The Girl Who Wrote The Dating Manual

chapter six

chapter six

“And school is officially out for break!” Ava yelled as she skipped through the doors of the apartment. She shucked off her coat and scarf and ran into the kitchen, green eyes alight with excitement as she practically jumped around.

            I looked up from where I was cutting bell peppers on the chopping board and raised my eyebrows, a small smile upturning my lips. “Yep. Congrats. We made it through another semester.”

            “What’s for dinner?” Ava asked, checking the phone to see if there were any messages before replacing it back on the bench.

            “Frozen pizza,” I replied, gesturing vaguely with my knife to the green cardboard box on the stove.

            “Wow, I didn’t know that you knew how to eat TV dinners,” Ava joked, running a hand through her dark hair and pulling it out of its long ponytail. It fell in long, loose waves down her back.

            “Ha ha. Funny.”

            “We’re also going out tonight,” Ava informed me, taking a seat on the bar stool.

            “Oh, are we now? Where to?” I asked, adding the peppers to the pizza and adding a little more mozzarella, before popping it into the oven. I dusted my hands on my jeans and put the chopping board in the sink, running a cloth over it and then placing it in the drying rack.

            “We’re going to Joe’s,” Ava said happily. “Just you and me. We’re going to get hammered and party till dawn like true college girls.”

            Joe’s was the bar where Jamie worked at as a bartender, and I knew he wouldn’t card us. Back in freshman year of college we’d done it all the time, and Jamie, being the laidback kind of guy he was, couldn’t be bothered to chastise us for underage drinking. 

            Joe’s was pretty laidback in general, and Jamie had been working there for two years, before even he was legal to serve up alcohol. A lot of college students went there to party or chill out, and you were guaranteed to run into at least one person you knew on any given night. The alcohol thing didn’t really matter about ages, though. A month ago Ava had celebrated her twenty-first, and mine was in two weeks. As good as legal, and I didn’t think the small difference would affect much.

            “We’re driving to your folk’s place tomorrow, though,” I reminded her. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

           

            She rolled her eyes and chuckled ruefully. “Fine, Mom. We won’t get hammered. But come on, at least a little tipsy. I made it through another semester with Terrible Taylor. At least let me celebrate it.”

            ‘Terrible Taylor’ was in reference to her fashion design teacher, a man who was a little too big for his boots and liked to treat everybody like they were peasants to his kingdom. I couldn’t have done a semester with him, that’s for sure. Ava deserved that break away from him. I think if I heard one more story about him, I’d march over there and smack him myself.