“Let’s go get wasted,” Dylan said from the couch, his feet crossed over the coffee table, a plate of pizza resting on his chest.
“Now?” Sitting at the table on the other side of the room, I bit into my slice of pepperoni. “It’s only Tuesday.”
“So?”
I flipped the page of my Epidemiology textbook. “So … I have an exam in the morning that I’m really not ready for.”
He took the last bite of the crust. “And you think the next couple of hours are going to make a difference? You either know that shit or you don’t. And you do—you’ve been studying nonstop. Besides, you can wake up in the morning and cram for a few hours before the exam.”
I finished mine as well and grabbed one more from the box. “You mean, when I’m hungover as hell and running on no sleep?”
He took a swig of his beer and smirked. “Isn’t that how we do most of our studying?”
I shook my head and bit off the tip, a pool of pepperoni grease falling onto my tongue. “How about we negotiate and agree to only have a few drinks and make it home before midnight?”
He got up from the couch, briefly pretending my shoulder was a punching bag before he got himself another slice. “You can aim for a couple drinks and an early night.” He sat in the seat next to mine. “But we both know that’s not going to happen. Moderation isn’t something either of us is good at.”
He was right.
Hell, tonight would turn into full-on debauchery, like most of the evenings we went out. I’d wake with a raging headache and barrel my way to class, trying to keep down the greasy breakfast I’d inhaled. That was what college was supposed to be about. That was, unless you were a premed major with a course load that was kicking your ass, like me.
“Have I sold you on tomorrow’s hangover, or are you going to be a little pussy tonight?”
I took a drink of my beer and picked up the rest of the slice. “If I fail this exam, you’re fucking dead.”
He got up from his seat, chuckling. “We’re leaving in thirty. Make sure you’re ready.”
I licked the sauce off my fingers. “You don’t have any exams this week?”
He shrugged, grabbing another bottle of beer from the fridge. “Nothing I can’t finesse my way through. You know this degree is just a technicality, so when I open my own private airline one day, they can call me a fool, but they can’t call me an uneducated one.”
“Make sure you keep a position open for me. I’m probably going to need it.”
“Fuck that,” he drawled. “You’re going to be an incredible surgeon, and if anything ever happens to me, you’re going to be the one who saves me.” He smiled and pointed at the bathroom. “Now, fucking move it. You’re down to twenty-five minutes.”
We’d had these dreams since we were kids, and Dylan had been pushing me toward mine ever since. I was just as hard on him even if he didn’t care as much about his degree.
College was better because we could do it together.
I tossed my paper plate in the trash and held my beer as I walked down the hallway. “Hey,” I said to him from the doorway of the bathroom.
He was headed into his room and stopped to look at me. “Yeah?”
“You’re buying tonight, and don’t try to finesse your way out of it.”
Laughter was his only response.