Page 80 of Ashen Souls

“Well,” Harper said, pausing to check me out. “I’d say you’re officially too hot to be thinking about cursed magical realms tonight.”

“That’s optimistic,” I replied. “My brain doesn’t respect outfits.”

She snorted. “That’s because your brain is dramatic. We’re fixing that with alcohol.”

“I actually feel excited,” I admitted, looking away from the mirror. “Like… genuinely excited.”

Harper froze mid-lip-gloss application. “Hold on. Stop. Repeat that slowly.”

“I’m excited. Don’t make it weird.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely making it weird.” Harper pointed the wand at me. “Because this is growth. Or denial. Possibly both.”

“Spring break starts Monday,” I said. “I have a whole week to figure out my life.”

She grinned. “Ah, yes. The classic I’ll emotionally unravel later strategy.”

“It’s very popular.”

We left her room, navigating a hallway already sticky with spilled drinks. The bass from the common area grew louder with every step.

The party was already peaking.

LED lights pulsed across the walls in abrasive colors. The music vibrated straight up through the floorboards, rattling my teeth. Bodies packed the room: a loud, sweating blur of classmates, friends, and people I’d only ever nodded at in lectures.

“I forgot how much I like campus parties,” I said, raising my voice over the music.

“That’s because clubs require effort,” Harper replied. “Here, you can be drunk, barefoot, and emotionally unstable within a five-minute radius of your bed.”

“Truly the dream.”

She handed me a red plastic cup. “Drink. Slowly. Or not. I’m not your conscience.”

I took a sip. It tasted like vodka and fruit punch, but the harsh burn going down my throat helped loosen the tight knot in my chest.

Someone waved from across the room.

“Hey, Aveline!”

I waved back, an actual, unforced smile slipping out.

Harper noticed. “See? Known faces. Predictable chaos. No demons.”

“Don’t jinx it.”

She leaned closer. “If Daeren shows up at a dorm party, I’m charging him rent.”

We staked out a spot near the kitchen: close enough to the music to feel the bass, but far enough away to hear each other. Conversation drifted easily: complaints about upcoming finals, half-baked plans for spring break, and exaggerated stories that grew less believable with every sip of vodka.

The alcohol was finally doing its job. No phantom whispers. No warning throb against my wrist. Just the crushing volume of the party and Harper shouting over the music.

“This,” I gestured vaguely around the packed room, “is exactly what I needed.”

Harper raised her red cup. “To forgetting magical nonsense for one night.”

I clinked my cup against hers. “To being normal.”

She gave me a look. “Let’s not get carried away.”