“Sorry, he’s wasted,” Stephanie apologizes for him. She sounds nicer when she isn’t screeching at me through a megaphone.
“You know it!” Todd shouts at no one in particular.
“I feel like I haven’t seen you around school, Ben,” this one guy says. He must be one of Todd’s friends. They have the same look, tall guys with short brown hair and weirdly strong jaws. He also might be the least drunk of the group. Not counting me and Nathan.
“I moved here back in January,” I say.
“Yeah … you’re in my Calc class,” a girl says, and she seems vaguely familiar, but I have no idea if we are actually in the same class or not. “He’s really smart.”
“Oh, thanks.” My face is getting hotter.
“Seriously, I think he’s got the highest grade in the class,” she adds.
“Oh, geez, Em.” Todd starts to laugh. “Go ahead and blow him already, we’ll give you two some privacy.”
“While we’re at it, we’ll give you and your left hand some alone time too.” Em rolls her eyes, and the room fills with “oooos.” Todd seems unbothered though. He just plucks another drink off the counter and wraps his arm around my shoulder.
“Come on, Benny boy here’s very attractive.” Todd winks at me and then looks at Em. “And you’re newly single.”
“Hey, um …” I tap on Todd’s bicep, hoping he’ll let go. But I’m pretty sure his grip only tightens. “Todd, I can’t—”
Breathe. I can’t breathe.
“Leave him alone, Todd,” someone says.
“Oh, please. Ben, wouldn’t you love to take the lovely Emily Rodgers on a date next weekend?”
“I …” I stammer. “Can’t …” It actually feels impossible to breathe. And I don’t know if it’s because of Todd’s grip, his words, the pairs of eyes staring at me now, the alcohol, or some combination of them all.
“Please don’t tell me you’re into the fellas, Ben. I like you and all, and I’m cool with the homos, but I don’t think—”
I need to leave, right now.
“Hey, Ben, you want to go dance?” Nathan leaps off the counter, and before I can answer, his arm is around mine. I don’t care, because this finally gets Todd off me. Nathan pulls me in close, leading me out of the kitchen and back down the hallway.
“Nathan, wait.” But he keeps dragging me along. “Nathan.” I yank back but he still won’t let go. “Stop!” God, he’s got a strong grip. At least we’ve stopped moving. “I don’t want to dance,” I finally say, worried he won’t hear me.
“Oh.” He grins. “I wasn’t serious. You just looked like you wanted to leave back there.”
I slouch against the wall. “Oh. Well, thank you.”
“Sorry. If I’d known Todd was that wasted, I wouldn’t have let him drag you along. When he’s drunk his boundaries totally disappear.”
“Yeah, I can tell,” I say, rubbing at my neck. I’m sure the skin there is red by now.
“Do you want to go?”
“Has it been half an hour?”
Nathan pulls out his phone. “You know you don’t really have to stay, right? We’ve still got ten more minutes, but we can leave if you want to. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“Can we just find Sophie or Mel?” I rub my elbows. Most people have migrated into the living room, where the music is the loudest, but the hallway and dining room are still pretty crowded too.
“Yeah, sure.” Nathan glances around. “They’re probably dancing.” He takes my hand. If I let go, then chances are high I’ll get lost in this place.
We push through the crowds in the living room. Apparently, this is the designated dance area. But neither Meleika nor Sophie seem to be here. Nathan’s right though, there is something about watching other white people who think what they’re doing can legally be called dancing.
After that, we head toward the dining room, and still nothing, but then I spot them hanging around the stairs. Meleika’s right above Sophie, both draped over the railing, both looking bored out of their minds.
“You two look like you’ve had a rough night.” Sophie leans forward, resting her head on her arms.
“And it’s not even nine.” Meleika chuckles, taking a sip of her drink. “Lightweights.”
“We had a run-in with Todd,” Nathan says, before shooting a look at Meleika. “Would’ve been shorter if someone hadn’t left us there.”
Meleika laughs again, and then asks me: “Douche of the year or douche of the year?”
I try to laugh, but that sour taste in my mouth has moved to my stomach. There’s something about the crowd that’s putting me on edge, the way everyone’s pressed together. And is it getting hotter in here?
I glance over at Nathan, watching him watch the dancing, his head bobbing along to the beat. He says something to Sophie, but the music drowns it out. Everyone’s having so much fun, and he looks like he’s missing it, like he’d rather be out there dancing with someone, actually having a good time.
And I’ve ruined it all.
“I just, um … I’m going to wait by the car. You go have fun,” I tell him.
“Ben. You okay?” Meleika asks. She and Sophie are watching me carefully.
“It’s fine. I just … I shouldn’t have come, I’m sorry. I’ll just be outside, Nathan, whenever you’re ready.” I finally catch Nathan’s attention.
“Ben!” I can see the annoyance in his face, that slight push of his lips. I shouldn’t have come here. He just wanted to have a good time with his friends and I’m going to make him leave early.
“Sorry, sorry.” I push through the dancing and the tight crowds, muttering apologies as I go along. I hope I can find my way back outside.
“Ben, wait.” Nathan grabs my hand again, but I pull it back.
“Listen, go have a good time, okay? I’ll just wait by the car.”
“Ben!” he says again, more desperate than I’ve ever heard him sound. I charge back down the hallway, pushing past the crowds.
“Hey!” someone yells.
“Sorry, sorry,” I say, trying to get to the door. God, it’s fucking burning up in here. The hallways feel like they’re closing in on me. I just need to get outside. Just get outside, and it will all be fine.
“Ben!” Nathan shouts, sounding miles away this time.
My hands finally find a door handle and I push through, almost collapsing into the cool night air. I catch myself against the railing; more people stare at me as I pass by them. I still can’t tell if I’m at the front of the house, or at the back, but I don’t care.
I’m not inside anymore; that’s what’s important.
“You gonna be sick, man?” someone asks me. “If you’ve gotta barf, at least do it in the bushes.”
“I’m not a man,” I whisper under my breath, rounding the corner. This side of the porch is deserted, thankfully. I retch, hanging myself over the railing. There’s nothing in my stomach but that disgusting tequila, but it threatens to come up anyway. It wasn’t even that much, was it? But that’s not it.