Chapter 152

Chapter 152
Alexander

The ride back to campus felt way too quiet after the weekend hurricane that was our house. Mom, Dad, and I had been holed up in that massive estate, every corner filled with people, laughter, arguments over board games, the occasional Nerf dart to the chest, and more food than I wanted to count. Now, crammed into the car, it was just us four, and I had this weird mix of relief and nostalgia gnawing at me.

My head throbbed like a drumline from the first beer adventure, which was not just one night but two nights in a row. Dad was egged on by Uncle Lucas and Grandpa Jullian. I’d thought I was invincible, adult enough to handle it, but apparently, my metabolism had other ideas. Lila, of course, looked fresh as a daisy beside me, with no hint of the weekend shenanigans, smirking like she was secretly enjoying my misery.

“You’re so dramatic,” she said, tossing a granola bar at me. I caught it one-handed, trying to ignore the spinning in my skull.
“Dramatic?” I groaned. “I feel like a zombie who just failed at being a human.”
Dad glanced at me from the driver’s seat, one eyebrow raised. “You’ve got one thing right; you survived. That’s the point.”

“Barely,” I muttered, sipping the water Mom shoved at me. “I mean, survive isn’t the same as thriving.”
Mom chuckled softly from the passenger side, glancing at me over her sunglasses. “You’ll learn to thrive eventually; for now, hydration is your friend,” she said.
Lila leaned back, arms crossed, smirk widening. “Also, you owe me five bucks. You promised to share your strategic hangover survival tips after last night, and I fully expect a dissertation,” she said.

I groaned again, the motion making my stomach protest. “Fine. Step one: never trust your dad or mine and Grandpa to make a night educational. Step two: hydrate. Step three: regret, regret, regret.”
Mom laughed. “That’s… actually useful advice.”

Dad just shook his head, smirking in that way that told me he’d already lived this exact horror and somehow enjoyed watching me repeat history. “Your grandfather, well, technically mine, but you call him Arthur, don’t you? went through this exact thing at eighteen. Sneaking out, thinking he was untouchable, he ended up drunk somewhere he shouldn’t. Lesson learned the hard way.” Dad said

I winced. “Wait… Dad, you mean… you’re saying I’m following history? Like… classic lineage disaster?”
Dad chuckled. “You’re not following history, son. You’re rewriting it with your own style,” he said.
Lila snorted. “Rewriting history? More like rewriting disaster.”
I shot her a look. “Thanks for the support, cousin.”

She shrugged, still smiling. “Hey, someone’s got to document it.”

The road hummed beneath us, and the familiar landscape of the city passing by reminded me that college life awaited. Real classes, deadlines, and actual responsibilities, not that we didn’t technically have some responsibility over the weekend. But I was already dreading sitting in lectures after four days of chaos, laughter, barbecue, and too many inside jokes.

“Think we should prep for classes?” Mom asked quietly, eyes on the road. “Or just… roll with it?”
I groaned again, but there was a grin tugging at my face. “I’m thinking… roll with it. Chaos has prepared me for anything. Except maybe calculus.”
Lila laughed, elbowing me lightly. “Yeah, right. You’ll wing it like you always do. Somehow charm the professors into thinking you knew exactly what you were doing,” she muttered.

“Charm,” I muttered, closing my eyes against the sunlight. “Yes, that’s my secret weapon. That, and barely functional caffeine levels.”
Dad glanced at me from the rearview mirror. “Just… keep your head in the game. And don’t let this weekend give you ideas about partying too early in the semester.” he said 

“Pfft,” I said, waving him off. “I’ll behave… mostly.”
Lila snorted again, clearly amused by my definition of “mostly.”

The campus appeared in the distance, sprawling and familiar. Lila and I had grown into this place over the past year, navigating classes, friends, and the occasional chaos without parental intervention. Mom and Dad had been more observers this time, letting us handle ourselves, occasionally offering advice that we mostly ignored because, well, we were adults now. Technically.

“Remember,” Mom said softly, “We’re still here if you need anything. College life’s one thing, but family’s forever,” she said.
I nodded, sipping the last of my water. “I know, Mom. Thanks.”

Dad smirked. “And don’t forget… you’ve got Lila. She’s already proven to be your partner-in-crime, survival expert, and occasional voice of reason. Use her,” he said.
Lila elbowed me playfully. “Occasional is generous.”
I grinned, leaning back. “Fair. I’ll take what I can get.”

As we pulled into our parking spot, I felt a weird mixture of excitement and dread. College was waiting, but so was life, real life, responsibility, and every challenge we’d been prepping for in small doses since forever. I had survived family chaos, fake drama, first beer disasters, and the subtle art of keeping Lila alive and semi-sane through all of it. I could handle this.

Lila jumped out first, spinning around to face me with that smirk I knew too well. “Ready to survive another week of adulting?” she asked.
I stretched dramatically, groaning. “As ready as one can be with a hangover. Lead the way, fearless cousin.”
She laughed, tugging her backpack onto her shoulder. “Fearless is me. You? Well… you’re mostly competent, I guess. Let’s go,” she said with a laugh.

I followed her across the campus, trying to ignore the pounding in my skull and instead focus on the rhythm of life here, the chatter of students, the breeze brushing past, and the familiar scent of books and coffee and possibility.

Yeah. I was eighteen. An adult. Dangerous. Smart. Capable. And still tangled in chaos, laughter, and family in a way I wouldn’t trade for anything.
College awaited. And so did Lila, my partner-in-crime.
And if the world thought it could slow us down? Well… it didn’t know us yet.

College smelled like coffee, overpriced ambition, and bad decisions waiting to happen. The second Lila and I stepped back onto campus, it felt like the universe cracked its knuckles and said, "Round two, let’s go."

I adjusted my backpack, still slightly hungover in that annoying lingering way where my brain worked fine but my body felt like it was buffering reality.
Lila stretched beside me like she owned the place. Which, honestly, she kind of did. She walked through campus like she’d been born here. People nodded at her, waved, and called her name. She had that thing about her—confident without trying too hard, sarcastic without being mean, and somehow terrifying when she wanted to be.

I, on the other hand, had developed a reputation for being… complicated.
And right now, that complication had a name.
Her name was Aria.