezed grapefruit juice over ice.

Basically, a greyhound.”

After kissing Laura at her door, I can't stop thinking about her.

She's taken up space in my mind since I first heard her voice, and I don't want her to leave. There’s this constant hum, this pull, like gravity.

I’m falling. Hard. Is this what being in love is like?

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