*Olivia*
“Whoo!” Dahlia yelled out as she slammed her cup down onto the wooden picnic table between us. The glass pitcher rattled with the force, the maroon syrup inside splashing over the edge.
“Are you sure Maria isn’t actually a bartender in disguise?” I asked, both curious and suspicious. I was on my third drink already and though there wasn’t much alcohol in it, I couldn’t stop drinking it.
“Of course not,” Dahlia rolled her eyes, pouring another glass of the ambrosia liquid. But then she paused, looking rather pensive. “Or at least, I don’t think so.”
The orange slices and cubed fruits in the drink plopped into the cup as she poured, and I chewed on what I suspected was a sangria-soaked strawberry from my glass.
“Either way, she makes the best drinks,” I shrugged, fully relaxed as I sent her a silly smile.
