A week’s passed. And he’s barely talked to me. He’s spent half of the nights with Sofia and the other half at the frat. We’ve probably had three whole conversations, and none of them have been about what I said. We ate dinner together twice alone in silence. I don’t even know what to say to him. I sort of wish I could take it back, but knowing he’s taking it this way, I’m barely even hurt, mostly just mad. We were sharing things, right? We were laying next to one another, sharing that space, saying those things, being honest. That’s what our walks are for! Were for? I don’t even know. He’s the one who asked who I had feelings for.
You know what? I don’t even care! It’s party night. I’m three drinks in, and that’s totally cool with me. He can be a homophobic asshole or whatever the fuck he wants to be. ‘Cause I’m the same way I was the night I realized I had feelings for him: making out with a random dude at a party blasting Shots by LMFAO with my hand up his shirt. This time, though, Syd’s in the next room, the entire reason that I’m even here instead of moping in my bed, waiting for Noah to come home and cuddle me and tell me he feels the same way and apologize for being an avoidant asshole. I love Syd. Syd is great! Good old Syd. A party is exactly what I need to get fuck-douche-ugly-ass-bitch-mean-evil-fucking-ass straight boys out of my head.
The thing I do not need to do is hook up with this dude. He’s not cute. What was I thinking? I’m not drunk enough for this. I shuffle through the crowd to get another drink, and spot Syd out of the corner of my eye. She grins and rushes over to me, leaving the girl whose lap she was sitting in giving her a pouty face. She flicks back the universal “one sec” sign to her and marches right up next to me and slaps me on the shoulder. I flinch and the booze I’m pouring nearly misses my cup.
“Hey, babe,” she shouts, trying to be heard over the music. LMFAO is gone, replaced by Kanye. I only know Kanye from ET by Katy Perry, so I have no idea what this song is. “How’s that drink tasting?”
“It’s great!” I scream back, knowing my voice is going to feel like it’s coated in a thin layer of nails tomorrow, not caring much. The way I knock back half a cup of vodka and then grab some rum to mix with Coke on the other side of the kitchen is going to hurt me way worse, anyway. I try to shove past the dude in my way, but I am small, and he is not, so I don’t end up making much headway. Syd notices and slithers past him, the slippery bitch, and grabs the Coke for me. She slides back around the dude on the other side and he doesn’t even notice. He also looks stoned out of his fucking mind, so that probably doesn’t help his level of perception at the moment. I pour the Coke in and take a swig. Then I grimace. Too much Coke. I add more rum, and Syd watches until she grabs my hand mid-pour.
“O-kay, maybe that’s enough there, champ. I’d rather not get another punch on my ambulance frequent-rider card. At least, not tonight.” I shake my head at her, get my hand free, and pour until the cup is filled to the top with about 75% rum and at least some Coke. It’s a weird clear but tinted brown color, sort of like when you go to the bathroom, and--Never mind. “Dude, are you trying to die tonight?”
“Maybe. Would that concern you?”
I can barely hear her over the thudding of the beat.
“Yeaaaahhhh… It would. I’m your friend. I would definitely be concerned if you died. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you’re being an asshole. Which isn’t totally out of character for you, but you’re never like this to me. So, what’s going on?”
“I’m too sober to answer that question,” I tell her over my shoulder, then I take another hefty gulp of my drink and shudder with the heat of the alcohol bleeding down my throat. My head feels light, and I am most definitely not sober. But I’m still too sober to talk about Noah, the ginormous, stupid, insidious, mean, ugly, rude, stubborn, assholeish… uh, other-mean-words-here douchebag.
Syd goes to grab my drink, but I notice and sway the other way so it’s out of her reach. She smirks at me, then grabs my wrist and pulls me to the dance floor. The dance floor is actually just the house’s living room. It has a big L-shaped couch lining the back wall, the ottoman pushed up against it so it’s out of the way. The TV has weird colors moving on it, and the surround-sound speakers are pulsating with noise. I couldn’t hear Syd now if I wanted to. And I kind of don’t. I don’t need to talk, I need to get wasted. I need to fucking… party harder!
I’m horrible at dancing, so I mostly just bounce with the beat. Which is inconvenient holding a very full drink, but that’s okay… they have hardwood floors. And they’ll have to clean up puke tomorrow. Maybe I should stay to help? Wait, I don’t even know anyone here. You know, the last time i went out partying this hard, Noah made sure I felt better the next day. Now that’s… not going to happen. It’s his fucking fault, anyway. He didn’t need to be this shitty to me.
I bounce up and down and grind up against anyone that comes near, and it feels good. What was I doing, crushing on a straight boy, anyway? He’d be all robotic and awkward doing this. He’d be uncomfortable to be seen in public. And I deserve to be shown off. I shouldn’t have to hide--we shouldn’t have to hide our sexuality!
I take another drink, and find my cup practically half what it was when I got onto the dance floor. I’ve also lost Syd. Which is cool. I miss her though. Maybe I should find her? I can barely move straight. I just keep bouncing, at least for a minute.
The song switches, and I get a whiff of weed, and I’m now hyper aware of the lack of Syd in my life. I just… Maybe I should just get more to drink. I brush through the crowd, and I feel like I’m in one of those Disney movies where the jungle is twice as big as it was when the hero entered. Like the bodies around me are taller than they were and that they’re actively moving to trap me in here. My breathing quickens, and I’m starting to get anxious. I never get like this. At least, I haven’t since I got to college and met…
Fuck. No. He’s not here, and he can never help me out again. Gotta get through the crowd. Why am I acting like this is anything bad? I wanted to be here. This is fun! I like wobbling around while my vision goes blurry and everything is buzzing in that lovely, pleasant, vaguely uncomfortable way. I bounce again with the beat and some girl starts cheering me on. I try to take a drink while I’m jumping, and end up spilling on myself.
The other side of the dance floor is still so far away. And I cannot make it through the forest of people at my current state. The dance floor… it calls me. But so does vodka. Never mix your alcohols! But like, I’m here, mixing them. Vodka, rum, vodka, rum, beer chaser, vodka, rum, Coke, vodka, tequila, rum, vodka… I haven’t had that many shots yet. I’m somewhere between… five and eighteen.
I am going to die tomorrow.
I make it to the other side of the dance floor without realizing that I have, and about five songs have passed. And my drink is officially dry. Not even a drop left. I lean over the breakfast bar in the kitchen, but I can’t reach the bottles from there, so I hoist myself up all the way, my belly squashing on the counter and my ass and legs out in the walkway. Someone smacks my ass. I do not acknowledge them.
I can only acknowledge Syd, who pointedly grabs the bottle out of my hands just as I finally reach my hands around its slimy little neck. My motor functions are monumentally lower than they should be. Syd narrows her eyebrows at me and puts the bottle behind her. Then, she grabs another, and another, all sliding around the same stoner from before, swaying silently in the middle of the kitchen. A couple look at her with brief irritation before they grab the bottles and pour into their own drinks.
My stomach hurts.
“What are you doing up there? Get down. Liam, get down,” Syd says, acting like she’s talking to a silly little kid. I realize that I am still belly-down on a breakfast bar, so I probably deserve it, but it still stings. Well, kind of. I’m awfully numb. My brain is numb. It’s nice. This is what I needed. Fuck Noah. Fuck Noah! I don’t need the idea of him coming to sweep me off my drunk feet again like he did months ago to have fun! I’m having a great time.
“Syd, gimme the bottle back,” I slur. Holy shit, do I slur. Wow. The world is blurry now, this is so strange. I’m not even that drunk. I thought I wasn’t at least.
I get back to my feet, and now I’m REALLY woozy. Wow. My stomach is a swirling blizzard of too many drinks and those tacos I had for dinner. I do not feel well. I hold onto the bar to steady myself and Syd rushes over.
“Liam? Let’s… get you to a bathroom.”
I grab her for her sturdiness but she nearly collapses under the amount of weight I toss at her at once. Then, I lean to the other side to give her some space, and nearly fall. I can sort of see people criss-crossing in front of us, pausing to stare, kissing against walls, dancing to the music, going to grab more drinks. But it’s also sort of a haze. I’m kind of in a haze. My stomach hurts. Syd steps forward, and I shuffle with her.
“Syd, babe, s’fine. I’m all good. Just need some water. And bread. Do we have bread?”
“This isn’t my house, Liam, I’m not going to steal anyone’s bread.”
“Will you help me on the train home?”
“Well, someone has to make sure you get back in one piece.”
“But you’re small. I’m big. You are a little pretty dainty lady--”
“I mean like yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m not--”
“Shh,” I whisper, putting my finger up to her lips. My saliva is getting bitter. I think I’m sweating. I danced that hard? “You didn’t let me finish. You are a little pretty lady that could kill a man. But I don’t wanna be exposed to the violence, and--”
“Lee, let’s just get you to the--”
I stop walking.
“What?” she asks.
“Only Noah calls me Lee.”
“Um, since when?”
“Since only I call him Noey. Not that it even matters, because he hates me--”
“What?”
“Oh, I didn’t tell you. I forgot. Uh, I’m drunk. And my breath tastes weird. Anyways, yeah, I told Noah I love him. Well, I didn’t tell him I love him. But I kinda do. Did! I don’t anymore. We don’t like straight boys. They aren’t valid. Anyways, we went on a walk, and walks are, like, sacred and stuff, and we were sharing feelings, and then he asked me who I liked! And I told him that I liked him! Is that wrong? I don’t think so! It was like the perfect time. I thought we were close enough that he wouldn’t care even if he was uncomfortable with me liking him. I thought he wouldn’t care! I don’t even fucking know. I don’t even fucking know, Syd. How could he drop me? How could he drop me like that?”
“Okay, so, I love you a whole lot. You’re going to go into that bathroom and you’re going to try to use it and I’m going to stand outside. Okay?”
“But Syd… We should talk about this! I should have told you!”
“Okay! Yeah! We can talk later! Please don’t puke on my shoes!”
“I’m not gonna puke.”
“Lee, your skin is clammy, you’re sweating, and--” Someone brushes past us forcefully to the point where I can barely hear the rest of what she says. “--and you’re all pale and you’ve had so much to drink… Just go in the bathroom.”
“I’m not gonna puke! I think you’re just--"
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