The following afternoon, I arrive to public speaking class early. I’ve had two beers the hour before. It’s undeniable – I feel lose and confident and a little apathetic (and that’s a good thing, according to Dylan). But I also feel guilty. A big part of me, the one I try to suppress with all of my might, thinks this is cheating. I need to go into this cold or not at all. But I know what’s going to happen if I go in cold. If I couldn’t do it in front of Dylan, there’s no way I’m going to be able to do it in front of a room of strangers and Professor Milner.

I need to get this over with, I say to myself. The sooner the better. So when Professor Milner asks for volunteers, I raise my hand. Without two beers in me, I would never volunteer for this. Instead, I would pray that I wouldn’t be called on next and if time runs out in class, I would take a big sigh of relief and then fret and worry about this for another week. But now, I’m different. I’m braver. Bolder. Not so afraid.

I go up to the podium. A class of thirty or so bored kids stare back at me. Professor Milner gives me a nod of encouragement. The girl in the front row types frantically on the phone. I can do this, I say to myself.

“Okay, everyone,” I start. My voice is confident, self-assured. Just how it was last night. “Can I have your attention please?” I say. I’m giving a toast, and I pretend that I’m holding a glass in my left hand.

“I’d like to take this opportunity and congratulate Dylan and Peyton on their upcoming wedding. I’ve known Dylan for many years, ever since he was my roommate freshman year in college. Over the years, we grew up, changed, but one thing remained the same, steadfast: his love for Peyton. Anyone who knows them knows that they’ve had their share of breakups, but instead of letting that tear them apart, each breakup somehow made them stronger. I’ve had the privilege of knowing this couple for many years now and I know that they have loved each other for many, many years. Ever since high school. How many of us can say that we met the love of our lives in high school? Not many, that’s for sure. So, let’s put our glasses up in honor of this blessed union. I love you both.”

When I’m done, everyone in the class claps. I’m stunned. I still can’t believe that I actually did that – spoke out loud for a significant amount of time in front of a group of people. Did this really happen or am I going to wake up any minute now and realize that I still have to do the speech in a few hours?

As I make my way back to my desk, I feel my heart filling with pride. Who was that girl speaking so confidently in front of a room of strangers? It’s not every day that you surprise yourself.

The girl who was texting during my speech gets up to give hers. My mind continues to spin, but in a good way. I’m in awe. In addition to my shock that I actually got through the toast in one piece, I’m also surprised about the content of the speech.

This was not the toast that I wrote the week before. And it wasn’t the toast that I practiced with Dylan last night. No, that toast was for Tristan on his birthday. But today at lunch, completely on a whim, I took five minutes and wrote a toast to Dylan. I wanted to thank him for helping me with the speech. I wouldn’t have survived today were it not for him. I didn’t have a good reason to thank him for anything, so I switched it up and wrote a wedding toast.

* * *

“Professor Milner actually said that I did a good job,” I brag to Dylan that evening.

Tristan’s warming up some soup in the microwave.

“Oh, was that today?” Tristan asks. He hadn’t asked me about it before.

I hate the absentminded look on his face. I want to throw my plate at his head. But I restrain myself. This is my time to celebrate. This is a good thing. I’m in a good place. I’m on cloud nine. And nothing he does or doesn’t do will change that.

“I’m sorry, I completely forgot,” Tristan says.

I ignore him.

“Dylan, I was amazing. I had no inhibitions. Okay, very little. I said everything I wanted to say. And all the words came out right. I even paused for dramatic effect!”

“That’s great,” Dylan grins ear to ear. “I knew you could do it.”

“I knew you could do it, too,” Tristan butts in.

“You should’ve heard her toast, Tristan,” Dylan says. “It was to you on your birthday. She had really nice things to say.”

“No, actually, it wasn’t,” I say.

“What? But that’s what we had practiced.”

“I know. But when I was going over it again at lunch, it just felt…off. So, I rewrote it. I congratulated you and Peyton on your upcoming wedding.”

“What?!” Dylan gasps. Tristan also seems to be taken aback. “That’s a scary thought,” Dylan jokes.

“I know, I’m sorry. I just wanted to thank you. And a wedding toast sounded right.”

“Just as long as it’s pretend,” Dylan says, laughing all the way back to his room.

I’m about to walk back toward my room as well, but Tristan catches up with me.

“Hey listen, I’m so, so sorry about this whole thing. I said I’d help and I didn’t.”

I shrug. I don’t want to say that it was no big deal because it was. But I also don’t want to get into all this right now.

“I was just swamped with work and classes. But I know, it’s no excuse,” Tristan says.

“I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done were it not for Dylan. You really let me down,” I say. “And Dylan saved me.”

There’s so much more to say. It’s only the second week and Tristan’s schedule is already impossible. I hate his new internship. I want him to quit. We don’t have any time for each other and we’re in college. If we don’t have time for each other now, when will we?

But I don’t say any of those things. I don’t want to cloud my celebration with a fight. Or even a disagreement.