I'm tipsy and I'm aware that I'm losing most of my few inhibitions. I guess this is when I'm friendliest and the most carefree, when the part of me that wants to connect with everyone without fear of being judged and hurt...I'm also  vaguely aware that tomorrow I'll be kicking myself in the butt for my behavior...but dang Skylar's lips are soft and it's the best kiss I've had in a long time. I'm aware of his hands starting to move to my pants and I contemplate whether I really want to give him access. On one hand I have been feeling rather "sparkly" lately and using Handy Andy hasn't really been satisfying, but that doesn't mean that because he's a good kisser he's a good lover. Well I better not make a decision as inebriated as I am. As nice as the tinge of being beer tipsy feels it's not enough to reinforce a probably bad decision. 

Skylar's hands are now undoing my pants. "I don't want to have sex with you," I tell him bluntly. Previously I would have said something like " I'm on my period" but I hate having to lie to get someone to not do something. So I'm going to give Skylar the benefit of the doubt that he's not one of those assholes that force their will on others. Skylar scowls at my words. Well, my benefit of doubt was wasted.

"You can't be serious," he growls in what he must think is a sexy voice, his hand gropes my boob and squeezes. My knee instinctively rises to his crotch and he lets out a morbid groan.

"You fucking bitch!" he screams at me. Whatever, it's about time to found Sam and got out of here. Drinking alcohol and partying is only fun before you're sober and realize what a waste of time this is. I suppose I need to give Sam a new definition of fun and adventure. I walk down the hall and notice that most of Sam's group have already left except the girl that I had a little tiff with earlier. The left-overs of the group don't really notice me except the girl who glares at me. She must have a thing for Skylar. Poor girl. Skylar's probably aware of it and uses it to his advantage. How much respect does he have if he so brutishly hooks up with another girl in front of her? Maybe I should tell her that he's not worth her time...but she'd just resent me more, who am I to her anyway?

I see Sam stomp out of a room and slam the door in some guys face. I know that I should probably be worried about why he stomped out of that room but I'm more preoccupied with the thought of frivolous of  the older generation who grew up in poverty when they make money. I mean, how many rooms does this place have? Don't people get lost looking for the kitchen? Sam looks murderous. He spots me and signals for me to come with him. I hope that we're getting out of here. I skip towards him. 

"So what happened?" I ask him.

"Stupid guy didn't want to use a condom," he replies, "and yours?"

"Stupid guy didn't know what consent is," I tell him. He laughs and we walk out of the place. The night breeze is nice, but I'm wearing an over-sized sweater. I wonder if Sam is feeling cold, he's in just a dress shirt.

"Did you make that yourself?" I ask him. He nods. He's suddenly quiet and introspective. We continue to walk down the road, further away from the library. I check my watch, it's three in the morning. We're in a place that I recognize now. It's close to a river. I take Sam by the hand and begin to pull him to the river. Surprisingly he doesn't resist at all and let's me lead him quietly to the river. 

When I was still in primary school I would walk this path with my cousins when my family was still close. It was ridiculously far from where we would be living but we had sweet teeth and junk food bellies and would do anything to fill them. We used the path along the river as a short cut to the shops. After high school when I was recovering from trauma and dealing with anxiety I used to walk to the river and write stories about anything I would be feeling at that moment. 

I go to the river's bank and sit down. Nostalgia. This place feels good. I guess this is where I became determined to become a writer. I still love to read all the things I used to write here. Sometimes when I would be in a creative block I would watch Troye Sivan's videos and other YouTubers who helped me realize that being different wasn't a bad thing. Nor was not being what people expected you to be. 

Sam sits right next to me and glances at the river. There are white flowers that are illuminated against the moonlight floating in it. He looks at me. "Is that your favorite flower?" He asks me. I nod. It's one of my favorites. The lotus. Once upon a time there was a landowner here who planted these lotus. I never intentionally researched about them, just watched an episode of Boys Over Flowers when an old man commented that the lotus is a strong flower that grows in the darkest and toughest conditions but still blooms. 

"Did you know that the lotus struggles to grow in the mud..."

"Boys Over Flowers,"I say to him. He laughs. 

"No actually it was some other K-Drama," he says

"What's the name?"

"Hana Yori Dango," 

"That's just the Japanese version of the name,"

"There's no getting one over you is there?"

I shake my head and we both burst out laughing. This is a new river memory. I look at the flowers in the river. They're in full bloom. And in that moment, reminiscing and making new memories that won't fade with the night...I am too.