Memory Lane

Chapter Twenty Four

So, this is actually going to be a THREE parter because I do not know how to make anything short lol. The good news, you can be expecting another update on a surprise day next week ;)

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"You've got to love what's loveable, and hate what's hateable. It takes brains to see the difference." - Robert Frost

Memory Lane: Chapter Twenty Four

Once Jesse and I fill our cups, we join the others who are still mingling around the bright orange cooler. As more people make their way into the party and the cooler becomes crowded with teenagers dying to get drunk, the five of us make our way into the main room to stand around and chat. 

Many houses in Bennington are clearly historic or built somewhere around a century ago, but Steven's house does not fit that mold. Since he's a little bit outside of the main part of town, I think his house was built more recently and the interior helps that theory. It's more modern than most of our classmates houses.

I've kept a watchful eye on Jesse to make sure he hasn't become too uncomfortable, but much to my relief, he doesn't seem to be. We've only been here for about thirty minutes, but his level of comfort has greatly improved since the start. I think standing with just our group helps with that.

Allen has his arm comfortably around Kendall, who tucks perfectly into his side despite their massive height difference. Sometimes, I can't get over how cute they are. I don't think high school sweethearts are common in modern day, but I have no doubt that those two will make it.

"For his first party," Quinn says distastefully, "I'm not impressed with the drinks Steven made."

I chuckle, sipping my root beer. "He did say that they messed up the ratio of alcohol to juice."

"Clearly."

"I think I'd prefer the spiked kombucha from Quinn's Uncle..." Kendall says sheepishly.

"Is it that bad?" I ask.

"It tastes like straight vodka with a hint of watermelon. Even you'd be able to realize that it isn't normal juice."

My face drops to a scowl at Kendall's teasing, recalling the first party I attended where I got drunk completely by accident. It pulls a snort from Jesse as he takes a sip of his root beer, smirking at me from over the rim of his cup.

"In my defense, back in Wallingford the parties were mostly BYOB. People always brought beer or seltzers. There was never jungle juice," I mumble.

Jesse quirks a brow. "After you told me the root beer story, I guess I shouldn't be too surprised. It sounds like you don't have the best radar for alcohol."

My eye roll is almost a reflex to Jesse's constant teasing at this point. So is the small smile that comes with it.

"I don't know what the root beer story is, but trust me. Anyone with taste buds would be able to tell that this has cheap vodka in it," Quinn says.

Kendall nods, staring into her cup. "I'm not sure which is better. Beer or this stuff. I mean it's hardly even red. More of a sad, light pink."

"You know, we're all way too young to be this picky over alcohol," I laugh. "I think it's supposed to be a 'get what you get and just drink it' kind of situation before you're 21."

"Or," Allen reasons as he readjusts his glasses, "we could consider it a really good thing that we don't like the taste of any alcohol."

Kendall nods, "That's true. The more you like it, the more likely you are to drink on a regular basis."