ISLA
“HAPPPY BIRTHDAAAAY,” the group yells out as we clink our shot glasses together. I throw back the tequila and feel it burn all the way down to my stomach.
This has to be my sixth? Maybe seventh shot? I’ve lost track, but the buzz I’m riding is supreme.
Audrie makes her way back to the dance floor with Connor and Liz. Paul and Anna go back to the shameless flirting they have been doing all night.
Tate turns to rest his back on the bar, “So how’s it feel, birthday girl?”
“Well, right now, I feel great!!” I say with a giggle.
“Ha, I think that might be the tequila talking,” He replies.
“Nah, I’m good. I feel free. This is the first birthday since my Grandma died that I’ve even celebrated.”
I see a tinge of sadness dance across his eyes. I hate that. I hate pity.
“Isla, I’m sor-
