Page 30 of Alice & Meg, Girls Trip

“And mayo,” I pointed out with a smirk.

Meg shrugged, clearly unapologetic. “I suppose.”

“It’s good!” Cyn called out from across the campfire, her voice full of conviction. “Trust me, you’ll be shoving some in your pockets to save for later.”

Greta groaned, a playful smile on her face. “That was one time, and I didn’t know what else to do! Don’t you throw that in my face.”

Meg and Cyn busted out laughing, the sound echoing in the quiet night. Their laughter was infectious, and soon, I found myself grinning along with them.

“Okay, I need to know the story behind this one,” I said, leaning forward, eager for the tale.

Greta sighed, but there was a sparkle in her eye as she began. “Alright, alright. So, this was a few years back at one of the club parties. You know how it goes—drinks were flowing, and the food was just as abundant.”

I nodded, imagining the scene. Club parties were always fun, with enough food and booze to feed an army.

“Well,” Greta continued, “I had a plate full of food, but there was still more I wanted to try. But you know how it is, trying to juggle a drink, a full plate, and still mingle with everyone. I ran out of space on my plate, and my hands were full.”

“So what did you do?” I asked, already laughing at where this was headed.

Greta grinned sheepishly. “I spotted a pile of napkins nearby and thought, ‘Why not?’ I grabbed a napkin, loaded some of Meg’s macaroni salad into it, and then... well, I shoved it in my pocket.”

The group burst out laughing, the image of Greta sneaking macaroni salad into her pocket too funny to resist.

“Did it survive till you sat down?” I managed to ask between giggles.

“Not quite,” Greta admitted, her cheeks flushing. “I forgot about it until I went to the bathroom and found a soggy mess in my pocket. It was... not my finest moment.”

Cyn was practically in tears from laughing so hard. “I went in the bathroom after you, and there were three splotches of macaroni salad next to the toilet.”

“I tried to clean it up,” Greta insisted. “It just kept falling out of my pocket.”

“I was flattered that you liked my macaroni salad so much that you wanted to save it for later,” Meg giggled. “Just next time, I promise I’ll get you a container.”

Greta shook her head, laughing along with us. “Never again,” she promised. “I’ll just come back for seconds if I can’t fit it on my plate.”

“Oh, the stories we have,” Meg sighed. She wiped a lone tear from her cheek. “We could sit out here all night and not be able to tell them all.”

Greta held up her hands and stood. “And that is my cue to go to bed because I know half of those stories are going to be about me and Luna.”

“Come on,” Meg called. “You can’t go to bed now. We old folks are still awake.”

Greta flipped her hood up and wrapped her arms around herself. “Maybe you old fogies are onto something going to bed early. I’ll give it a try.”

Meg suddenly glanced at her phone, her eyes widening in surprise. “Oh, lord,” she gasped, breaking the comfortable silence. “It’s almost midnight. How did it get that late?”

I looked over at her, a bit surprised myself. Time had a funny way of slipping away when we were all together.

“What do you think would happen to me if I just slept in my chair?” Lennox moaned, her voice heavy with exhaustion. She looked like she could barely keep her eyes open, her head resting against the back of her chair. “I’m too tired to move.”

Meg chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I think you’ll get eaten alive by mosquitoes,” she teased. Then, with a sympathetic smile, she stood up and held her hand out to Lennox. “Come on, lil’ mama, let’s get you to bed.”

Lennox groaned but took Meg’s hand, allowing herself to be pulled out of the chair. She wobbled a little, and Meg steadied her with a gentle hand on her back.

“Ugh, you’re right,” Lennox admitted, rubbing her eyes. “I can feel them already coming to suck my blood.”

“We don’t need you turning into a midnight snack,” I added with a grin, pushing myself up from my chair as well. The night air was cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the fire. I felt a wave of contentment wash over me, the kind that only came after a day well spent.

The others started to follow suit, stretching and yawning as they prepared to head to bed. Cyn and Greta exchanged knowing looks, both clearly just as tired as the rest of us.

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