“Read it now, because once everyone is seated at this table, there’ll be none of that,” Rose calls as she carries a platter of hot okra over to the table.
I lean over the island, reading the text.
Bryn: Get your cute ass dressed up. I’m picking you up from the house at eight.
I toy with the phone, considering her words. Aubryn Walt’s my best friend, and not a member of my prestigious sorority. She joined a different one. Just as filthy rich as my parents are, hers sent her to the same private school. We met in sixth grade and have been inseparable ever since.
We’re nothing alike.
The most notable difference is the fact that even though we attend the same Charlotte university, Bryn’s never met her parents’ expectations. She doesn’t achieve the Dean’s list grades, she doesn’t run in the expected social circles. She’s decided that when she graduates this year, she’s going to start her own business as a fashion buyer and stylist for the rich and famous, and she’ll be amazing at it.
And she doesn’t need the connections from a sorority network to connect the dots. Everything she’s built for herself, including young, elite client list she already works with, she’s done on her own.
Me, on the other hand? I crumbled under the pressure from my parents to join the sorority that before me, had seldom accepted women of color. They were certain that by becoming a member, I’d cement my mother’s charity connections she’s been making in the community and draw a certain successful path to my future. My grades are perfect. I’m on track to become something my parents will be proud of.
Never mind the fact that I’m still not sure what I want that something to be. I don’t have my future figured out. Hell, I don’t even have tomorrow figured out. I just know I’ve always done exactly what I’m expected to do: rise to the top.
My fingers are a flurry as I text Bryn back.
B…it’s Thursday night. I have an early class tomorrow morning.
Her reply is quick and true to Bryn form.
U worry too much for a college senior…I’ll have you back in plenty of time for your beauty rest.
I sigh. Bryn isn’t going to let up on this. I know my bestie well enough. This is happening. Whether she breezes in here to drag me out for some fun, or I do it, I’m getting pulled into her little BMW whether I like it or not.
And let’s face it. Of the two choices: staying in my room all night listening to music by myself like a hermit, or going out with my best friend?
Option B all the way.
I’m waiting for Bryn out in front of my house. I can hear her coming, the solid bass of her insanely expensive sound system tearing up the air as her car cuts a speedy path up the pavement. Her tires squeal when she reaches me, and she lowers the passenger side window on the outrageous, candy-apple red coupe.
“Get in, bitch!” she screams, punctuating each word with a hand clap.
Rolling my eyes at the same time I grin, because I can’t help it when it comes to Bryn, I slide into the smooth leather of the passenger seat.
“If you wreck us tonight, I’ll never forgive you.” I shout to be heard over the sound of Panic At The Disco. She’s cranked it up, because she knows it’s one of the few bands she loves that I don’t vehemently object to.
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not driving. We’re heading to my apartment, and then Jaxon and Noah will pick us up.”
I throw my head back onto the headrest.
We met Noah Loche freshman year. But, since this past spring, he’s been a little more than a fiend. We crossed a line at a party, making out for an entire night and that’s all the motivation Noah needed to call us a couple. Noah’s an arrogant fraternity boy, but he calls it confidence. I deal with it because he has a family from hell and there’s no way a kid doesn’t turn out a little worse for the wear when growing up with people like that in his home. Noah’s under constant pressure from his dad to succeed, and I empathize with that. My parents aren’t outright pricks the way Noah’s are, but there’s always been an understanding that I wouldn’t defer from the path laid out for me.
He picks me up, and we hang out sometimes. I’m by no means in love with the boy, but I’ve known him for so long there’s history there. And it’s hard to forget history.
Bryn and Jaxon are another story. They’re a solid couple and have been since high school. Now that we’re getting close to college graduation, they’re talking seriously about their future.
Bryn scans my outfit. Short, strapless and black. Black ankle high-heeled boots to go with the slashing pattern on the top lends a little edge to the shoes, something Bryn would have never chosen for herself. It’s also something I’d never wear during the day or in front of my parents.
Her pink-painted lips curve into a smile. “Ny, you look hot.”
Despite myself, I smile with satisfaction. “Thanks. You always look gorge, B.”
She smiles, and without even glancing in the rearview mirror, swings us around backward, turning a perfect three-sixty in the street before propelling the little car forward and down the drive.
It takes me less than a second to strap myself into my seatbelt, and then I sit back and hang on for the ride.
We pull up to Bryn’s place, a big brownstone apartment building not too far from campus. She lives about three minutes from me, and we’re less than a five-minute drive to Uptown Charlotte. At this time of day, when the sun has just sunk below the horizon and night sprinkles stars over the city, the Charlotte skyline is radiant in the near distance. When I step out of Bryn’s BMW, I note
