Page 1 of Run Baby Run

My phone rings, snapping me out of the best and weirdest daydream I have ever experienced.

Blowing out a breath, I answer the call and hold the phone up to my ear, already anticipating the loud squeals from my best friend. The sound immediately comes through, the high-pitched voice I know so well ringing out from the tiny speaker.

“Girl, tonight we are getting drunk!” Molly sings in her signature bubbly tone.

Yeah, just as expected, I will need a fucking hearing aid before I turn thirty at this rate. Oh, I love her!

“Can’t wait! I’m packing my bag as we speak. Do you need me to bring anything?” I ask, grabbing some clothes and stuffing them in my overnight bag while mentally checking off the items on my list.

PJs, check. Underwear, check. Toothbrush, check… Ah! Remember to pack your charger this time. Oh, and aspirin!

“Nope, I got the booze, and I will order the pizza as soon as you get your ass to my place,” she hums. I hear clinking glass overthe phone as she sets out everything for our night, giving me a nervous but excited feeling for tonight.

Girls’ night with my bestie has been long overdue. Wayyy too long!

Molly never jokes around regarding alcohol, and honestly, neither do I. We have been best friends since we met at Joel’s nightclub a year ago. It was his club’s launch and truly an amazing night, although I don’t remember half of it. I blame Joel and his half-price shots.

My cousin outdid himself with the selection of themed drinks and the décor that night. His club, Hell’s Playground, has a dark, eerie vibe, but as soon as the dancefloor fills up, it becomes electric.

My cousin knows how to make people have an enjoyable time. Joel has an elusive, cocky personality, but he has always been the life of the party. It makes sense that he would open a club in the middle of one of the busiest cities.

His demeanor is always dripping with mystery, and the ladies love that. Even Molly has had a crush on him since I introduced them at his opening. I get why—although, to me, it’s cringy to think about… I guess Joel is a good-looking guy, but he is my cousin, and, in my eyes, he’s like a troll with good hair.

I walk up to Molly’s front door with my bag hung over my shoulder, and she yanks it open before I have a chance to knock.

“Took you long enough!” she hisses sarcastically as she pulls me inside with an unmistakably evil smile and slams the door shut behind us.

“Woah! I’m only like ten minutes late, M. The traffic is fucking terrible on the way to your place. Tell me again why you decided to move to an apartment in the middle of the city?” I laugh while tossing my bag onto the stool beside the tiny kitchen island.

She giggles and shakes her head, strands of amber hair falling from her messy bun as she steps closer to hug me tightly.

How does her hair still look good in the messiest bun ever? She probably hasn’t brushed it in days, yet it looks amazing. She’s one of the lucky bitches who never experience bad hair days.

I watch her as she opens the fridge and grabs the ice-cold bottle of tequila while twirling a strand of my hair in my fingers.

Hair jealousy is real right now...

My hair is a chocolaty brown, and I recently bleached my face-framing layers to a white-blonde shade. It suits me; it fits my adventurous personality. I wish my job would let me dye it a crazy bright color.

“Hey, Earth to Alex! Are you listening to me?” Molly yells from the living room as she places two shot glasses on the coffee table, already filled to the brim with tequila.

“Fuck, sorry… What were you saying? I was thinking about work stuff,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck and flashing her a smile.

She rolls her eyes with an exaggerated sigh. “Never mind. Here, drink and stop thinking about work.” She holds out the tiny glass and waits as I approach the sofa. I plop down next to her and take the glass from her. “Yes, ma’am,” I joke as I look into her serious eyes before lifting it and swallowing down the entirety.

A rush of warmth spreads through my body from the tequila. We go through two more shots and then decide to move on to beers as we sink deeper into the couch. Our laughter fills the apartment, and conversation flows like liquid from our lips. We talk about our upcoming plans, gossip about people we know, and even laugh about some of our most embarrassing memories.

Hours tick by until it’s well past midnight. We both have work in the morning and continuously steal glances at the clock on the wall but refuse to give in and call it a night just yet. Molly reaches for her phone and turns on some music—a mixture of rap and alternative rock streams from the wireless speakers beside her TV. We both laugh as we start to sing along, probably sounding like nails on a chalkboard but too drunk to care.

We simultaneously jump to our feet and start dancing around her living room, spinning in circles and singing the lyrics with so much passion.

Shit… Molly’s poor neighbors. I hope they don’t call the cops on us.

Molly looks at me with a mischievous smirk and points toward the kitchen. “I want a cocktail! Grab the bottle of vodka from the fridge. I wanna make something fancy.”

She sings as she twirls around the room, and I rush to the fridge. We laugh loudly as we mix our drinks on the coffee table like a science experiment, clinking glasses when we finish our concoction.

Molly eyes me as we both take a sip. In unison, disgust morphs our features, and I almost barf as the thick alcoholic mixture slides down my throat when I am finally able to compose myself and swallow.

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