Blind Ambition | ✓

28 | What A Night

When I reached for her glass of wine still on the counter, she swatted my hand away. "You can have one glass of wine, but after you say hi to your grandparents, please."

I gave her a curt nod before meandering into the den to have forced diplomatic conversation with my grandparents. They lived in West Haven and I saw them more than a few times a year, but the conversation was always the same. Somewhere in between my grandmother going on about how tall I was and my grandfather pressing me about his time at Cornell (because it isn't truly a legacy if it doesn't span several generations), a wave of nausea washed over me.

I managed to tear myself away semi-gracefully and run back up the stairs two at a time before I passed out. When I shut the door to my bedroom, I was enveloped in silence, and I finally took a breath.

"Come on," I muttered to myself through clenched teeth. "Get it the fuck together."

I wanted to throw myself to the floor. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tear off my itchy, suffocating dress shirt and crawl into bed. I didn't do any of that. Instead, I went to the bathroom and splashed some water on my face, then pulled open the drawer under the sink to see the same empty, labelless orange bottle. I slammed the drawer shut and left my room.

As I made my way back downstairs, I stopped a petite brunette between the kitchen and the foyer with a tray of wine glasses and hastily grabbed one. I slugged it down in a way most dignified people did not drink wine, and when the flashing stars in my eyes stopped, I realized she was still standing beside me. She couldn't have been more than a few years older than me, probably in college and home for winter break. 

"Hey uh..." I glanced down at her nametag. "Kara, right? Can you do me a favor?" I gave her the sweetest smile I could, and her eyes lit up.

"Sure, what's up?"

I tilted my empty wine glass towards her. "Can you make sure I've always got a full one? Please?"

She gave me a wary glance.

"Don't worry, I live here." I gave her a reassuring nod. "I just would prefer my mother not knowing."

She took the empty glass from my hand and swiftly replaced it with a full one. "Maybe try taking your time with this one," she said with a faint grin. "Just a little bit."

I mustered up a chuckle. "No promises, but I'll try."

By the time I had assimilated myself back into the party, the guest count had increased exponentially. Before I had a moment to breathe (and kill another glass of wine), Jordyn was pulling me over to our Christmas tree and stage managing her mother on the different angles to take our picture. The deep red velvet of her dress was soft against my palms as she pressed my hands to her waist, and her hair smelled like vanilla. If someone looked at our photo without context, they'd think we were the happiest couple on the planet behind all the Instagram-worthy filters and captions. Anyone who actually believed that whole facade was an idiot, but I guess that made me the king of the idiots.

"If I don't say hi to everyone that walks through our front door, my mom is going to string me up by my balls." I pressed a kiss into the top of Jordyn's head, hoping she'd take that for what it was and let me slip away. She gave my hand one last squeeze before letting go.

I passed my new best friend Kara, who swiftly traded my empty wine glass for a full one before I made my way back into the den. Chris and Rochelle were flanked by their parents, who I gave my usual cordial greeting to as Rochelle fixed Chris's lopsided tie. I had to remember to thank my mother later for letting me get away with not wearing one. We were all under a microscope here, and for all my mother's nagging and fussing, I knew there was a part of her that just wanted me to be comfortable. That part of her clearly won out tonight.