Paige Harbison - Anything to Have You

“Shots? Eee...I don’t know...”

I remembered all too well the feeling of throwing up after too much liquor. I had been part of the group when we were freshmen and sophomores. We had mostly gone to the movies or gotten dropped off at the mall to go shopping—I was usually tagging along, never having much money—or we had sleepovers. It wasn’t until the end of sophomore year when Brooke had gotten hold of a few bottles of wine that things started to change. Then it was a hop, skip and a jump to the big parties they were still into.

That unfortunate night with Reed, I had done shots.

“Just one!” Alexa insisted.

“Um—” I didn’t know how to get out of it. I lacked the ability to put my foot down, like I knew I should. I had an incessant need to please people, but almost none of the wherewithal to do so.

“Natalieeeee!” said Brooke, coming up to us. She had taken off her coat and was wearing a tight red tank top with a black bra. Her necklace dangled scandalously between her boobs.

She grabbed me by the shoulders. “Natalie is letting me be her party godmother this year. Which means she’s actually going to have some fun and stop sitting at home all the time.”

“Sick! We’re going to have such a blast! The rest of this year is going to be insane. I mean, how could it not be? We already got accepted to schools for next year, so who gives a fuck?”

There was a whoop from the people around us. Brooke ambled away again.

My cheeks went slightly hot, and I wanted to make sure no one tried to ask me about my plans.

“You’re going to Arizona, right?” I asked Alexa, recalling what Brooke had told me. One of my few skills was remembering details about people. This would be great if I actually knew any of them well anymore and could come off more like a good friend and less like a stalker.

“Yes! I’m ready to bake in the sun. I can’t stand this cold weather. My aunt lives out there and absolutely loves it. I’ve heard people either love it or hate it there. I hope I love it, ya know?”

“Oh, I’m sure you will. And hey, if you don’t, you can always soak up a good base tan and a few credits and go somewhere else, right?”

She smiled at me, looking like that somehow actually made her feel better. “Exactly. Exactly! You’re totally right, Natalie. That’s how I need to look at it.”

I basked in the glow of her approval and became suddenly desperate for more. “Okay, let’s do a shot.”

She squealed and pulled me over to the counter, where Brooke had gone to squeal with a girl named Bethany, who I had always disliked. For almost no reason—she just bugged me.

“Brookie! Natalie said she’d do a shot!”

Brooke looked surprised, but she smiled. “That’s my girl!”

It was kind of funny to see Brooke in her element. I was used to slightly dopey Brooke, who was a little off the wall and could always crack me up or unselfconsciously pull an ugly face. But here she was, her hair swooshed to one shoulder, confidently chatting with the people around her while she poured vodka into a shaker with ice and whatever else. She really was good at the whole “being the queen” thing.

She had that smile that looked real every time. She sounded interested, surprised, shocked, or however it was you wanted her to sound when you told her something. She made the people around her feel interesting, funny or attractive, and all the while it was clear that she was the most interesting, funny and attractive person in the room.

I came off as the opposite. I didn’t want to take a shot, so I immediately felt like the prude. Which sucked. Because honestly, I simply didn’t want to.

When I talked to people, I felt like I could never think of the right response or anything clever to say. I was fine with people I really knew. Smart, and even funny sometimes. But with strangers or acquaintances, I was a mess.

“Ready?” asked Brooke, handing me my first two ounces of regret. “It’s not that bad, I promise.”

“To senior freaking year!” screamed Alexa. Everyone cheered.

I took the shot and was unable to play it cool, reaching for something, anything, else to shoot back afterward, but there was nothing. I became the unwilling center of attention as everyone around me, clearly unfazed by the sting, laughed or looked at me like I was their little sister or something. Someone even went, “Aww!”

“Oh, God, was it really that bad for you?” Brooke hugged me. “I’m so sorry, Nat. Whoo!” She widened her eyes. “All right, that’ll probably do you for a while. I wanna play darts, come play with me!”

She grabbed me by the hand and dragged me through the party, and up onto the stage that is her life.

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