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Do not cry.
I curl my hands into fists, a physical threat to the salt water gathered
in my eyes.
You’re okay.
I pee, wash my hands, and head back out into the abyss of the dance floor.
Rather than navigate directly through the sea of humans, I edge my way back along the
perimeter of the room.
“Hey, girl!” I hear a familiar voice and stop, spinning around to find Chad walking over with a
fresh vodka cranberry.
“Hey!” I say, a little relieved to catch a glimpse of him after losing him and Babe pretty early on
in the night. He walks up to me until he’s a little too close. I find myself up against the wall as I step
back, trying to maintain a bubble of personal space. “Where’s Babe?” I ask over the music.
“At the bar, I think,” he says offhandedly. “How are you liking this place? It’s dope, right?” He
smiles, eyes drooping drunkenly.
“Yeah, it’s good. I like the music. I was just heading back to find Pilot.” I crane my neck,
looking over Chad’s shoulder.
“You have really pretty hair,” he says, staring at me. I narrow my eyes.
“Okay, thanks.” I turn my head, still searching for Pilot. When I turn back …
“What the—” I’m cut off as Chad’s squishy lips hit my face, landing half on my own lips, half
lopsided on my check. I bend my legs, sliding down the wall toward the floor before falling
sideways slightly and jumping back up, a foot to the right of where I had just been. Chad’s gawking
at me with his jaw hanging open.
“What are you doing?” I demand.
“It’s my birthday!”
“Babe likes you,” I scold. I bolt away from him, weaving in and out through the crowd now.
That didn’t happen. My first kiss isn’t from some drunken doofus who’s supposed to be here with
my friend. It isn’t. It doesn’t count. It didn’t happen!
Relief floods through me when I spot the back of Pilot’s plaid shirt among the damp crowd of
dancers. I bump into him lightly as I step up on his right.
“Hey,” I greet him gratefully.
“Hey! Welcome back.” He grins. To my surprise, he pulls me in next to him again. His arm
resettles around my waist. And, as expected, I turn back to stone. My whole body hums. He looks so
calm and content, but my mind won’t stop whirring. Maybe I didn’t mess everything up when I
turned the other way? Where is Babe? Chad is an asshat. I do not like that guy. I didn’t like him
before, but I definitely do not like him now.
The music stops at some point. Pilot leads me toward to back of the room with his hand still at
my back. My eyes find Chad and Babe. They’re near the bar, clutching half-empty drinks, and Babe
is yelling. I can tell from here.
“Are they fighting?” I ask Pilot nervously.
“Looks like it.” We power walk over. Before I can make out anything they’re saying, Pilot
speaks over them, “Hey, you guys ready to head out? I think the band’s done.”
Babe jerks her attention to us, eyes red and puffy. Oh no.
“Oh yeah, we should get going so we can catch the Metro,” Babe agrees, her voice cracking on
the words
get
and
Metro.
She places her drink on the bar, grabs Chad’s drink out of his hand, and
slams it down next to hers. The remnants of his vodka cranberry fly around the clear plastic cup as
she pivots and storms past us toward the stairs.
“Happy birthday, man,” Pilot says, giving Chad a manly clap on the back with the hand that’s
not on me. I watch Chad’s eyes drift to Pilot’s hand.
“Yeah, happy birthday,” I sputter nervously like nothing happened.
Chad throws a slick grin at me before looking at Pilot. “Thanks, man.”
“Let’s go,” Babe yells up ahead. I should try to talk to Babe.
“Wait, Babe!” I yell, “I think we should pee before we go!”
She turns to glare at me, but after a moment she nods, and we head toward the restroom. There’s
a line snaking out the door now. She adds herself to it, and I step up behind her.
“Babe, are you okay?” My voice comes out small and hesitant.
She turns to face me, glaring again for a good five seconds before exploding, her voice pained
and low. “I don’t know, Shane! I finally try to make a move on the guy I like, he jumps away
yelling, and I quote ‘Dammit, Babe, I don’t like you like that,’ and then he makes a beeline right for
you.” Her eyes shine.
“Babe, I’m so sorry. He’s an assbucket!”
“What, is Pilot not enough? You need every guy’s attention on you?”
“What?” Tears strangle my voice as I squeeze out the next two sentences. “What are you talking
about? He came over to me, and I ran away from him!”
“I don’t want to talk to you right now.” She turns away pointedly as we make it into the actual
bathroom. Babe strides into the next open stall. I turn and leave.
I wait outside next to Pilot, who’s chatting with Chad about bears. When Babe emerges, we
follow her to the stairs and join the slow trickle of bodies headed to pick up their jackets. We shuffle
along the coat check line. Babe’s a few people ahead of Pilot and me. Chad stands behind us,
looking off into space.
Pilot ducks his mouth close to my ear as we take a step closer to the coat check window. “What
do you think their best song was?” His voice tickles my face.
“Um, I think my favorite was that cover from that band I like.” My stomach rotates like a
washing machine.
He smiles. “That weird hipster band? Same.” He holds my eyes.
“Next!” the woman behind the counter calls us forward. We break eye contact and step up
hastily, handing over our tickets and paying the Euro for our jackets.
“Come on, Chad,” Babe demands with attitude as we all file back out onto the street. She spins
on her foot and heads down the road toward the Metro. Chad starts after her.
Pilot and I hang back, walking slowly. “That looks dramatic,” he starts.
I take a deep breath, trying to quell my anxious stomach. “She went to kiss him, he said some
nasty things, and then he tried to make a move on me in front of her when I was on my way back
from the bathroom, and I ran away from him.”
“What?” His eyebrows pinch together.
“Yeah.” I exhale a gust of air. “It was weird. I don’t really want to dwell on it.”
Pilot studies me for a moment, his eyebrows low, before nodding and pressing his lips together.
He looks down, watching the ground go by under our feet. I drop my gaze.
“So where should we go next?” he asks.
My head snaps back up. I stutter, “Um—like tonight or in life?”
He huffs a breathy laugh. “Where should we go for our next epic weekend trip? What else do we
need to climb?”
“I’m down to go anywhere really, maybe Scotland?”
“Scotland! Let’s hit that up.
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