The Girl Who Wrote The Dating Manual

christmas 2015 special

Jaime Parish was famous for her extravagant parties.

And I don't just mean keggers with loud dubstep that makes your ears bleed. I mean proper parties, which, even if it had been without cheap booze, probably would have attracted even the most popular crowd of college students.

Despite the fact she was two years above, Ava had managed to score us an invite to the party, which, while not exclusive, was not normally attended to by freshman. But Ava, with her quick wit and sultry voice, had managed to talk Jaime's boyfriend into extending us an invite.

I wasn't really a party girl, but I'd heard legendary things about Jaime's parties, and was eager to see what had garnered her such a high reputation.

So two days before Christmas Ava and I decked out in our most party gear (complete with Santa hats, naturally), and made our way to the sorority house at Hamilton campus. Already we could see strobe lights flashing across the lawn and hear the dull thrum of the bass reverberating through the ground.

Ava jiggled excitedly next to me, like a kid on Christmas morning. She linked her arm through mine and squeezed tightly. "Isn't this exciting?"

"Sure is," I replied, looking at the large structure, with its brown stone and colonial windows. I had no idea how one made it into a sorority, but I had a feeling it was a place I'd never belong in. Ava, however, seemed in her element.

"Apparently you haven't lived the true Hamilton experience until you've attended one of Jaime's parties," Ava informed me.

"I know," I replied. "You've only mentioned it about a thousand times."

She nudged me. "Which means we're about to live the true Hamilton experience! God, you must really love me right now."

"I still feel like I should've bought something," I said. "In class the other day I was testing out spices in gingerbread, and I think the paprika gingerbread cookies may have been a hit."

"Snap out of your chef mind for just a second and let your mind be free. Tonight isn't about paprika gingerbread cookies; it's about Jell-O shots, cute boys and girls, and enjoying the ultimate college experience. Let's do this, Sinclair!"

She pulled me through the doors and into the party, which was crowded and hot. Lights flashed everywhere, and from the speakers played a Christmas carol that had been done to sound like a modern pop song you'd find on the radio. People stood around with red solo cups, chatting as they snacked on peanuts and potato chips from communal bowls. A few people were dancing on a makeshift dance floor, while other couples made out against the wall, seeming unaware they were in a room with hundreds of people.

"Isn't this amazing?" Ava squealed. "To the drinks!"

We made our way to the bar, which was set up from two trestle tables and a white tablecloth. Ava grabbed a beer, and I grabbed a guava vodka cruiser. If I were going to hang out here for a few hours, I'd need the good stuff to sail me through. Ava headed off in the direction of the beer pong, and I leaned against a wall and surveyed the crowd. Everyone knew each other and seemed to be having a fantastic time, but as an awkward loner in a room of older college students, I had no idea what to do or where to go. Ava, being the popular wild child she was, already had a bunch of older friends, and seemed in her element as she threw ping pong balls at her enemy's beer cups.

So, naturally, to cope with the awkward tension, I turned to the alcohol, which tasted a lot better than something extremely bad for you should.

That night I gave my liver a wonderful run for its money, as most others did. The world was a spinning blur, and eventually I actually began to enjoy my night, if only because I could now giggle every time I ran into a table or danced like a nun.