i know your mind is set,

so i'll take what i can g e t . . .

〰️〰️〰️

I was dreaming that I was back in high school, late for class as usual, and the warning bell was ringing to a steady beat. Like someone pressed the button and it got stuck. Trying to walk through one of the hallways against the traffic of bodies that belonged to my entire class I graduated with was like trudging my feet through molasses. Everyone was pushing, shoving, barreling into one another, and no one was speaking. It felt so real but it made no sense.

It wasn't until I came out from the state of limbo I was in – somewhere between asleep and awake – that I realized my phone was going off. My own personal warning bell.

For a minute, I thought I was fine. It hadn't kicked in yet, the hangover. Then again I wasn't even sure if enough time had passed for me to actually be hungover.

I was still wasted on whiskey. Whose idiotic idea was it to go out last night?

Attempting to open my eyes was the most physically demanding thing I could've done, but I managed to barely crack one. As I went to lift my head and search for my phone hiding somewhere in my pillows, it all came crashing down on me.

I thought I was going to vomit on the spot and it felt like someone came at my skull with a sledgehammer. It was still pitch black in my bedroom which told me it was way too early. My phone wouldn't stop fucking buzzing. If I wanted to open my mouth to complain, I couldn't because my lips wouldn't move and I was scared to throw up.

The buzzing stopped if only for two seconds before it started up again, and a growl came from my throat. Finally, I found my phone lodged between the mattress and the headboard. Just when I was ready to turn off the alarm I'd set to wake me up so I could finish packing, I saw that instead I was getting an incoming call. I couldn't read the name or see the photo; all I could see was the green arrow to accept it.

Knowing what day it was, I figured it may have been important, so I swiped to answer and shut my eyes again as I laid my head back down.

I grunted for a greeting and my mom was already squawking in my ear.

"Bayla! What are you doing?" She demanded, flustered.

"I... uh." It was all I could get out without feeling like everything I'd eaten yesterday was going to resurface.

"Don't even bother. I know you were sleeping," she huffed. "You'd better get moving, we're almost at the airport. Sutton and Koa are there already. I've been calling and texting you for the last two hours since we left."

I swallowed thickly, holding back the urge to hurl as I mumbled, "Sorry."

"Just make sure you arrive in one piece, please. Sutton's already hysterical, your father is going into cardiac arrest just thinking about flying, and your grandparents got off on the wrong exit when they left Jersey. I'm hoping I don't need to peel you off the sidewalk or clean vomit out of your hair when you get here. That's the last thing I need."

"Okay, okay. I'm going," I said as I kicked my legs out from under the covers. Ziggy sleeping beside me didn't even move an inch.

"There's an accident on the Schuylkill right by the zoo which slowed things down for us a lot, and 95 is backed up because of construction. If you make us late for our flight so help me God, Bayla I will–"

"Mom! I'll be there. Goodbye."

I could hear her continue hollering about something as I hung up and tossed my phone aside. I'd have to deal with her later, but right now I didn't have a damn minute to spare.

Ziggy was still sound asleep as I staggered to the bathroom in the darkness, tripping over all of my belongings that should've been in my suitcase but were instead lying on the floor, hoping I didn't chip any of the nail polish on my pedicured toes. I hissed at the light once my fingers found the switch after feeling up the wall, then stumbled toward the sink to splash some cold water on my face. It wouldn't necessarily help me sober up by any means, but it was shocking enough to get me moving.

My suitcase couldn't go over the fifty pound limit or else I'd never hear the end of it from my mom, and seeing that I didn't have a scale anywhere nearby, I wasn't sure how I'd figure that out until I was in the airport. Also I really wasn't trying to spend money on however much the overweight baggage fee was. So using my horrible sense of judgement that came with or without a raging hangover in the works, I finished packing.

The one and only thing that wasn't crumpled up and carelessly stuffed in my suitcase was my bridesmaid dress because I knew Sutton would drown me in the hotel pool if I showed up with it looking like a scrunched ball of silk. Everything else was jammed in wherever I could make it fit. I'd seen a tip video online a while back that suggested gently rolling up every article of clothing while packing to prevent creasing, but in my drunken dying state, I had no time or patience for that.

Once I had tucked all my makeup and toiletries into a side pocket, I slammed the suitcase shut and spent two minutes trying to get it zipped. Almost broke a nail in the process. I was planning to change before heading to the airport, but it was looking like one of Gus' t-shirts that I always slept in was going to be my scrubby travel outfit. Since I was planning to be on the beach almost every day, my shoe options I was bringing was limited. Flip flops, one pair of heels, and the beaded barefoot sandals we were supposed to wear for the wedding. So I pulled on a pair of leggings and my leather jacket, slipped on my scuffed up white platform Vans, and called it a day.

By now, I'd woken up Ziggy with all the commotion I was causing. He was sitting up in bed, his curious brown eyes watching me as I crouched down by the edge of the mattress to cradle his spotted face with my hands.

"Dude, I'm gonna miss you so much," I rasped. He blinked a couple of times and nudged his nose closer to sniff my face. "Uncle Collin and Uncle Jax are gonna take care of you. Please be good while I'm gone. You're all I got."

He responded by staring at me.

"I love you."

Then he licked my chin.

I kissed his nose a few times before squeezing him with every ounce of strength I had. Without further ado I picked up my suitcase, threw my backpack around my shoulder, and made sure to shut all the lights off before exiting my bedroom. As if he knew I was leaving, Ziggy put his head down and sighed.

I smiled sadly at him. This was honestly almost worse than when I left Gus. I hated leaving Ziggy alone just going to work for a few hours, but over a week was just pure torture.

"I'll see you soon," I told him. He let out another dramatic exhale.

My phone buzzed in my hand with a new text notification, interrupting my heartbreaking goodbye I was having with my dog.

It was Sutton asking "where the fuck I was" followed by an abundance of exclamation points. When I saw the time change to 5:56 at the top of the screen, my heart jumped in my chest. I had a thirty minute ride to the airport (on a good day with no traffic – that was not today) in front of me, when I needed to be there right this second.

I was bound to be late. All latter feelings of being drunk while working toward a hangover vanished. Now I was panicking.

"Shit shit shit," I muttered before clambering down the steps to the second floor with my suitcase in tow.

I shoved open the door to Jax's room first to say goodbye to him and he was just starting to come to life. Once I found his body under the plethora of blankets on his bed, I pecked his cheek and he wished me a safe flight.

Collin was unconscious when I burst into his bedroom, messy blonde locks covering his face and a snore fluttering out of his open mouth. Stepping around empty rolls of film and miscellaneous clothes on the floor to reach his bed, I knelt down beside him.

"Yo, I'm about to leave for the airport. I'll see you Wednesday?" I said, shaking his shoulder to try and get him awake.

His face pinched together as he groaned aloud once he choked back a snore. I almost forgot how much we drank last night and how he definitely felt just as shitty as I did.

"Huh?" Was his answer.

"I'm leaving. For Hawaii. Now," I reiterated. "Don't move. I just wanted to say goodbye."

He shook his head as he slowly leaned up on an elbow like it was the most strenuous task. "I-it's fine. Let me drive you," he said, ruffling his hair around with his fingers.

"We don't have time, I'm already so fucking late," I urged. Though I had to admire that even in a zombie-like state, he was still a gentleman.

He sent me a sharp glance and replied, "You think an Uber is gonna get you there any faster than your best friend? Shut up and meet me downstairs."

I didn't ask anymore questions.

〰️〰️〰️

It was 6:45 exactly when we rolled up to the glass revolving doors of the departure section at the airport. I had an hour until our flight started boarding. In that hour I had to drop off my luggage, get through the monstrosity that was the security line, and throw some kind of breakfast down my throat. All while my family would be on my ass about being late.

Collin swerved into a spot against the curb where a taxicab just pulled away, put the car in park, and pulled out my suitcase from the backseat. In the meantime, I swung my backpack over my shoulder and made sure I had everything as I met him on the sidewalk.

He rolled my suitcase over to me and shook out his arms. "Let's hope they let you on the plane with that thing. It's fucking heavy," he quipped, unable to hide the smirk on his face.

"If not, you can go in my place," I said with an eye-roll. "Spend the whole week with my family."

"You mean that?"

I laughed as I wrapped him in a hug, rocking us back and forth a few times. "Love you. I'll see you on Wednesday."

"Try not to kill Sutton before then. I'd like to actually see the girl get married, you know, after all the shit she's put you through," he teased.

"I know, I know," I chuckled, letting him kiss my cheek before releasing me. "I'll do my best."

I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and started rolling it behind me on my way to the doors when he called out, "Save me a Piña Colada!"

"I will! Now stop talking, I gotta go!" I yelled back, stepping aside to let a tall man in a crisp suit brush past me.

Collin waved me off before jogging around to the other side of his car, and I took that as my cue that he was finally leaving. I sucked in a deep breath, straightened my posture, and hopped in the revolving doors.

I spotted my family right when I came out on the other side. The airport was buzzing with people; lost tourists scurrying around, late businessmen fed up with others not knowing where they were going, families with kids and their tiny backpacks that had nothing but a doll inside. The Barclay clan stood out, impossible to miss, demanding attention.

My mother and Sutton were inconspicuously chattering on like two hyenas plotting the death of their prey while looking too nice for being in an airport so early. My dad was seated on a bench with my grandmother next to him patting his back, and my grandfather sitting on her other side half-asleep with his mouth open. Koa was laughing quietly, probably having the most enjoyable conversation out of everyone with my mom's parents.

Much like my father, Duncan had a terrible fear of flying. He was a firefighter and the eldest sibling, for crying out loud. My dad was a retired cop. You'd think these guys wouldn't be scared of anything.

That was why my dad was getting a pep talk from his mom on the bench. It was why Duncan was missing. He and Asher were flying out by themselves on Wednesday night, along with everyone else coming to the wedding that couldn't afford to take off a whole week of work and/or school. Asher was so close to graduating high school that he didn't want to jeopardize his last few months of being a senior by skipping an entire week of class – bless his heart for being a responsible kid – and Duncan couldn't afford to take off too many days from the fire department.

Though Asher was the youngest out of us, he was definitely the most grounded and mature. He'd whip Duncan into shape just fine for their plane ride. I had faith they'd make it to Hawaii alive.

My grandfather jolted to life with a sneeze, causing my dad to jump out of his skin. He laughed at his son, then turned my way and spotted me.

"Here she is!" He cheered, arms stretched out in greeting.

All of their heads swiveled around so fast I thought they'd fly right off. My mom was the next to speak.

"Finally," she breathed, subtly rolling her eyes. The heels of her shoes clacked on the marble flooring above all the noise in the airport as she made her way over to me and quickly hugged me. "I told you there'd be traffic."

"What did you want me to do? Get out of the car and ask everyone to move?" I retorted. She just stepped back with pursed lips and let me say hello to everyone else.

Sutton, ever the blatant observationalist, came up to me in her matching lounge set consisting of a blue and white tie-dye cropped sweatshirt with leggings and said, "Who wears a leather jacket on a plane? That seems uncomfortable."

"Don't start with me," I hissed in her ear when she had her arms around me.

She drew back, a grimace on her face as she looked me up and down. I couldn't tell if it was because I totally still smelled like whiskey or from my raggedy getup. Probably a combination of both.

"Alright people, let's get moving! I have everyone's boarding passes right here," my mom barked out. Her shrill voice was unmistakable, and no amount of ruckus in the building could mask it.

By the time we all checked our bags, made it through security, and found our terminal, I had ten minutes until they started letting people on the plane to find a bagel or any piece of bread that my stomach could digest. I knew we weren't the first boarding group which bought me a little more time, but knowing my luck they'd fly off without me because I was busy waiting in line for breakfast.

I left my backpack with my dad and asked if anyone else wanted something from the tiny cafe I saw on our walk to the terminal. Sutton jumped up, literally, at the offer, so we scurried there together.

"What do you want? My treat," I told Sutton while we took a second to scan the menu.

"Where's Gus?"

Since she chose to ignore my offer, I rolled my eyes and stepped up to the cashier patiently standing behind the register. The girl blinked at me a few times, adjusting the brim of her hat branded with the cafe's logo. Either I looked exceptionally ugly today or I didn't realize just how much the stench of whiskey clung to me from last night.

"Can I get a plain bagel, toasted with butter and..." I trailed off, pointing to Sutton who was squinting at the LED menu board and tapping her chin like it were a life-or-death decision.

She hummed for too long. "I'll probably just get coffee on the plane. Uh..." she thought aloud. "And a chocolate croissant."

I handed over my debit card to the cashier to pay and she gave it back to me a few moments later. As we shifted over to the other end of the counter where food pickup was, Sutton patted my back and chirped obnoxiously, "Thanks, sis!"

"Yeah, sure. To answer your question, Gus is not here," I switched topics. When I looked up at her, I could practically feel her muscles working against her Botox to let her eyebrows knit together. "He's flying in Wednesday with his parents instead. I told him he could."

"Whoa, what the hell? I thought you guys like, wanted to kill each other. When did you get on speaking terms?" She asked.

"He texted me last night this huge thing about how sorry he was and that if I really didn't want him at the wedding, he wouldn't come. I thought it was kind of sweet for him to reach out and say that, so I told him he could still come if he wants," I explained with a shrug.

She spluttered in disbelief, snatching her croissant out of the hands of a barista when he came over with our order without even sparing him a glance. I took my bagel from him with a smile and a soft "thank you".

"This is crazy. Why'd you do that?" She scoffed as we started hurriedly making our way back to our gate.

"I really don't know. Part of me wants to make us work and is hopelessly thinking this could help. The other part is just doing this to make you happy with your guest list."

"Wait." Her little white sneakers stopped on a dime as she grabbed onto my shoulder, asking breathlessly, "You did this for me?"

I shrugged, again. "For you. For me. Whatever, same difference."

The confusion on her features morphed into gratitude then. It was annoying how crystal clear and radiant her skin was. She made twenty-six look like it was the best age to ever be.

"Bayla, you're the best," she said before crushing me in a hug.

"Something like that," I muttered to myself.

Either Sutton didn't hear it or chose to disregard it. She seized my wrist and led the way back to our family, where we scarfed down our last minute breakfast and mentally prepared ourselves to get on this flight.

Hawaii, here we fucking come.

〰️〰️〰️

- can y'all believe it?!? we are FINALLY at the wedding. it feels like it's been 4 years in the making. i guess it's actually been more than that for me considering i've had this story in my head for-fucking-ever. SUTTON IS GETTING MF MARRIED. BAYLA IS ALMOST FREE. I CAN SEE THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL. WE MADE IT FOLKS.

this chapter turned out to be a lot longer than i thought and i really like the outcome considering i'm still writing on my fucking phone lol!!!! THOUGHTS???? i know there's so much buildup to this wedding i hope it's worth it lol.

shit's about to hit the fan. i hope you guys are ready for it. thank you so much for reading. thanks for sticking by me while i'm severely struggling without a computer. i truly appreciate it more than you know. i love ya LOTS.

xoxo, sabbbycat