Chapter 64 No Going Home Until We were Drunk
Isabella came back the next morning, and her suitcase banging against the dorm door woke us up.
I had woken up earlier, but Mia was clinging to my pajamas, and I didn't want to move. I ended up falling back asleep, even deeper than before.
Brad messaged on Facebook, offering to bring us food, but I told him I wasn't fully awake yet.
If Isabella hadn't come back, we probably would've slept until the afternoon.
"You lazy bums, still sleeping! I had to carry my luggage upstairs by myself," Isabella yelled.
We scrambled out of bed, didn't even freshen up, and helped Isabella unpack before brushing our teeth. Brad's lunch arrived right on time.
The three of us sat down for lunch. Mia was in a bad mood and didn't feel like talking, so I filled Isabella in and asked what we should do next.
I thought love was sacred and worth looking forward to. Money was important, but love was precious too. Missing out on true love would be a shame.
Brad mentioned that Benjamin had been moping around the dorm for days. He must have followed Mia back and felt bad about their cold war. He probably tried to explain, but Mia wouldn't listen, so he's been miserable.
The fact that he followed Mia and was upset showed he cared about her. Why he hadn't come to explain was a mystery.
I didn't get the world of the wealthy, but I felt for Mia. I'd been hurt before, so I understood her pain.
Isabella was the oldest and most decisive among us, and we relied on her a lot.
Of course, Isabella and I could only give our opinions; the final decision was up to Mia, and we would support her no matter what.
In the end, since this was about personal feelings, Isabella couldn't come up with a perfect solution.
When it came to matters of the heart, only the people involved could decide.
We huddled on one bed, talking until sunset. Apart from cursing Benjamin, we didn't reach any conclusion. Mia cried and stopped, then cried again until she had no tears left.
Mia kept touching her dry eyes and eventually collapsed on the bed, wailing.
To cheer her up, Isabella suggested, "Forget it. You can't force these things. Let's ditch that jerk. To celebrate our reunion and the new semester, let's hit a bar tonight. It'll be lively, and Mia can change her mood."
Hearing Isabella's idea, I got excited too.
I'd heard classmates rave about bars—the dreamy lights, the variety of drinks, the explosive music, and the handsome guys. I'd always wanted to go, but Brad was strict and always said bars were unsafe for girls.
Back home, there were plenty of chances to hit the bars with classmates, but my mom always shut it down, making everyone change plans.
I'd argued with my parents about it, but when they said, "It's for your own good, girls shouldn't go just anywhere," I usually gave in. Helen's words always got to me.
Honestly, going to a bar has been my biggest dream since turning 18, aside from painting.
This time, the three of us snuck out, finally making my dream come true. I was ecstatic.
Mia was heartbroken and in a bad mood, but I was thrilled, and we quickly agreed to hit a bar and have some fun.
Brad called right on time to ask about dinner, but I politely declined, saying we were going out.
Hearing that, Brad gave me a ton of reminders. After I promised to be good, he reluctantly hung up.
It was our first time going to a bar, and we were all super excited. We scarfed down a quick dinner and then sat by the window, eagerly waiting for nightfall.
Finally, at eight, Isabella waved her hand, and the three of us, all dressed up, rushed out.
I wore a pink sequined loose sweater with skinny jeans, a white down jacket, and white snow boots with fur trim. My naturally milky white skin looks great in bright colors.
Isabella was a natural beauty with a tiny waist and slightly darker skin, giving her an exotic charm. Her figure was perfect for a tight bodycon dress.
Mia wasn't in the mood to dress up, but Isabella and I made her put on heavy makeup, false eyelashes, and a wine-red sweater with high-waisted black pants. She's a pure Northern girl but has the petite figure of a Southern girl, soft and huggable.
When we rushed downstairs, we admired each other's outfits in the glass door and were very satisfied.
There were lots of cars parked in front of the bar, with young men and women coming and going.
Before we even got in, the ground-shaking music hit our ears, quickly lifting our spirits.
"Stick with me, don't wander off," Isabella said, leading us to a relatively quiet corner to sit down, then went to get drinks.
She quickly returned with a handsome young waiter who placed a case of beer on the table and brought some snacks.
"C'mon, girls, we're not leaving 'til we're wasted," Isabella said, grabbing a bottle of beer and chugging it like a champ.
Mia copied her, grabbed a bottle, drank it, then slammed it on the table and wiped her chin, shouting, "Awesome."
"Jane, you can't be more timid than Mia. Drink up. At first, it tastes bad, but once you drink enough, you'll find it delicious and want more."
I took a sip of the beer, found it bitter, and didn't like it.
Actually, I had a natural ability that only my parents know about, and I'd never told anyone else, not even the Pitt family.
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