New Year's Resolutions
Sienna sat back from the mirror and regarded her reflection. When the fuck did it get so hard to apply eyeliner? The swathe of dark kohl across her eye was a little wonky, but it would suffice. She grabbed the bottle of wine from beside her and raised it to her lips, frowning when the last trickle of rosé ran down her chin. And when did I run out of wine? She stood, a little wobbly in heels, and took a last look at herself. The evidence of crying ceaselessly about being stood up by Anthony was hidden behind a mask of make-up and a tight dress. Well, fuck him.
After two attempts at locking her door, Sienna had to concede that maybe, possibly, she was a little bit drunk. And it was only 8pm. She giggled, surprised at how bad she was being. The wine had been a nice relief from her misery for the last few days, and now it was giving her much needed courage. She tottered down the corridor until she came to number 33; Devan's room. Her first knock was tentative; her second was almost too loud. When the door opened, she tripped over her carefully prepared speech, "Hi-do-you-want-to-come-to-a-thing-because-I've-heard-there's-a-party-off-campus-and-I-need-to-get-fucked-up. Preferably with you." She stood, swaying slightly, desperately hoping that Dev would say yes.