HARPER

It burns as it slips down my throat and lands like warm water in my stomach. There is a small amount of the light green liquid at the bottom of my glass, so I tip it back and make sure it's completely gone. I blow out a breath that I'm sure is extremely flammable. Asher motions for the bartender to serve us another round. I set my glass down next to the two empty ones already on our section of the bar.

"These chips and salsa are the fucking bomb," he says, his speech slow and deliberate as he stares at a fried tortilla chip loaded down with chunky salsa.

"Yep. Probably best I've had," I agree. I grab a chip and sprinkle it with a little more salt. Asher watches in curiosity as if he's never seen anyone salt each chip. I scoop up salsa, but not all of it makes it to my mouth. Asher laughs.

"Messy...but worth it," he says.

"Chips are not shaped for optimal ease in getting them into your mouth. Our mouths are not shaped like triangles." I'm smart, right? Am I making any sense?

Asher stares at his next chip and then nods. "I never thought of that," he replies.

The drinks are dropped off at the bar in front of us, and we reach for them immediately. This is the point of the night where I've had enough alcohol to make it go down easier than it should. A few more and I'll be in the position where they are easier coming back up.

"What should we do tonight?" I ask. We won't be able to maintain this level of drinking much longer.

Asher shrugs and starts sipping his warm margarita. "I don't really care."

"Me either," I agree. I have my drink to my lips when a large group of our classmates comes bursting into the small bar. The music is already pounding as their voices raise the volume exponentially.

Jess is here with her friends. She looks our way and gives Asher a wave, but doesn't make her way over. They take seats at the opposite end of the bar. My heart hurts for him, but he's already reaching for another chip.

"Fuck it," he says to me in a low voice I can barely hear. "Don't worry about me."

"It's making me feel like I can't breathe. Want to go somewhere else?" I start digging for my cash.

"It won't matter where we go. It doesn't change the reality of this whole shitty thing." He crams a huge chip into his mouth, salsa dripping down his chin. "If she can't see," he says with a flourish, "that I'm a catch...then that's her problem." His sarcasm is on point, and I laugh out loud.

I lift a chip out of the basket, ignoring the growing volume each time a new group of us enters the bar. Asher grabs the salt and holds it up. I extend my chip, and he shakes some on it.

"You guys here on your senior trip?" A kid about our age asks.

"Yes," Asher answers. "What about you?"

"Nah, I live here." He lifts a cold beer to his lips and swallows an impressive amount down.

"That's cool," Asher replies.

"Not really," he says with a chuckle. "But we do make the best out of it. You guys seem different than the rest of the crowd." He points down to the belligerently drunk kids with terrible sunburns.

"Maybe," I answer.

"Well, my friends are on the way. If you want to hang out with us, you can." He sets his empty beer on the bar.

"Sounds fun," Asher answers. His eyes look into mine to confirm I'm cool with the invitation. Why not? I nod.

The world melts a little as I move my head faster than my eyes can follow. I make a note to myself to slow down on the drinks.

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