cold beer, sweaty palms

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 has been 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.]]

You live with Georgia and Violet, a pair of MFA students who have been together for the past two years. Georgia and Violet are the perfect roommates, mostly because they aren't home most of the time. When they //are// home, they're usually either locked up in their bedroom typing away at their laptops, or draped over the couches in the communal living space, smoking weed. They're respectful of your privacy and always offer you a hit of whatever they're smoking.

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. You didn't even come.

…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 kind of 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. It stresses you out, which sucks, because you do love Emma.

“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. You also know that she wants to go to [[Pete's]] party. And you don't want to do that, seeing as Pete hasn't responded to your texts in a week. 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 cute employee at the campus cafe (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. So, this is how that person will see you... You think it's kind of funny — you, sitting here, looking at the Internet version of yourself from a third-person perspective. Makes you feel kind of splintered, or something. Fuck it, though. 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. But you will text him, anyway, because, fuck it. 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, [[send Pete the text]] 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. I mean, at this point, it would be weirder if you didn't go. You don't want to anyone to think you care //that// much, even if it's just Emma. [[“Gah, you’re killing me… But, yeah, okay. Call me when you’re here.”->a bit faster.]]

After chugging back the rest of your glass of wine, you get up (a little light-headed) for a refill. You drink back several large gulps before returning to your bedroom. At this rate, you think you will be pleasantly intoxicated by the time Emma and Toby get to your apartment. It’s at that point that you remember the few crumbs of weed you have in a little baggie in your desk drawer. You figure smoking a bowl could be good for you. It'll make you chill out, [[or something]] Honestly, [[probably not the best idea.]] You usually end up getting pretty weird and withdrawn after you smoke. Your roommates would probably get home immediately after. Not that they would care. But then you'd have to, like, talk to them.

''hello'' Fuck, how do you respond to that? [[hey!]] or, um, less enthusiastic... [[hi]] or, you don't want to come off //too// apathetic... [[hellllo there]]

Okay, cool. Yeah. Good. You sounded casual and detached, just slightly curious. Very good. This is good. And if he doesn't respond, that would suck. [[text->a bit faster.]]

You decide //fuck it, I'm just going to do it.// You open up a message addressed to Pete and, fingers raised above the touch screen, consider your mode of confrontation for a moment. Your heart is so loud you feel it in your ears. YOU SAY... [[hey pete i hear ur having ppl over tonight and i'm gonna come hope u dont mind lol not sure why i'm even texting u this but i figured i just would->a bit faster.]] OR, just... [[hey pete whatcha doin tonight]]

You grab your supplies, sit back against your bedroom wall and pack a bowl. You play this video on your laptop: <iframe width="420" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/sjTiFrMaUtY" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe> You take a hit from the bowl. Inhale the almost-sour smoke and feel its warmth hit your throat and spread out, down, up. You listen to this song when you fall asleep on most nights. It relaxes you, reminds you of [[a friend you once had]], a friend who showed you the song in the first place. [[You don't see that friend anymore.]] You take another drag, breathe it in and this time you hold the smoke in for a little while longer. You close your eyes and imagine the smoke drifting down into your lungs, cloaking you entirely in a soft haze. You're sitting there, smoking and listening to the music for a while. You think, //Well, I'm stoned...// when you hear the front door to the apartment open up. You think, //fuck,// because your Georgia and Violet are definitely home. You think, //what time is it, anyway?// and you look at your clock and see that it is almost 10 o'clock. Emma and Toby are probably on their way. You realize you haven't been checking your phone and they may have been trying to get in contact with you, they may be waiting for you downstairs, they may have already left because you left them waiting for so long. You look at your phone, though, and see that you haven't missed a single text message. You then remember that Pete never texted you back. Wow. Fuck Pete. You hate Pete. Your heart is pounding pretty fast. This is because you are stoned and enraged and nervous because your roommates just got home. You don't know if you should go out there and, like, hang out with them or something. They sound kind of loud out there, like maybe they went out for a drink after classes. They probably would be pleased to spend time with you, or they may think that you're stoned and acting weird. You decide to open up the door, stick your head out and greet them briefly. Maybe, you think, you will preface your greeting with a light chuckle, admitting, //Hey guys, what's up, I'm so stoned.// Or maybe you can pretend you aren't stoned. You go over to your dressing table, lift a bottle of contact lens solution and lean your head back, releasing a couple of drops into each eye. You pinch your cheeks a little. You smile at yourself in the mirror. You flip your hair from one side of your head to the other. You flip it back. You lean in closer to the mirror and notice several dark hairs on your upper lip. You grab tweezers and pluck them. You consider plucking a few loose strands around your eyebrows, too. But then, you hear your phone vibrating on the floor. A text from Emma: ''We're here, meet us outside.'' Relief. You put on shoes. Grab a jacket. A scarf. A bag. You walk out into the living space, and Georgia and Violet are sitting at the kitchen counter with a bottle of wine between the two of them. Georgia is at working rolling a joint. "Oh hey, I didn't even realize you were home," you say. You think this sounds like a reasonable lie. You are satisfied with your lie. "Hey," Violet says. "Where are you headed?" You explain that you're going to a party. You almost tell them it's at Pete's house — they've met Pete on a few mornings as he slipped out of your bedroom to head home — but [[you dont]].

Double-click this passage to edit it.

You wait for a moment and then they’re typing again… (insert photo) ''how was that falafel sandwich?'' Nice. This is a reference to the falafel sandwich they made you earlier that day. It was a pretty good sandwich. ''mmm, it was a pretty good sandwich.'' And then, because you think the period may have been a bit heavy-handed, you add: ‘’(insert tongue smiley emoji)’’ (insert typing photo again) ''you should come to this party tonight'' Oh? ''who's having a party?'' [[you know pete right?]]

Jesus. ''yeah, we're friends. ur going to his party?'' ''yeah! you should go, too.'' ...Well... [[yeah, i was actually planning on going!]] [[man, i wish, but i don't think i'm gonna make it tonight.]]

''word! i'll see you there.'' [[You respond: yeah, see you there.]] [[You don't respond. By not responding, you appear to care less. You think apathy makes you powerful.]]

You put down your phone, feeling energized. You think maybe you will have sex with this person. Maybe Pete doesn't actually mater to you at all. Or maybe he will think that when he sees you flirting with this mutual friend tonight. Now that you've decided you want to go to this party, you text Emma back, asking her what her plans are. Meanwhile, you notice that your glass of wine is empty, so you go get yourself more to drink. [[You definitely want to get drunk tonight.]]

[[and scrolling....]]

and [[scrolling...]]

and [[scrolling.....]]

...[[and scrolling...]]

You wonder if she wonders about you, if you're breathing heavy, if you're writing again. You'd like to think she has forgiven you for not being a better friend. You wish you could've been a [[better friend->or something]].

You sometimes wonder what she's doing, where she lives, if she has a job. You wonder how her parents are, what songs she's been listening to. [[You wonder->or something]] how long her hair is.

[[hey pete i hear ur having ppl over tonight and i'm gonna come hope u dont mind lol not sure why i'm even texting u this but i figured i just would->a bit faster.]]

Instead, you wrap the scarf around your neck one more time, tell Georgia and Violet you'll "see them later" and head downstairs to Toby's car. You can see Emma, small and well-bundled, in the passenger's seat before you open the back door. You knock on the window. Toby turns around, nods at you and there is a click as the doors unlock. [[You hop in.]]

Turns out Toby and Emma are stoned too, and plan on smoking more on the ride to Pete's house. Emma lights a joint almost immediately after greeting you, taking a couple of hits before passing it back to you. You're pretty stoned already. You know that you tend to smoke more weed than you really need to. You also know that, historically, getting really stoned before entering social interactions makes you anxious and paranoid. But you sometimes feel awkward when you don't take the joint, like maybe you're offending somebody. [[You pass]] [[Fuck it, you take the hit anyway.]]

You put down your phone, feeling energized and empowered. Now that you've decided you want to go to this party, you text Emma back, asking her what her plans are. Meanwhile, you notice that your glass of wine is empty, so you go get yourself more to drink. [[You definitely want to get drunk tonight.]]

And this is how the entire fifteen minute carride goes. By the time you get to [[Pete's house,]] you're stoned as fuck. There are a decent number of cars lining the street. You don't really want to go in. You feel nervous as you follow Emma and Toby, who are continuing a story from the carride that you honestly haven't been following all that well. To be honest, all you can think about is the fact that Pete just //never// responded to your text message. [[He definitely doesn't want you to be here.]] He definitely was trying to get that point across when he didn't respond to your text message.

Emma lets you know that she and [[Toby]] can pick you up to go to Pete's party in the next twenty minutes. //Bottoms up.// ($set:drink to "You pour yourself another.") [[$drink]]

You catch up to Emma and mumble in her ear something about feeling like you probably shouldn't have come seeing as Pete hasn't responded to your texts in almost a week. "This isn't going to be a big deal or anything," Emma says, in what she probably thinks is a reassuring tone, but really just confirms that, to you, [[this is a bigger deal than she can really understand.]]

You just about finish the bottle and are feeling //good// by the time Emma and Toby arrive downstairs. That feeling of impending doom that had been looming over you a little while ago seems to be simmering off as your buzz settles in. [[Maybe tonight won't be a disaster.]]

You get into the car and greet Emma and Toby enthusiastically. "I'm, like, drunk," You say. Emma laughs, "Good," and proceeds to light a joint. She takes a couple of hits before passing it back to you. You know that, historically, getting stoned before entering social interactions makes you kind of anxious and paranoid. But you sometimes feel awkward when you don't take the joint, like maybe you're offending the person who offered it to you. Especially Emma, who tends to get kind of weird about that sort of thing. [[You pass]] [[You take the hit anyway.]]

And this is how the entire fifteen minute carride goes. By the time you get to Pete's house, you're kind of... fucked up. You see a decent number of cars lining the street. You feel nervous as you follow Emma and Toby, who are continuing a story from the carride that you honestly haven't been following all that well, into the backyard of [[Pete's house]]. You wonder if your friend from the cafe is there yet. You hope they are. You hope they're drunk, too. You don't want them to think you're trashy or something.

The last time you were at Pete's house (a little over a week ago) you'd [[had sex]] after he took you to a local Indian restaurant. The next morning he drove you home and [[kissed you on the forehead]] before you got out of the car. You texted him [[two days later,]] and asked him if he wanted to go to the library with you. He said he couldn't make it. You didn't text him since then, and he hasn't texted you either. You aren't really sure what, exactly, the deal is, and honestly, you're not sure you really want to find out. [[You'd much rather just go home...]]

You thought the sex was pretty good, though you didn't come. You weren't sure if Pete did, either. You were too embarrassed to ask. You think that your inability to communicate things like this may be one of the reasons Pete has backed off from you. It may also be because you didn't make him come (although, you think, it's not like he did anything better!) It may also be that Pete had interpreted your Whatever-You-Call-It as something [[more casual than you had interpreted it->Pete's house]].

You felt bad about this as soon as it happened. You remembered a conversation you'd had with a friend who said that forehead kisses seemed demeaning, created some weird sort of power dynamic. When Pete kissed you on the forehead, you felt like [[a child->Pete's house]].

You thought this was a sufficient amount of time to wait before asking to hang out again. You didn't want Pete to get tired of you, or think that you were getting //too into him// [[or something->Pete's house]].

The last time you were at Pete's house (a little over a week ago) you'd [[you'd had sex]] after he took you to a local Indian restaurant. The next morning [[he drove you home and kissed you on the forehead]] before you got out of the car. You texted him [[two days later]], and asked him if he wanted to go to the library with you. He said he couldn't make it. You didn't text him since then, and he hasn't texted you either. [[You aren't really sure->Fuck it, you take the hit anyway.]] what, exactly, the deal is.

You get to Pete's fenced-in backyard and see a group of people sitting around a fire, a couple of others meandering by the doorway to his house. You recognize one of his housemates by the door, smoking a cigarette and talking to a girl that you've seen at the house once before. [[You consider approaching him.]] He's pretty cool, a good conversationalist. He also probably knows where you can get your hands on some beer. You also realize that you've put yourself in an uncomfortable situation for no justifiable reason at all. You know that you would be much happier at home watching a movie in your bed, or even smoking a joint with Georgia and Violet. [[You could just order an Uber and slip out of here unnoticed.]]

You pull out your phone and decide you could [[order an Uber and get out of here]] basically unscathed. At the same time, however, you see your friend from the cafe getting up from the fire in Pete's backyard. [[You could also go over there and say hi...]]

"Hey guys, I know this seems really lame but I'm feeling kind of sick... I ate something weird earlier tonight, and I'm actually feeling pretty fucked up," you admit to Emma and Toby. "I'm going to call an Uber and head home. Lay low for the night. I didn't really want to come out anyway." Emma and Toby look at you. Emma says something like "Awwww," but doesn't stop you. Despite the fact that Emma can kind of suck sometimes, she's known you long enough to know "how you get." So, [[you order the Uber and walk down the road some ways to wait for it to pick you up.]]

So you do. "Hey Darrell," you say when you get over there. You nod and smile at the girl standing next to him, because you don't remember her name. She smiles back warmly, holding eye contact in a way that makes you kind of nervous, so you break it off. Look at Darrell's shoes, then at the girl's, then at your own. "Hey!" He says. "How are ya? Pete's inside, I think." You nod coolly. "Nice," you say. "How are you?" "I'm pretty good... Do you know Ana?" I nod, look at this girl, Ana, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I've seen you here once or twice..." She cocks her head to the side, shrugs a little, "Probably." This makes you feel kind of weird, that you clearly remember her better than she remembers you. "I'm going to go inside and grab a beer?" You say. Darrell nods, [["Yeah, beer's inside."]]

The Uber arrives within five minutes and you feel immensensely relieved as soon as you climb into the back of a silver Acura. The driver is a woman. [[This makes you feel safe.]]

The Uber arrives within five minutes and you feel immensensely relieved as soon as you climb into the back of the back of a man named Shane's silver Acura. As soon as you're almost back to your apartment, you get a text from Pete. [[sweet! are you here yet?]]

You're just about back to your apartment when you receive a Facebook message to your cellphone. It's from you friend, the one who works at the cafe: ''where'd u go? i'm chilling with your friends rn and they said u dipped :/'' [[You ignore the message — You're done with social interactions for the night.]] [[You respond: ''Sorry!! I ended up feeling sick so I'm home now. Hang out another time?'']]

You sort of stumble into the kitchen, open up the fridge and grab a beer from the back. Your scanning the counter for a bottle opener when you see Pete walk in. He is holding himself tall, looking really good. [[You stop looking for the bottle opener, turn to face him head-on. You feel strangely guilty. You say hey to Pete.]] [[You continue looking for the bottle opener and pretend not to notice Pete.]]

He looks surprised to see you, "Oh, hey, what are you doing here?"

You kind of wish you could become invisible to anything you didn't look in the eyes. But, you can't. "Hey," you hear Pete say from directly behind you. You turn around, feigning surprise. [[You respond to Pete in a friendly, "pleasantly surprised" manner.]] [[You turn to Pete and respond coolly, almost apathetically.]]

When you get home, you take off your clothes, wash your face, and get into bed. You turn on a movie, sink into your pillows and fall asleep halfway through the movie. You feel at ease.

As soon as you send the message, you feel like it might've been a bit too forward. Maybe they didn't want to hang out with you in any context other than this party setting. [[You get home and find yourself in your room, anxiously anticipating a message for the rest of the night.]]

Even during the movie you turn on, you find yourself checking your phone. They clearly saw the message — it says so! Still, it makes you kind of angry when you think about how anxious you're getting over some stupid text. You're an independent woman, God damn it! You don't need some //stupid Facebook message// to justify your existence. And yet you can't help but think about all [[the larger implications of what the lack of a response means.]]

[[You are trying too hard.]]

You're not a pleasure to spend time with. They only wanted you for your body. They found someone else at the party to go home with. Most people feel this way. That's why you and Pete didn't work out. That's why nothing ever works out. [[That's why you're probably going to die alone, hoenstly.]]

You are trapped in a cycle of unhealthy thoughts as you lie in bed. You try to count yourself to sleep. You pour yourself a glass of water. You consider taking a shower. You open your laptop and type some of the thoughts down. Everything you always do when you can't sleep. [[You don't fall asleep until 4 in the morning.]]

When [[your alarm goes off]] at 9 o'clock that morning, you feel pretty fucking exhausted, and your head kind of hurts. Honestly, you're feeling pretty sorry for yourself, which in turn makes you feel even more sorry for yourself. Last night was just so weird. And when you look at your Facebook messages, you see a response: ''Sorry, my phone died! Let's definitely hang out sometime :-)'' You feel a weight lifted from your shoulders. To an extent, this message makes you feel better.

You set an alarm every morning. You're convinced that if you don't, you may just never [[wake up->You don't fall asleep until 4 in the morning.]]

You're kind of aggravated — //you seriously haven't checked your phone in the past four hours??// Seems unlikely. [[You don't respond and sit quietly for the rest of the ride.->You ignore the message — You're done with social interactions for the night.]] [[And yet... You can't help but respond...]]

You sort of stumble into the kitchen, open up the fridge and grab a beer from the back. Your scanning the counter for a bottle opener when you see Pete walk in. He is holding himself tall, looking really good. [[You stop looking for the bottle opener, turn to face him head-on. You feel strangely guilty. You say hey.]] [[You continue looking for the bottle opener and pretend not to notice him.]]

You kind of wish you could become invisible to anything you didn't look in the eyes. But, you can't. "Hey," you hear Pete say from directly behind you. You turn around, feigning surprise. You respond to Pete [[in a friendly, "pleasantly surprised" manner.]] You turn to Pete and respond [[coolly, almost apathetically.]]

''decided not to come when i didn't get a response on ur end. haven't heard from u in a while, didn't want to be intrusive or something.'' Within two minutes, you get another response: ''sorry, i've been shitty lately. busy with school and stuff. would've liked to see u... sure u don't want to come?'' You respond: [[nah, i'm gonna lay low tonight. maybe we can chill later this weekend?]] [[hm... okay, yeah, maybe i will]]

You feel pretty self-satisfied. Not letting some asshole guys dictate your life. [[It feels good->You ignore the message — You're done with social interactions for the night.]]

But you know you won't. [[You sit quietly for the rest of the ride home,->You ignore the message — You're done with social interactions for the night.]] feeling sort of exhilarated by your lie. You know he deserves it. And you're sure Lena is there, and that Lena can satisfy his boyish desires.

He shows you to the bottle opener, helps you open it and engages you for a moment in friendly small talk. You think this interaction is weird, but you pretend otherwise. Pete tells you he'll see you outside, and you say OK. You stay in the kitchen for a little while longer and finish your beer. You take another, and head outside. You see your friend from the cafe. They hug you in greeting. This makes you feel at ease. The alcohol also makes you feel at ease. Pete also is nearby, and he sees your friend hug you. You feel kind of unsettled, but beneath that you feel smug. Fuck Pete.

You say, hello and ask where the bottle opener is. Pete picks one up, close to your elbow. You feel embarrassed as he reaches over, opens your beer, hands it back. You take an elongated moment to drink from the bottle, chugging back maybe half of it. "Thirsty, huh?" He says. You laugh, but you don't smile. You are surprised by your coolness. You realize you want to be mean to him. And he can tell. He asks you what's up, but it sounds more like //what's wrong with you, anyway?// You feel your heart beating heavily. You want to escape, and yet you can't stop looking at Pete. [["Nothing, what's up with you?]]

"Well, nothing..." He says. You feel just about ready to burst. Honestly, you're not sure why you're even here. You shouldn't be here, you weren't really invited here, you're clearly not welcome here. You don't even care if you see your friend from the cafe. That was just a stupid idea in the first place. [["Nice, well, I'm just about to head out, actually."]]

He shows you to the bottle opener, helps you open it and engages you for a moment in friendly small talk. You think this interaction is weird, but you pretend otherwise. Pete tells you he'll see you outside, and you say OK. You stay in the kitchen for a little while longer and finish your beer. You take another, and head outside. You see your friend from the campus cafe. They hug you in greeting. This makes you feel at ease. The alcohol also makes you feel at ease. Pete also is nearby, and he sees your friend hug you. You feel kind of unsettled, but beneath that you feel smug. Fuck Pete.

"Well, nothing..." He says. You're mad because he hasn't acknowledged the texts he's been ignoring. You feel just about ready to burst. Honestly, you're not sure why you're even here. You shouldn't be here, you weren't really invited here, you're clearly not welcome here. [["Nice, well, I'm just about to head out, actually."]] [["That's surprising, seeing as you appeared to be too busy to respond to my text message..."]]

"Wow, really? Did you not just get here?" [[No, I've been hanging out outside for a while.]] [[Yeah, but you clearly don't want me to be here, right?]]

"Huh, that's weird, I didn't see you out there," he says. You shrug him off. You're sweating. You want to be home. You're nervously sipping at the beer. It's almost empty. You're drunk. You need to leave. [["Okay, I'm leaving. Bye."]]

You go outside and call an Uber up. You don't even tell Emma and Toby that you've left. The Uber arrives. It is driven by a woman. This makes you feel safe, despite the fact that you're crying. You didn't realize you started crying. You're honestly not sure why you're crying. You need to go to bed, wow, you really need to go to bed.