🧠 a time my muse thought about yours.
send a symbol for…
“OKAY. so. there was this crazy party at Brian Tuckerman’s house some time around freshman year—he was throwing it when his parents went to Augusta for the weekend, and nobody expected them to come home early. everyone scattered like rodents when his parents walked through the door, but a couple of us raided Mr. Tuckerman’s basement bar before we left. Streaky and i thought we made out like bandits with a case of ginger beer, but we were totally, totally wrong. all the good shit was gone by the time we got there, but we didn’t know that.” she’s laughing so hard already that it’s hard for her to continue, but she takes a deep breath and persists. “our ride ditched us so we had to walk the long way home, and during that time we chugged almost the entire thing thinking we were going to get fucked up, but we just ended up making ourselves so sick. to this day i can’t stand the taste of ginger ale, but i still think about him every time i’m near it.”
naomi trails off, laughing still.
“it kind of sucks though, cause like, two years ago every cool bar had signature mules—‘cause that was the new it drink—and i couldn’t even enjoy it. ”
