It’s Friday evening and, quite frankly, you’re exhausted. You were up until almost 4 a.m. last night working on a number of assignments, and today was no less stressful. You’ve been running from class, to work, to an assortment of meetings since you woke up this morning – two minutes after you were supposed to be at work. Sometimes you wonder what exactly you’re trying to accomplish by spreading yourself so thin.
Needless to say, you need a [[drink]].
You’re in alone in your apartment, which you share with a [[couple]] in their late-20’s, so you feel comfortable walking into the kitchen without any pants on. You open the liquor cabinet and survey your [[options.]]
Double-click this passage to edit it.
Psyche. All you have in the bottle of red wine you opened in a moment of [[desperation]] the other night. You pour yourself a healthy helping of it before returning to your bedroom. You recline on your bed and open up Tumblr on the laptop. Your idly [[scrolling...]]
It was a Tuesday night, you got off work an hour and half later than usual, you were stressed and, quite frankly, pretty horny. So, you cracked open the bottle of red wine that you’d meant to give to your friend for their upcoming birthday, poured yourself a generous glassful, and took it to [[your room->options.]] where you spent the next thirty minutes jacking yourself off.
…when you feel your phone vibrating against your hip. Your cellphone. You reach beneath your thigh to retrieve the object, which has the name [[EMMA]] on the screen.
You [[answer]] the phone – you’ve been wondering what Emma was up to.
You [[ignore the phone]] – you’re not really in the mood to speak to Emma. At least, not until you get through this first glass of wine.
Emma has been one of your closest friends since junior high school, and she just so happens to go to school with you, as well. Maybe it’s because you’ve know each other for so long, or maybe it’s just because she’s turned into a bitch, but Emma’s been making you feel kind of… on edge, lately. She is so moody nowadays, and rarely is interested in other people’s lives. It seems to you that all of your friends are constantly seeking Emma’s approval, and she’s just not ready to [[give->scrolling...]] it.
“Hey Em,” you say into the phone.
“Hey dude, what are you doing?”
“Fucking around on the Internet, mostly. Just poured myself a glass of wine. I think I want to get drunk tonight.”
“Same. [[Pete’s]] having people over his house tonight. I don’t want to drive, but we should go. I think [[Toby’s]] cool to drive us.”
You haven’t talked to Pete since last weekend, and based on [[his most recent Twitter activity]], you’ve concluded that he is sleeping with that girl, [[Lena]], who he’s taking some philosophy class with. You haven’t told anyone about your suspicions, though. Especially not Emma, who will think that you’re totally delusional.
So, what do you say?
[[“Sweet, yeah. I’ll come. I haven’t talked to Pete in a while, though. Do you think he’s cool with me coming?”]]
[[“Ah, I’m not sure, Em… I haven’t talked to Pete in a few days, and, I don’t know, I just feel like maybe he’s trying to stay away from me or something.”]]
You aren’t really down to talk to Emma right now. You’d rather get through this glass of wine, first, and then figure out what’s going on for the night, and you know that’s why Emma’s calling you, anyway. So, you [[continue scrolling…]]
You’ve been going at this for a good five minutes before boredom starts creeping in. You sign on to Facebook. A good-looking worker at the café on campus (and an acquaintance through mutual friends) has sent you a friend request, to which you respond. You open up your own Facebook profile, browse it. This is how that person will see you, which you think is funny. Since when have our lives become so splintered?
You open up their Facebook profile next and are scrolling through their pictures when, oh, looks like they just sent you a [[Facebook message.]]
Pete is this guy you started seeing a little over a month ago, whom you met at a party through some mutual friends. Pete and you have gone on a couple dates since then, and started sleeping together after the initial date. Pete’s really handsome – honestly, you’re not sure why he wanted to sleep with you in the first place – and knows a lot about, like, culture. He likes to teach you things, like all the different ways one can make coffee, and about ‘80s [[cult->answer]] classics.
Toby is Emma’s boyfriend. They’ve been dating for a year. Toby has long, dirty hair and smokes a lot of cigarettes. He works a lot with his hands. You can tell just by looking at him. He fixes cars and is an artist. He works with steel and [[shit->answer]].
Pete and this girl, Lena, have been favoriting each other’s Tweets since last weekend. Lena tweeted song lyrics from a band that Pete likes. The lyrics could be interpreted as having a [[sexual->answer]] connotation.
Lena is very strange and beautiful, a little mystical fairy-like girl. She studies neurobiology and poetry and comes from a wealthy family. [[You’re->answer]] terribly envious of Lena.
“Yeah, totally,” Emma says. “I think a bunch of people are going to be there anyway. Toby and I can come get you in an hour.”
You worry that Lena will be there, and that’s why Pete didn’t invite you, directly. You wonder who invited Emma, but you don’t ask because you know Emma would think you were being paranoid and passive aggressive. You know that you could just text Pete and ask him… but… ask him what? Why he didn’t invite you to his house? You would never let yourself seem so vulnerable.
You convince yourself that Emma’s words are reassuring. Pete probably just assumes that you will come along with Emma.
You hang up with Emma and begin drinking your wine [[a bit faster.]]
On the other line, Emma is clearly annoyed.
“Oh, come on,” she sighs. “You know that’s totally in your head, right?”
You aren’t too sure.
“Listen,” Emma says. “We’ll go for a little while. And if you feel weird, we can leave. We’ll steal his beer and have our own little party at my place. Yeah?”
You feel a pit in your stomach – this is probably not the right decision. But you don’t feel like Emma gave you much room to do otherwise. You might as well just go and show Pete how carefree and casual you are. And if it’s weird, you’ll leave. Easy.
[[“Em, you’re killing me… But, yeah, okay. Call me when you’re here.”]]
Double-click this passage to edit it.
Double-click this passage to edit it.
Double-click this passage to edit it.