Ūndecim

"You can't wear that, Sunday. This is your eighteenth birthday. You should be making the boys drop to their knees in worship of your amazingness," Veronica admonishes from her view of my outfit over my shoulder. We're both standing in front of the mirror, so I know she's seeing the same thing I am. I look fine. Bitch.

"We're partying at The Rock tonight. I don't want to freeze my ass off. You know how chilly it starts to get in the woods this time of the year. Jeans and a t-shirt are the best options." I try reminding her as though she were a normal person that thinks about such things as comfort and warmth. She's not. She would get frostbite if it meant she could wear the cute peep toe heels she likes even in freezing weather.

Veronica rolls her eyes at me before turning and going back toward my closet, clearly not liking my answer. To her credit, she's in a red eyelet sundress with gold gladiator sandals. She looks fucking amazing, as always.

For me, getting dressed up just hasn't been the same since I lost my Dad. I know that grief takes time, but I'm having a hard time envisioning any sort of future in which I'm the same Sunday I was before his accident. I guess a part of that grief intertwines itself in your DNA, traveling throughout your life with you. It becomes a part of you. I'll never be the same Sunday again, and to be honest- I'm okay with that.

"How about this one?" Veronica asks, coming out of my closet brandishing a plum bandage dress that is far more fitting for the club than the woods. Jesus Christ. I'm going to have to find a way to compromise with her. Maybe we can find something in the middle.

"No. How about we compromise? I'll let you pick the top, but the jeans and boots stay?"

She drops her arms in an overstated motion, never one to let the moment pass without at least a little bit of drama, and lets her bottom lip jut out in a practiced pout that makes the boys of Hunter's Woods swoon. It's not winning her any points on this battlefield, however.

"You have to play the part, Sunday. We all do. This?" She says, waving the dress in the air with a manic shake to it, "This is the part. What you have on says 'I gave up."

"Shirt or no deal, Ronnie," I say, folding my arms to illustrate to her that the conversation is closed. Which it is. I'm not putting on the damn dress and there's nothing she can do to convince me otherwise. After a loud groan and more wild gestures, she finally digs back into the closet, coming up with a kelly green keyhole shirt made entirely of mesh with cap sleeves. I take a deep sigh. How does she always beat me at my own game?

"Fine," I say, pulling it from her hands and walking over to my drawers to go searching for a bralette I can wear beneath it. I'll just bring a jacket with me. With the black ripped jeans and docs, I can probably get away with tying a light jacket around my waist if I must. I know Veronica will take issue with the style choice but I'm not going to freeze to death in the woods on my eighteenth birthday for fashion.

"Ladies, I brought provisions," Poe says as she blows through the door like a fierce wind wearing basically the same bandage dress that Veronica showed me about fifteen minutes ago.

"Nice dress, Poe. It's perfect for the occasion," Veronica says while shooting me a pointed look. "What did you bring?"

"Well, the only thing that we can open now is this bottle of bourbon. It's a special distillery nearby. It's supposed to have a smokey flavor." Poe shrugs. She doesn't know shit about whiskey. None of us do. We're high school students. Booze is booze.

Veronica busies herself with cracking the bottle and pulling three shot glasses from the small collection I have on my shelves. I have one from each place that Law went to when she was touring schools. I thought it was hilarious given the fact that I was far too young to be drinking, but now that I'm older I appreciate them more. Big sisters do know best at least part of the time.

"So, Brock and Mitch and those guys are bringing up huge things of hot chocolate and a couple of kegs. Let's get the pregame done so we can get there and get the fire up and going. before anyone beats us to the punch."

As a last-minute addition to my outfit, I grab the necklace I was drawn to from my mom's box and fasten it around my neck, enjoying the way that it sits between my breasts perfectly. Like it was made just for me.

The three of us bound down the stairs en route to the cars. I am hoping to make it there before Law decides to try on the parent hat and give us a stern talking-to about the dangers of drugs and unprotected sex. Barf.

When I pull the door back I find Oakley wearing a surprised look on his face that quickly melts into a smile. The kind of smile that makes panties burst into flames. Let's hope that doesn't happen. Apparently, that's a real fear in my life now.

"Hey," I say, surprised to see him. "What are you doing here?"

"I ran into Veronica at lunch today. She told me that if I came by I could ride with you guys to the party. I'll even be the DD so you can celebrate properly." The side of his mouth lifts in a little smirk after the offer and I suddenly feel the need to wipe the drool from my mouth.

"That would be awesome. Thanks." I actually hadn't invited Oakley. Not because I didn't want him to come, but because I didn't want to pretend that we're something we're not. I don't want to put pressure on him to feel one way or the other, especially when I haven't really talked to Veronica about where she stands with him just yet.

The tiny bench seat in the back is filled up with two girls and a bottle of bourbon but the cramped surroundings don't stop either of them from lightening the mood on the drive down the highway toward our spot. Poe is more playful with two shots in her body than she normally would be. Her usual stoicism has given way to the younger version of Poe that she keeps hidden. Under the layers of privilege and prim proper manners that have been bred into her family for generations, there's still a high school girl that wants the same things as the rest of us. A cute boy, hope for a future, and a night full of memories.

"So, tell me about the car," Veronica says from the back seat, doing the best that she can to pull off sultry from inside a shoebox. To her credit, she's not half bad at it. If anyone can do it, it's Ronnie.

"Not much to tell. We adopted it from an older guy that was selling what was, at the time, an abandoned project car he had been working on for a few years. My brother and I took the time to rebuild it. It was the first car I bought when I was sixteen."

A boy that knows his way around a chassis is exactly the kind of man I need in my life. Someone that's not going to judge about the fact that my dad rode a Harley and made his money lying beneath steel behemoths.

"Impressive," Veronica replies with pure smoke and fire hidden in the tone of her voice. Ugh. She really likes him. She's pulling out all the stops. I have no idea if I can convince her to step back. She always gets her man, after all. But, I know I'm not imagining the fiery connection between Oakley and me. You can nearly smell the electricity as it zips through the air around us anytime we're together. Even now, he wasted no time letting his eyes pan my direction during the drive.

When we finally roll up to the spot, Oakley is careful to park the car in a direction that should allow us to leave easily when we go. The narrow dirt road may be even, but it is small, meaning that sometimes on nights when the school turns out for a party the parking situation up here can get a little chaotic.

"Alright. Are you guys ready for this?" Veronica asks. I force a smile on my face and try to remind myself that this is something I used to do for fun all the time. This is something that old Sunday would have enjoyed. Maybe there's still a little room inside me to bring a few of those pieces with me.