“Bridget Fifan!” One of the college boys, a tall, slender black guy, stood up from the bonfire he was stoking. He definitely had the aura and swagger of someone older. He approached Bree, giving her a high five. I stood back, apprehensive.

“What is up, my sista?”

“Keepin’ it real, Jamal!” said Bree. “Allow me to introduce my friend, Andi. Andi? Jamal.” She pointed to some of the other college kids. The guys were all shirtless, and the girls were all in string bikinis. Bree had talked me into finally wearing my bikini as well, the wide-banded grape-colored one, but it was downright modest compared to what the college girls were wearing and it was currently hidden under my big baggy t-shirt.

“And that’s Tyler, Skylar, Saoirse, Kigawe, Miracle, Melanie, Steve, Ta-Nehisi and Ryan.”

I waved awkwardly. A couple waved back, but most of them stayed focused on the bonfire they were dousing in lighter fluid.

“It’s been forever, girl!” said Jamal to Bree. “Come sit, make yourself at home! Mi casa es su casa. And hey.” He reached into a large blue cooler by the fire and pulled out a metallic bag that looked like a Capri Sun. “Can I interest you ladies in a… wine cooler?”

“F’sho!” said Bree, snatching it hungrily. Jamal tossed one to me before I had the opportunity to respond. Oh crap. Now I really felt in over my head. Except for having snuck a sip of my parents’ Bud Light Lime once or twice, I’d never even tried alcohol! And to have a whole wine cooler to myself? I didn’t want to look uncool in front of Bree’s college friends, but I felt so out of my league!

And something in me told me Riley wouldn’t want me to drink it.

I scoffed. Riley, of all people? Why did I care what Riley thought about whether I had a couple of wine coolers? He was just some weird guy I barely knew. Really, we’d barely even spoken.

Then why does he consume your thoughts?

I ripped the tiny straw off of the baggie, peeled off its plastic casing and jammed it into the beverage, droplets of inebriating sweetness popping out. “Thank you, Jamal,” I said. I wasn’t about to let what Riley thought—no, what I thought Riley would think about this party—dictate what I would and wouldn’t do. “For real.”

One wine cooler became two. Bree was having a high old time, regaling the college kids with stories about her trip to Brazil with a women’s literacy group, but I kept to myself, sipping on my straw, trying not to think of Riley.

“Hey, you alright?” asked Bree, taking a break from showing her friends the pictures of some of the kids she’d taught on her phone.

I took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Fine!” I said.