When rehearsal is over, Tabitha bounds down from the stage.

“Hey, Katrina, you still in for tonight?” Her gaze flits over to Willa. “Hi, I’m Tabitha.”

“Sorry. Tabitha this is Willa, she’s a screenwriting major too.”

“Well, you both should come out tonight. I just need to swing by my place and change.”

Willa stands. “I’m out. I’ve gotta work tonight.”

“Katrina?”

“Oh, I…”

Willa nudges me. “Go. You have to go.”

She’s right, but I’m suddenly more nervous than I anticipated. “Okay, yeah, I’m in.”

Willa’s excitement is far greater than mine as we pack up and follow Tabitha out of the theater. She knows how seldom I go out and I’m sure Monday I’ll be under intense scrutiny to get every detail.

“Have fun. Get drunk, kiss boys or girls… just kiss someone.” She purses her dark purple lips and kisses the air.

“I really don’t think that’s going to happen.” I huff a nervous laugh, but the excitement of the unknown makes butterflies dance in my stomach.

“See you later.” Willa waves. “Nice to meet you, Tabitha.”

Tabitha returns the wave and then turns to me. “Why don’t you follow me to my place and we can pre-game and then catch a ride with Brody to the party. He takes longer to get ready than anyone I know so we should have plenty of time for a drink or two.”

This slightly embarrassing dirt on Brody somehow puts me at ease and a drink before walking into my first college party sounds great.

Tabitha’s apartment is just a few blocks from campus. It’s smaller than the place I rent for me and Christian, but I’m still jealous as I take in her cute décor – white couch, light pink throw pillows. The thought of a white couch anywhere near my son makes me cringe. And the toys and kid stuff that always seems to make its way to the living room no matter how many times I tell him to put it in his room doesn’t make for a very chic space.

“What do you want to drink? I’ve got wine, tequila, vodka, rum, a bunch of mixers.”

“Whatever you’re having is fine. I just need to make a phone call real quick.”

“You’re not bailing on me already, are you?”

I shake my head. “I have to call and check in on my son.”

“Get out, you have a kid?”

“Yep,” I say, and she doesn’t look surprised or weirded out, anything really. Just accepting. “A son, Christian. He’s three.”

“Well, call him, do what you need to do. I’m going to pour us two very strong glasses of rum and diet.”

She pours the drinks as I settle on to her couch. Dropping my glass down on the side table, she carries hers toward an open door I assume leads to her bedroom. “I’m gonna change. Holler when you’re done. I want to hear your story, Katrina Phillips.”

I take a small sip of the rum and diet. I can’t remember if I’ve had rum before, but I’m pleased to discover I don’t hate it. Pressing send, I take a larger gulp hoping it’ll ease my nerves. Nadine answers on the second ring. “Hi, Katrina. Christian was just asking about you. Well, you know before he darted off to the next thing that caught his attention.”