“OH FUCK YES, I SEE A POOL!” Jess yells as we all pile through the door of the suites we booked, bags over our shoulders and sweat already gathering on the backs of our necks. She scoots past me and jogs up the stairs to where the two bedrooms are, no doubt taking claim to whichever room has the largest bed. I just smile, dropping my bags to the floor and immediately hooking up my iPhone speaker. Turning on my Avicii radio station, I pump up the volume and finally take in the surroundings.
Cassie and Adam are slowly making their way up the stairs where Jess is and I take the opportunity to check out the kitchen. It’s full service — dishes and cooking utensils stocked — with a bar area and a dining room table set. The living room connects and everything is decorated just like a Key West suite should be — bright coral couches, light aqua-blue rugs and accents, beachy paintings hung on the wall, bamboo and light wood finishes. There’s a sliding glass door that leads out to a back patio area, complete with a small hot tub that I’m sure will be occupied at the end of the night.
Slinging my bags back over my shoulders, I make my way upstairs and toss them into the room where Jess has set up camp.
“So, what’s the sitch?” I ask, wiping the sheen from my forehead. Jess is spread out on the king size, pillow-top bed with a huge grin on her face. The bedrooms seem to embody the same beachy-vibe from downstairs, paintings and all. There’s a huge mirror just above the master bedroom bed and I stare at my reflection. “Side note — I totally want to watch someone bang me in that mirror.”
“Well, obviously you and I are in here. So I mean if you want to swing that way for a night, I’m totally down.” She smirks and I cross my arms, rolling my eyes. “It’s a king, so we can fit one more.”
“Dibs!” Erin yells behind me and I jump. The Omega Chi bus must have arrived.
I chuckle. “Okay, well that’s figured out.”
“I’m calling the other room, then,” Cassie says, propping herself against the doorframe and thumbing over her shoulder. Everyone’s eyes fall to Adam standing behind her then.
“Uh, I can sleep on the couch.” He rubs the back of his neck and offers a shy grin. I hate it, because I know he feels awkward, and as much as I swore it wouldn’t be — I think everyone feels like it’s a little weird that he’s here.
“Actually, can we take the couch?” Ashlei asks, rounding the corner from the stairs, her wind-blown hair tossed into a messy bun. Bo is just behind her. “It folds out, so it would make sense that two people sleep there. And we don’t mind.”
“There we go. All settled. Adam, you can just crash in the other room with my Little.” I smile, clapping my hands together as Adam and Cassie exchange glances. I know they go to breakfast sometimes and they seem to get along, so it shouldn’t be too strange for them to sleep together. Definitely better her than me. “And now — we drink!”
Everyone cheers and we funnel down the stairs and into the kitchen, retrieving alcohol, cups, ice, and everything else we grabbed at the grocery store on our way to check in.
“Wait! I made us something,” Erin says, heaving one of her bags onto the dining room table. It’s a glass top, and whatever is inside her bag settles with a clink. When she unzips it and pulls out the first Bubba Keg, bedazzled with jewels and her name, I can’t help but smile. My Big is one of the most thoughtful people I know, and any chance she has to make her sisters feel special, she takes.
“These ought to keep our drinks cold on the beach,” she says, passing them around. Bubba Kegs are essentially giant mugs that keep cold beverages chilled and hot beverages warmed. For our purposes, they’ll play home to our mixed drinks under the Key West sun. Each one is decorated with personal flair, including poker chips and dollar signs for me and glittery curse words for Jess. They’re huge — holding about seventy-two ounces — and they’re thermos-style with a silver middle and different colored tops and bottoms. Perfect for beach day drinking.
“Well shit, I made something, too. Hang on.” Jess runs up the stairs while the rest of us fill our cups with our liquor of choice. When she rounds the corner again, she starts hurling neon balls of cloth at our heads. Cassie tries but fails to snatch hers out of the air, so it wraps around her face and falls to the floor as we all laugh. “Suit up, bitches!”
I catch the one she throws at me and unfold it, my eyes scanning the bold black letters on the neon yellow tank top.
OUTRAGEOUS? ALWAYS. OUT RAGE US? NEVER.
“Fucking right,” Ashlei says. “We’re wearing these tonight. All of us.”
“Wait! Can’t forget these,” Bo adds, passing around the custom trucker-style snapbacks to match. They’re all black with bright neon letters that read KKB.
“Hold on a second, did you two coordinate these?” I ask, adjusting the back of my hat and throwing it on backward.
Bo nods, smiling at Jess. “It was a Big/Little bonding sesh.”
“The idea was hers,” Jess adds, tossing her tank top over her shoulder. “Clearly. We all know I’m not that thoughtful.”
Everyone laughs and once Jess and Bo finish filling up their cups, we cheers them together.
“Time to fuck Key West up, ladies.” Jess turns to Adam. “And gentleman.”
Chuckling, Adam shoves his free hand into his pocket and shakes his head. “I’m a little scared for my life.”
“As you should be,” I add with a wink. “Let’s do this!” We clink our glasses together and throw back the first drink of Spring Break, dance music filling the room around us, our skin already sun kissed from the drive down.
And then, it begins.
I’VE NEVER BEEN TO KEY WEST before, but less than an hour on Duval Street and I already never want to leave. This place is alive. Every bar is packed, students from campuses all over the nation spilling out onto the streets, drinks in hand. The music is loud, the personalities colorful, the feeling — wild. These are the future business men and women, parents, doctors, lawyers, dropouts, travelers, teachers — but tonight, we’re just young.
We started our night at Fat Tuesday, filling our Bubba Kegs with frozen deliciousness and an extra shot to kick off the night right. We managed to run into Clinton and some of his brothers there and now we’re all cramming our way into the Coyote Ugly bar. Jess and Erin are hand in hand, arms swinging, voices carrying the tune of a popular country song as they head straight for the bathrooms. Breaking the seal, already.
“We’re heading to Irish Kevin’s right after this,” Clinton says, pointing his finger in my face as he slides by. “Car bombs, baby!” We high-five as he continues down the bar with his brothers, nearly all of them dressed in the same white frat tank. Omega Chi Wasted is in bold letters like a dictionary entry, complete with the definition: intoxication level – attempted by many, reached only by the elite.
“You know what I love about these hats?” my Little asks me as we slide up to the bar. “They hide the effects of drinking in Florida.” She lifts the snapback, revealing her crazy, slightly damp red hair underneath it. I laugh and tip mine up, showing the same hot mess beneath.
“And they’re perfect for selfies,” I add, pulling my phone from my pocket. I slide the camera icon up and flip the lens, my cheek touching Cassie’s as I push the shutter button.
“Love it!”
“We need one with the whole group,” I say, looking around for someone I could flirt into taking the photo for us.
“I can take that for you,” a southern voice twangs from behind me. When I turn, ready to hand my phone to a stranger, I stop mid-pass. Key West is crawling with attractive men right now, especially fraternity brothers, but this one just might take the cake. His dark blonde hair is hidden beneath an orange University of Tennessee hat, his teal-green eyes bright even in the dark bar. The first thing I notice is how his smile is almost too big for his face, but in the most charming way. His jaw is wide-set, his face clean-shaven, his body thin but toned. I don’t even care that he’s watching as my eyes scan him from head to toe and back up again.
“Go Vols,” I say, cocking a brow and finally handing him my phone. Then, I turn back to the bar and shout out, “Get together, everyone!”
We’re all a little past drunk at this point, so it takes a minute to get everyone paying attention and lined up in a way that doesn’t hide any faces. Hot Tennessee Guy takes several pictures, of which I’m sure only one is social media appropriate, before we all disperse and he slides the phone back into my hand.
“I’m Trevor,” he says, holding the phone between our hands for a moment.
“Trevor from Tenneesee.”
He nods, blushing slightly. I can’t stop staring at his All-American features.
“Skyler, from Florida.”
Trevor releases my hand and crosses his arms over his chest, his glorious arm muscles on full display. “You’re a little far from home, huh?”
I chuckle. “A whole five hours.”
“Well, I guess I’m lucky you decided to stay in your home state for Spring Break.”
“Who said you’re getting lucky?” I ask, crossing my arms to mirror him.
He shrugs. “The universe. When I happened to walk through that door over there as soon as you started scanning the room for trouble.”
“I see. So, Trevor, the trouble from Tennessee, what now?”
“Now,” he says, voice thick with a southern accent as he takes his place at the bar next to me. “I buy you a shot.”
A smile finds my lips just as Ashlei hops up on the bar behind Trevor. I shout out her name, beating my fists on the bar, and everyone else joins in once they realize what’s happening. The coyote girls are inviting other girls up on the bar to join them for a dance, but when Pour Some Sugar On Me starts playing and Ashlei whips out moves that put every single other girl to shame, all of our jaws drop. She’s owning the hairography, dropping down to her knees on the bar and crawling across it, even going as far as kissing Bo for show. The guys, of course, go absolutely ape shit at that. When she bites her bottom lip, swollen from her kiss with Bo, and turns around to twerk, the entire bar erupts in a frenzy. All I can do is shake my head — that girl is full of surprises.
“Looks like you found the sexiest girls in Key West,” a guy says to Trevor with a similar accent, clapping him on the back. I assume it’s one of his brothers, especially as more of them filter in around us.
“You read my mind,” Trevor agrees, holding out a liquid cocaine shot to me. I take it between my fingers with a wink before turning back to my sisters.
“Hey KKB! This handsome man just bought me a shot!”
All of my sisters in the bar cry out before starting a low, rumbling “Ohhh” that stretches out into the beginning of one of our chants.
Take a shot, take a shot, take a goddamn shot!
If you can’t take a shot like a KKB can,
Then you shouldn’t have a fucking shot in your hand!
Take a shot, take a shot, take a goddamn shot!
Everyone cheers and Trevor and I knock back the Jager and Bicardi 151 concoction. When we slam the glasses back on the bar, I use my thumb to wipe my bottom lip, my eyes finding his brothers all gaping behind him.
“Buckle up, boys.”