Page 8 of The Riley Effect

She stops in my doorway and presses her hands against either side of the opening. Her eyes drag from the pile of clothes on the floor to me.

“What’s wrong?” She asks through a muffled laugh.

“I have no idea what to wear tonight.”

She starts rummaging through my closet, picking through endless pairs of mom jeans and NBA graphic tees. Lola’s nearly through the options left hanging in my closet when she pauses and starts tapping her pointer finger to her chin. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone do that in real life. It makes her look like some kind of evil villain hatching a plan to take over the world. Or trying to get me laid.

Her eyes are drawn to the back of my closet, where the few dresses I own live. As she holds each one in front of her, I veto it, and it gets tossed to the floor with the others. We repeat this process until all the dresses I own are on my bedroom floor.

“Arriving in your bra and underwear is bold,” she taunts me. “just going to dive head first into your partying era.”

I’m already out of my comfort zone going to this party, so if I’m going, I’m wearing something I feel confident in.

My phone pings, and I glance down to where it’s lying on my bed. It’s just an Instagram notification, so I ignore it because if I don’t find an outfit in the next twenty minutes, Indy is going to rip me a new one.

When I look back toward my closet, Lola has pulled out my favorite pair of camouflage cargo pants and pairs it with a low-cut bodysuit. I love the outfit, but I’m nervous it’s going to be too casual compared to the outfits my teammates sent in our group chat.

“Are you sure this is fine?”

“I want you to enjoy yourself tonight, and you won’t do that if you’re tugging on the hem of your dress all night. Plus, since when do you want to be like everyone else?”

I put up a good front, but I care what people think about me. Growing up, I was teased for being raised by my sister, and while their kids made jokes at my expense, the parents took pity on me. Making it known how hard they thought Ruby and my lives must have been. It’s better now, but sometimes my insecurities cause me to be anxious in social settings. I have panic attacks when I’m stressed or overworked. During years of therapy, I’ve gained all the tools to try and nip them in the bud. Luckily, they work…most of the time.

Lola lays the outfit on my bed to free her arms. Her newly empty arms wrap around me, squeezing me tight. I can always trust my girls to remind me of who I am when I’m tempted to follow the crowd. Everyone deserves to have a Lola in their corner.

“I guess you have a point there,” I place an exaggerated kiss on the top of my tiny friend’s head.

Running my fingers over the Lola-approved outfit, a surge of confidence runs through me. It’s quickly taken over by a voice in my head telling me I’m being selfish. That I should get a headstart on next week’s lab reports, but I push that thought back. Maybe everyone is right, and I should let myself have some fun.

I sit at my desk and pull out my makeup bag. When I glance back to my bedroom door, Lola is standing there with a goofy grin plastered on her face. I return it with a thankful one.

“Have fun tonight, Vee. You deserve to enjoy your senior year.”

“Shots!”

What the fuck did I get myself into tonight? At the bottom of the stairs—tequila bottle in hand— is Indy with a sinister smile, making me think I might regret promising to have a couple drinks with her before we head to the hockey house.

Indy has all the fixings for a proper tequila shot lined up on our kitchen counter. I hold my empty shot glass to Indy. A waterfall of amber liquid flows into my glass, and my body warms with anticipation. I set down my shot to pour salt on the area between my thumb and forefinger, waiting for my roommates to do the same. Once they’re ready, we lick the salt off our hands, down the shot, and suck the lime.

“I’ll meet you at Marcus’ after the party opens up,” Lola reminds us with a puckered face.

“He said you could come with us if you want. Are you sure you want to wait?”

“It’s fine. I promised some friends I’d meet them for drinks at Jasper’s.”

A small piece of me is jealous of Lola because the few times a semester I do go out, it’s always to Jasper’s. It’s always filled with crowded booths and a packed dance floor. A place you can always count on for a good time. I’d rather have a few fun nightsout with my friends that come with a satisfaction guarantee than stringing a bunch of mediocre weekends together.

“But don’t worry, I’ll be there. Do you really think I’d miss Ivy’s first house party?” she jokes.

I shake my head. “It’s not my first house party,” I responded wryly. “I just have priorities that are bigger than partying.”

The thought of my family sobers me up a little too much for my liking. Tonight’s about me letting loose.

“Let’s take another shot,” I suggest. “I’m ready to have some fun this year.”

6

Ivy

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