“We can’t even go out and sit in the vines, getting drunk under the sun,” Amelie points out.
“Not if we don’t want to freeze to death.” Taya rolls her eyes.
“Whatever. I scored us a cheap wine tour and you guys should be thanking me.” Scott has to walk around a patch of ice to avoid slipping and splitting his head open.
“Hey, think of it as a day of drinking and then it’ll seem almost normal?” Austin, who is up for the weekend, reaches for Taya’s hand.
“And if we get frostbite, you can send the hospital bill to Scott.” I grin in an asshole sort of way.
Gannon is still out in Los Angeles, so it’s Bev and me, Taya and Austin, and Amelie and Scott on this February wine tour of the Finger Lakes, huddling inside the buildings on the vineyards. Normally, we would be out walking around the vines, sitting in chairs overlooking the sloping hills down to the lake, and eating hunks of bread and cheese under a warm breeze while we got wine drunk. But since Scott insisted on doing this early to beat the crowds and tourists, we’re now drinking in the freezing cold, with snow on the ground. Honestly, it’ll be like any other trip to an indoor bar, but I’m kind of happy for this time with my friends.
The first winery is modeled like a big red barn, and when we get inside, the fireplace is roaring.
“Okay, this is actually charming as hell,” Taya retorts.
Bevan shrugs out of her coat, and I pull her to me, her soft camel-colored sweater feeling like butter in my arms.
“Okay, so maybe this won’t be so bad. Plus, there is wine. A lot of it. So let’s get to it.” Bevan seems to let her hair down.
After taking her LSATs and going through the drama of applying to law schools, therapy, us getting back together, and leaving her best friends behind in a few months, she seems to have calmed down a little. I’ve never seen Bevan so light, actually, and seeing her smile more often is one of the best parts of my life these days.
“Come right this way.” Scott flourishes a hand and we all stand in front of the tasting bar.
The sommelier explains to us the six different pours we’re about to experience, and it goes in one ear and right out the other. Most of us are just interested in downing it as fast as we can and then getting to our next stop, a winery that also distills whiskey, which is at the top of my list for this tour.
After we taste all the wines, we buy a couple bottles to all split and set up camp in thick leather armchairs by the roaring fire.
“Remember when we first moved into the house and we swore we’d have weekly nights of shit? We only did Sunday dinners.” Taya pouts.
“That’s because everyone would rather get drunk than have family movie night. Plus, that shit happens organically.” Scott downs a glass of red wine.
I swirl my glass. “We had those things. Remember the three weeks where we’d all go to the gym together?”
“And Bevan would be there a hundred times longer than any of us, while Amelie sat in the corner and read a book.” Scott snorts.
“If they had dance studio space, I would have rented it.” Am pours another glass of white wine.
“And then Callum almost got in a fight, remember?” Taya taps her nose as if recalling the memory.
“Don’t remind me,” I grumble.
“Oh my God, yes! What was that all about?” Amelie is trying to remember too.
“Some guy we were playing pickup basketball with said he wanted to fuck Bevan, and smooth guy over here nearly broke his nose,” Scott fills in the blank.
“It wasn’t one of my proudest moments.” I wince apologetically in my girl’s direction.
Bevan rubs my arm and then plops down to sit in my lap. “I think it’s chivalrous. You know, I’ve never had a problem with you fighting over me. Just fighting with me, that’s what we’re trying to avoid.”
And then she leans down to kiss me and everyone makes gagging noises.
The conversation continues, winding into random and weird territory as we all get more and more buzzed.
“Should we go to our next winery?” Scott rubs his hands together, playing cruise director.
“Aren’t we all kind of drunk already?” Austin chuckles.
“Yeah, but that’s the point of the wine tour,” I explain. “The break in between on the car ride allows for bread ingestion, and then you can start all over again at the next one.”
“And then you pass out on the ride home, someone orders a shit ton of pizza to meet you at the house, and then we all fall asleep in the living room. Sleepover!” Bevan cries, and most of us look at her like she’s insane.
“Who are you and what did you do with Bev?” Scott pokes her as if trying to ascertain if she’s real.
“I’m a new me, Scotty.” She blows him a sassy kiss.
Everyone downs the rest of their wine, and I lace hands with my girl as we follow everyone to the car through the cold outdoors again. Once we hit the pavement, though, Bevan breaks off to be with the girls. The three of them lock arms, traipsing and singing all the way to the limo as they sway.
Our group of friends has been like a unit, despite the academic year I lost with them. It’s hard not to look back and think about the time I wasted not spending the year with them, but it was needed. Bevan and I wouldn’t be in the place we’re in now, and if we’d stayed together or forced our friends to choose between us rather than me taking space, this group would not function the same way it does now.
But these are the golden moments, the fleeting experiences we won’t ever get back. Sure, we’ll take trips as young professionals out in the real world. But these college days are like living in a bubble where actual work and consequences don’t yet exist. We can be late, leave our lives messy, not dedicate as much of ourselves. We can day drink and get sloppy and spend too much time sleeping or fucking.
When people talk about the best days of their lives, I know they’re looking back on these last few months before reality hits. So I’m going to soak them up for as long as I can.
31
BEVAN
February and March come and go, and then we’re into crunch time.
Graduation is fast approaching. Callum and I need to figure out everything that happens after it, and I’m trying to live in the moment because I know Taya, Amelie, and I will never be this close proximity-wise again.
And then, as if I don’t have enough going on, I’m sitting in front of my computer when an email comes in.
Your application has been reviewed. Please proceed to your applicant portal for the decision.
The email I’m staring at, while trying not to throw up, is for Georgetown Law School. My top choice. The place I’ve always dreamed of going to, where some of the most iconic lawyers have studied.
My heart beats double time as I open the browser and follow the directions, signing in and clicking on the right prompts. My hands sweat and shake, slipping over the keys of my laptop, and I try not to have any kind of hopes. If I don’t get them up, then I won’t crash and burn if I’m rejected. At least that’s the way it should go, right?
With one final breath, I click open the letter, which downloads as a PDF, and I click it open. I read the letterhead and let the fact that I’m reading correspondence from Georgetown wash over me.