Friday night had a hum of electricity running through campus. Posters for org events plastered bulletin boards, laughter spilled from dorm windows, and the scent of barbecue smoke floated through the humid air.
Amos was the one who rallied them.
"Come on," he said, cornering Gems and Marky after their late afternoon library session. "There's a party tonight at El Patio. Free drinks if you know the right people. We need this."
"I don't party," Gems said flatly, her eyes still on her notes.
"You don't," Amos corrected, "but you should. Look, we've been killing ourselves with research for a week. RV's not grading us tomorrow. Let's breathe a little before we suffocate under ancient stones."
Marky chuckled. "He has a point."
Gems shot him a look. "Not you too."
But Amos was relentless. "Ry's coming. Au's coming. You think I'm gonna let those two drink without me? Nope. You're both coming too."
That was how, hours later, Gems found herself outside El Patio — a rooftop bar alive with neon lights, loud music, and bodies pressed close in a blur of laughter and sweat.
Ry was already there, lounging against the bar in a crisp white shirt, glass in hand. Rica stood beside him, her hand laced through his. She was pretty in a gentle, understated way, her dark hair falling in waves, her eyes sharp as if constantly measuring people.
Au arrived with Bob, who was taller than everyone else in the group and carried himself with the quiet protectiveness of someone used to shielding others. He had the build of an athlete, though his soft smile made him approachable.
And finally, Liz — Amos' girlfriend — swept in with a burst of energy, wearing a flowy dress and laughing as if she already owned the night.
The seven of them claimed a corner table. Bottles clinked, plates of nachos appeared, and the air filled with overlapping conversations.
Amos raised his beer. "To the greatest thesis in history!"
"To passing!" Au chimed in.
"To actually making history fun," Ry added with a grin.
Gems didn't lift her glass. She sipped her soda quietly, watching the others.
---
3. The Trip Talk
It didn't take long for the conversation to circle back to the thesis.
"So, Ry tells me you're all planning to actually visit these roads?" Rica asked, raising a brow.
"Yep," Amos said proudly. "World's oldest roads, baby. While everyone else is rotting in the library, we'll be walking where gladiators bled and merchants died of dysentery."
Liz tilted her head. "Sounds… romantic?"
"Depends on your idea of romance," Au quipped.
"Or sanity," Gems muttered.
Marky glanced at her. There was no mockery in his gaze — only quiet respect. He admired that Gems spoke her mind even when it meant standing alone.
Ry, of course, pounced. "Don't tell me you're still not convinced, Gemma. Look around." He gestured at their table, their drinks, the neon glow. "We're young. We're alive. And we've been stuck in classrooms all our lives. This is our chance to step into history. Literally."
"Or step into danger," Gems said.
Rica laughed lightly. "You sound like my mom."
"Someone has to."
Bob, who had been silent, finally spoke. His voice was calm but firm. "Traveling's not just fun and games. If you're serious, you need to plan properly. Routes, safety, supplies."
Liz leaned forward, nodding. "Exactly. If you're going to drag yourselves to some half-buried road in the desert, you can't just wing it. Get a tour guide. Book places to stay. Rent a vehicle. Don't act like a bunch of clueless backpackers."
Amos grinned. "That's why I love you, babe. You make sense when we don't."
Liz rolled her eyes but smiled.
Ry waved dismissively. "Relax. I'll handle it. My dad's contacts can book everything. Hotels, drivers, whatever."
"Still," Liz insisted, "at least have a guide who knows the terrain. You don't want to end up in the wrong part of the desert, or lost in some ruin."
"Aw, what's life without a little risk?" Amos teased.
"Short," Liz shot back, and the group burst into laughter.
Even Gems smiled reluctantly.
---
Disregarding the Horror
As the drinks flowed, so did the stories.
Marky mentioned the crucifixions along the Appian Way. Amos leaned in with gory details about corpses left to rot. Au wrinkled her nose.
"Gross. Why are you guys so obsessed with the creepy parts? Can't we focus on the cultural exchange? Like… silk, spices, perfumes?"
Rica nodded. "Yeah. The world's oldest roads don't have to mean just death. They meant connection. Imagine the stories of women walking those roads, carrying goods, making trade deals. That's empowering."
Bob added, "Or think of the architecture. The engineering. Those stones have outlasted empires."
Ry raised his glass. "Exactly! See? Everyone's thinking too small. Sure, horror makes good trivia, but what we'll gain is bigger. A thesis that will blow RV's mind. A chance to say we've been where history began. And, honestly…" He smirked. "Bragging rights for life."
Amos whooped. "Hell yes. I'm already picturing my Instagram caption: Just chillin' where Spartacus' homies died. #RoadTrip."
Gems shook her head, but the excitement around her was infectious. She felt herself being pulled into their current despite herself.
Marky noticed. He watched the way her eyes softened as she listened, the way she chewed on her straw when she was thinking hard. There was something steady about her presence — a quiet strength.
When the others laughed at Amos' joke, Marky leaned closer, speaking softly so only Gems could hear.
"You don't have to agree just because everyone else does."
She blinked, caught off guard. "I don't."
"I know. That's why I admire you."
Her cheeks warmed, and she quickly looked away.
---
5. The Pact
As the night deepened, Liz suddenly clinked her glass with a spoon. "Alright, enough waffling. Let's make it official. Are we doing this trip or not?"
The table hushed. Seven pairs of eyes shifted around.
Amos raised his hand immediately. "In."
Au followed. "In."
Ry smirked. "Obviously in." Rica squeezed his hand. "In too."
Bob hesitated, then sighed. "Fine. If it keeps you safe, Au, I'm in."
Liz rolled her eyes but raised her glass. "Guess I'm in too. Someone has to keep you idiots alive."
Marky looked at Gems. His expression was gentle, almost pleading. "It could really make our work stand out, Gem. But… only if you're okay with it."
All eyes turned to her.
For a moment, Gems felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff. The music thudded in her ears, the neon lights blurred, and she thought of her father's calloused hands, of her mother's tired smile. Was this worth risking?
But the expectant faces around her, the warmth of belonging she rarely felt — it pressed against her resistance.
She lifted her glass slowly. "Fine. I'm in."
A cheer erupted. Glasses clinked, laughter rose, and in that rooftop bar, seven students sealed a pact with nothing more than alcohol and bravado.
None of them realized the roads they toasted to had been waiting centuries.
---
6. Aftermath
Later that night, Gems stepped out onto the quiet balcony, away from the noise. The city stretched below, alive and restless.
Marky followed, leaning on the railing beside her.
"You really didn't want to say yes," he said gently.
She sighed. "I didn't. But they were all so… sure. And maybe…" She trailed off, searching the skyline. "Maybe I'm tired of always saying no."
Marky studied her face in the dim light. He wanted to tell her she didn't need to change, that her strength was in standing firm. But instead, he said, "Whatever happens, we'll figure it out together."
She glanced at him, startled by the sincerity in his voice. For a moment, the noise of the party faded, and it was just the two of them — the scholar carrying her family's hopes and the quiet boy who admired her courage.
Then Amos shouted from inside, breaking the moment. "Lovebirds! Come back, we're taking shots!"
Gems rolled her eyes, but her lips curved into a small smile. Marky laughed, following her back in.
Neither noticed the way the wind whistled across the rooftop, carrying a sound almost like footsteps on stone.