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[indent][color=d3d3d3][sub][color=black][b]“PLEASE JUST TELL ME WHERE THE REMOTE IS,”[/b][/color] whines Josh Haverford, a scrawny eighteen-year-old slacker—and shift manager at the Bistro, for some reason.

[color=black][b]“This is [i]Sleater-Kinney[/i], you fucking ingrate,”[/b][/color] Jack says with a cigarette pinched between her teeth. There’s a thin crowd of people in the Bistro right now, but even during rush hour conversations usually transpire like this. People in Delton accept what’s outside of the typical realm of ‘good customer service’; probably because they think it adds to the family-run business vibe. She flicks the cigarette up and tucks it behind her ear, folding her apron and leaving it on the counter. [color=black][b]“You’re not turning it off.”[/b][/color]

[color=black][b]“You’re only getting off work early ‘cause your dad owns the place!”[/b][/color] Josh fires over his shoulder, too busy getting ready for his shift to trail after her with taunts.

[color=black][b]“Yeah, and I’ll get him to fire your punk ass!”[/b][/color] Jack fires back, pushing down on the lever of the fire escape door. Josh responds by flipping off the door as it slams shut.

[color=black][b]“Fuckin’ kids, man,”[/b][/color] Jack mutters outside, hesitating for a moment to dwell on how [i]old[/i] it makes her sound. Five years since her ‘graduation’ and she’s still throwing venom at eighteen-year-olds. She shakes the feeling off as quickly as it comes on and retrieves her cigarette, lighting it. She pauses to take a drag before walking through the alley, where her motorcycle waits parked against the brick wall. Out of the few things she’s done since graduating, getting her license and a decent Sportster is definitely up there. She can bet nobody’s gonna be rocking up to P.J’s tonight on a Harley, and—Jesus, why the fuck does she care?

Her ringtone helpfully starts blaring and Jack quickly answers the call.

[color=black][b]“Somebody’s anxious,”[/b][/color] she jokes, her voice laced with an uncharacteristic warmth.

[color=black][b]“Just wanted to make sure you weren’t getting into a screaming match with the stick insect again,”[/b][/color] comes a distant voice from the other end, interwoven with a lot of rustling.

[color=black][b]“Jesus, Patrick Bateman, you laying out newspaper?”[/b][/color] Jack snorts, balancing on the seat of her bike.

[color=black][b]“I’m getting ready—”[/b][/color] A pause for more rustling, [color=black][b]“—and [i]you’re[/i] cutting it close.”[/b][/color]

[color=black][b]“I’m literally looking at my bike, Erica.”[/b][/color] She takes another drag. [color=black][b]“I’ll be right there.”[/b][/color]

[color=black][b]“But you’ve got time for a smoke?”[/b][/color] Erica’s voice is louder now, and the rustling seems to have stopped. Jack scowls, more at being caught out than anything.

[color=black][b]“Well, considering I only get five minutes for smoke breaks...”[/b][/color] There’s more mirth in her voice than she wants. The fuck would be wrong with ten minutes? [color=black][b]“Just quit worrying. It’s gonna be fun.”[/b][/color]

[color=black][b]“You don’t even know the guy.”[/b][/color]

[color=black][b]“Well, the friend of my girlfriend is my friend, or whatever,”[/b][/color] Jack quips. [color=black][b]“I’m gonna start driving up, like, right now, so.”[/b][/color]

[color=black][b]“Okay,”[/b][/color] Erica exhales, the tension leaving her voice. [color=black][b]“I’ll see you soon. I love you.”[/b][/color]

[color=black][b]“I love you, too.”[/b][/color] The line clicks dead. Jack stuffs her phone back into her pocket and stares at the half-smoked cigarette. After a moment, she sighs, dropping it on the ground and stomping on it. For posterity, she rummages through her jacket, grabbing her pack to check how many’s left.

Empty. Shit.

Jack all but slams the helmet onto her head and pulls out of the alley. The detour for another pack of cigarettes eats up 20 minutes of her time—she only ever goes to the minimart out by Majestic Plaza, since the guy there knows her and has a stash of imported cigarettes he sells her for cheap—and Jack stops for a smoke break once she’s secured them. Mistake number one, because right as she lights up, her phone begins to light up.

	[b]Erica:[/b]
	[color=white]Send me your location[/color]

With a groan, Jack runs a hand through her hair. She’d told Erica that was her last pack of cigarettes. Majestic is a good thirteen minutes out of the way of Erica’s. Erica is an amateur-turning-professional novelist, who can’t afford to have her public image be tarnished by her unreliable girlfriend.

											[b]Jack:[/b]
				[color=4682b4]i just needed to stop and grab some stuff[/color]

	[b]Erica:[/b]
	[color=white]Jesus christ Jack
	I just wanted one night[/color]

											[b]Jack:[/b]
					     [sub][sub] [/sub][/sub][color=4682b4]just give me a few more minutes[/color]

	[b]Erica:[/b]
	[color=white]Forget it. Do whatever you wanna do[/color]

Jack’s thumbs hover hopelessly over the buttons on her phone’s keyboard. She considers fighting for the relationship, but what if it doesn’t work? She doesn’t even know where to start.

Whatever she needs to do, she doesn’t want to think about it just yet. If she can’t get boozy at some party full of strangers, then she’ll have to go to a party full of people that do know her. People that probably know the worst of her. And she’s going to do it the way she always used to—showing up unexpected.

With renewed vigor, Jack finishes her cigarette and turns her phone off, starting up her motorbike set on a course to P.J’s.[/sub][/color][/indent]
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[sup][color=black][b]█  [sup]   [/sup]#1.01 WAY DOWN WE GO[/b][/color]
[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ti1liRM6cao][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/588109950006329429/1082586783436525618/image.png[/img][color=a9a9a9]one more hour — sleater-kinney[/color][/url][/sup]
[indent][sup][color=d3d3d3]delton station bistro [color=black]▸[/color] p. johnson's
interacting with: erica[/color][/sup][/indent][center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/824488408562794527/970459343667494932/unknown.png[/img][/center][sub][color=#2e2c2c]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/color][/sub][/cell][/row][/table][table][row][color=#2e2c2c][sup][h3][b]
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[indent][color=d3d3d3][sub]Not shortly after sending out the email en masse, did Ivory spin in her office chair and take a deep breath. Her face was frozen in an awe struck expression, like, [i]”Did I really just send that out?”[/i]. Her puzzled face gained its elasticity back when her body finally went limp with acceptance. A slow exhale crept out of her mouth, almost forming a mist it was so thick. Of course, she sent it. Who else was going to have the intention and the reach to? She was the head of the yearbook club 3 years running, no nepobaby in sight. She spun back around and slammed her mac book shut, before checking to see if she damaged her two-band investment. Her drawer slid out revealing her tools and weapons, like an armory hidden behind a whiteboard or false painting. Instead of knives and guns, it was pens and binders. Her father always said a trapper keeper would have been easier, but she hated the bulk even though the aesthetic was clean. 

Fingers traced over meticulously curated pages of notes in a very cramped planner. The amount of planning she was about to do to ensure a smooth transition for this reunion was about to be egregious. And with weeks of deliberation and no response for the first couple of weeks, Ivy was beginning to have second thoughts on the whole thing. It was foolish of her to have no semblance of mind to believe there was a possibility it would just be her and some streamers. Another stressful attempt to balance work/life left her in a pool of her own drool, on that same dang mac. The drum of an outlook [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EvZki4iIuqk]notification[/url] surged her awake, few things sent her into a PTSD frenzy, the alarm on iPhone’s being another. It was from CJ Markowitz, the last person she expected to reply, or should she have been the first? Regardless, her eyes did a full-on sprint when sifting through each and every word. Her efforts weren’t for naught. 

From there on it was a domino effect, ping after ping came in when she was doing laundry or making her fifth juice cleanse she found off TikTok. There were blunders which saw RSVPers turn to pull outs. Once the dust settled there were 5 including her that were locked in for the fateful reunion. 

The day of, Ivory is tearing with effervescent excitement. Perhaps this is the start of her redemption for not putting more effort into her peers instead of her peers’ best interests. CJ and Anni are going to be the toughest to crack, that is if they haven’t changed since graduation year. Hanna making an appearance sets her heart aflame, that [i]whittle[/i] superstar. Lucas is going to be a mystery to her, but she never gives up a good mystery. 

With a last touch of her make up and flattening of the fabric of her top she heads out to meet her rental car. There is already sweat accumulating under her arms from the nerves. She’s been in Delton for a week now, yet seeing her neighborhood feels like the first time with each car ride. She makes her way into P.J’s, worried she’s made the owner sick by seeing the same face for a better part of the day every day. [b][color=black]“This is the last time, I swear. And I’ll finally take that drink you think I should have had by now. Tom Collins—no cherry please and thank you”[/color][/b] she turns around to prop her elbows on the bar while she shakes her hands out, [b][color=black]“Come on Ivy League, a meteor isn’t going to bail you out this time.”[/color][/b]

[i]Or is it?[/i][/sub][/color][/indent]
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[sup][color=black][b]█  [sup]   [/sup]#1.01 WAY DOWN WE GO[/b][/color]
[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mOmsU91AxVg][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/588109950006329429/1082586783436525618/image.png[/img][color=a9a9a9]grown up — danny brown[/color][/url][/sup]
[indent][sup][color=d3d3d3]hilton suites [color=black]▸[/color] p. johnson's
interacting with: barkeep[/color][/sup][/indent][center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/824488408562794527/970459343667494932/unknown.png[/img][/center][sub][color=#2e2c2c]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/color][/sub][/cell][/row][/table]