Page 3 of The Immortal's One
I snort. “Aren’t you supposed toliketalking to your boyfriend?”
“I do, but Josh can be a stick in the mud sometimes.” Kayla winces at the unflattering description of her boyfriend, then drops her hands into her lap, eyes still pleading. “You’re my best friend, Darcie. We’d have so much fun together.”
I’m not so sure.
“How do you even plan to get into a club?” I cross my arms. “We aren’t twenty-one.”
“You’re almost twenty-one.”
“Not for a month.”
A Cheshire grin pulls Kayla’s lips. “Well, then it’s lucky that I have…” She hops up from her seat and rushes to the entryway where she left her overstuffed purse.
I bite into a crispy spring roll, savoring the rich flavor as the sound of her rummaging through the bag echoes into the kitchen. Moments later, she rushes back in, holding something up and exclaiming, “These!”
Kayla shoves two laminated cards in my face. I take them, flipping them over to reveal our faces beside names that aren’t ours.
My jaw drops. “What are you doing with these?”
“Don’t look so surprised, Darcie,” she laughs, swiping the cards from my hands. “Everyone at St. Phillip’s uses fake IDs. It’s no big deal.”
Except it is.
“Your parents will kill you if they find out you have a fake ID to drink booze.”
“I’m not going to use it to drink.” Her lips press into a hard line. “They’re just to get us into clubs for the next few months. Once we’re both twenty-one, I’ll destroy them. Seriously, Darcie, everyone I know has one.”
I rub my eyes, taking a deep breath.
I love Kayla—I really do. She was my champion when we were kids. She stood up to the trio of mean girls who tried to humiliate me on my first day of school for wearing a cardigan stained with tomato sauce, and she threw a dodgeball at Chris Walter’s junk during P.E. after he made fun of my braces.
Kayla’s been there for me through thick and thin, and I trust her. But sometimes, she can be a little too impulsive.
I’ve acted as the voice of reason, saving us from trouble more times than I can count. I attempt to do it one more time. “Have you thought about what will happen if a bouncer realizes we have fake IDs?”
She shrugs. “They would just confiscate them.”
“That’s if they are being nice. Most clubs have security, and they could detain us while they call the cops.”
“Darcie.” Kayla’s expression shifts to something more serious. “Come on. It’s not that big of a deal. You need to let loose. We’re supposed to have fun in our twenties. And you, like… never have fun.Ever.”
That’s not true.
“And before you tell me that’s not true,” Kayla continues as if reading my mind, “need I remind you that you just told me youdidn’tspend your time in Greece enjoying the beautiful weather and gorgeous sea? You, my friend, need to stop acting like a middle-aged professor and live a little. You’re not your dad.”
The dig stings, but I can’t drum up any anger. Kayla is right.
I stare at my longest friend and release a heavy sigh.
Going to a club isn’t my idea of a good time. Throw in the fact that I’ll be breaking the law, and I’m even less inclined to go. But Kayla’s comments ring in my head.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve played it safe. I never wanted to add stress to my dad’s plate. I’ve missed out on so many experiences.
Like going to Greece when I could’ve stayed in the States to start college…
On paper, a trip to Greece should’ve been an unforgettable experience, one I didn’t want to miss out on. But spending my days buried in dusty libraries or overheated lecture halls hardly matches the vibrant Grecian adventure others might have imagined.
The realization is all the motivation I need to overcome my instinct and say, “Fine. I’ll go.”
