Pregame

The liquor store parking lot is already packed when Tony pulls in.

Its Friday night. Every other car either has:

• bass shaking the windows
• girls laughing inside
• or dudes your age buying enough **** to make terrible decisions for the next six hours.

The glowing neon “LIQUOR” sign reflects across the windshield while Rob immediately unbuckles his seatbelt.

“Alright,” Rob says while rubbing his hands together dramatically. “Time to become irresponsible.”

“You already are irresponsible,” Tony says calmly while turning the car off.

“Fuck you.”

“Chill,” you say while laughing.

Chris climbs out first, stretching dramatically.

“I’m not drinking that much tonight,” Chris announces confidently.

All three of you stare at him.

“That’s adorable,” Rob says.

“You literally say that every time,” you add.

“And every time I mean it.”

“Then somebody hands you a drink and suddenly you’re trying to sing at two in the morning,” Tony says.

“That happened ONCE.”

“It happened three times,” you answer immediately.

The four of you head inside together while cold air hits your face the second the doors open.

The place smells like cheap beer, cardboard, and vodka.

Friday night crowds move through the aisles while music plays quietly overhead.

Immediately, Rob disappears toward the liquor wall like a man fulfilling a sacred duty.

“I’m getting supplies,” Rob announces.

“That sentence scares me,” Tony mutters.

You laugh quietly while wandering toward the refrigerators near the back of the store.

Honestly, the excitement is finally starting to settle in now.

The tired feeling from work is mostly gone.

Now your chest just feels restless.

Anticipation.

The club.

The music.

Girls.

****.

The possibility of literally anything happening tonight.

You grab an soda from the fridge while Tony walks up beside you.

For a second neither of you says anything.

That’s kind of normal with him.

Compared to Chris and Rob, conversations with Tony always feel calmer. Less chaotic. More real.

“You actually seem in a good mood tonight,” you say while shutting the fridge door.

Tony shrugs slightly.

“Needed a night out honestly,” he admits.

You raise an eyebrow.

“That bad lately?”

“Nah,” Tony says. “Just busy all the time.”

You nod.

That tracks.

Half the time the dude is either working, studying, or with his girlfriend. Sometimes it honestly feels like he’s already halfway into full adult life while the rest of you are still figuring your shit out.

“You and her good?” you ask casually.

“Yeah,” Tony says immediately. “Just haven’t had time for anything else lately.”

You nod again while taking a sip from the can.

Honestly?

You respect the hell out of him for that.

The dude somehow balances everything without becoming miserable.

Meanwhile the rest of you are debating whether tequila counts as hydration.

“You know the fact you’re coming out tonight made everybody lock in instantly,” you say.

Tony laughs quietly.

“Yeah I noticed.”

“No seriously,” you continue. “Rob looked like he saw Jesus.”

“That’s because you idiots act like I’m retired.”

“You basically are.”

Across the store, Rob suddenly appears carrying entirely too much ****.

Two vodka bottles.

A bottle of tequila.

Two cases of seltzers.

Some random neon-colored bottle nobody recognizes.

“Oh absolutely not,” Tony says immediately.

“What?” Rob asks defensively.

“You’re not buying all that.”

“We need options.” Rob says.

“Were not tryna die,” you answer.

“This wont kill you.”

“You holding mystery blue liquid,” Chris says while walking over. “That cannot be healthy.”

“Its on sale.”

“That makes it worse.”

Rob looks genuinely offended while holding the bottles protectively.

“You guys never trust the process.”

“Because your process almost killed you last month,” Tony says calmly.

“That was unrelated.”

“You threw up in my car.” Tony states.

The four of you stand there arguing for another minute before eventually forcing Rob to put almost everything back.

He complains the entire time.

“This is stupid,” Rob mutters while returning the vodka bottles.

“You’ll survive,” you say.

Eventually the group settles on:

• two whiskey bottles
• mixers
• soda cans
• and snacks nobody actually plans on eating

By the time you all walk back outside carrying bags, the sky has gone darker.

The parking lot is louder now too.

Cars pulling in constantly.

Music everywhere.

People already pregaming before heading downtown.

“This is the perfect spot honestly,” Chris says while leaning against the car.

“You say that like we’re tailgating,” you answer.

“We basically are.”

Rob immediately starts pouring drinks into plastic cups the second the bags hit the hood of the car.

“Okay,” Tony says. “Easy at first.”

“Nobody asked.”

“You are literally the reason I’m saying it.”

Cold vodka burns slightly when you take the first sip.

Immediately your body starts warming up.

Music echoes through the parking lot while the four of you lean against the car passing bottles back and forth under neon lights.

The city feels alive now.

People yelling across parking lots.

Girls laughing somewhere nearby.

Engines revving.

Bass vibrating through concrete.

Friday night officially begins settling into your chest.

“So realistically,” Rob says while taking another drink, “who’s pulling tonight?”

“You ask this every weekend,” Tony says.

“And one day I’ll be right.”

“You say that after going home alone constantly,” Chris adds.

“That’s because women fear confidence.”

“No,” you say. “They fear you.”

Everybody laughs.

You lean back against the car slightly while taking another sip.

The **** starts smoothing the edges off the week already.

And somewhere underneath the jokes, music, and parking lot chaos?

That anticipation keeps growing stronger.

Pulse suddenly feels closer now.

Real.

Tonight is actually happening.