Apart

I take a glance at the clock for the fifth time tonight, sighing to myself. She’s been in the bathroom for a while now, about ten minutes. Getting a bit worried now, but nothing ever goes well when I go prying. It hasn’t been too long anyway. She’s been drinking the whole time, that coupled with all the loud music and somehow even louder shouting could make anyone’s stomach turn. I take a sip of my punch and head over to the DJ stand. Had a request for him: some RnB music for a more mellow dance, one anyone too woozy could still enjoy themselves to. Gotta look out for the guests, y’know? Though…it was more to keep me calm than anything.

I knew Stacy was a player of sorts. The kind of girl that leaves a trail of broken hearts wherever she goes. I mean, who wouldn’t fall for her? She’s outgoing and beautiful and can carry any room she’s in. Playful and cute and just plain wonderful to be around. She’s the kind of girl I wanted to be, and the kind of girl I just…wanted to be mine. Her last partner only stayed for a month, so when she opened up again, I practically pounced at the chance. I wanted to get to see her more, get to really know her. I wanted to cherish her, as lame as that sounds. It’s been four months since then, and things have been great! For the most part. She’s snarky and funny, but also incredibly sweet. The time we spend together is great, but brief. She’s started getting more gigs recently and even got a modelling call. I didn’t want to hinder that for her, so I’ve been waiting patiently for a chance to do things together. Thankfully, this party she planned was just the chance to have some fun again. Or it should have been. Naturally at a party like this, she’d would want to socialize with more than just me, but she’s barely been around me at all.

Thirty minutes now. The music has since picked up again, and as I down my fifth glass of punch, I notice a crowd was starting to form around the bathroom door. Looking around, Stacy is nowhere else in the room. A chill runs up my spine and going to investigate only makes it worse. Someone came over and heard weird noises from the bathroom, particularly some…moaning. Easy, easy, calm down. It’s been four months now, we’re doing great. It’s probably two of our other friends fooling around. We’ve got a lot of adventurous couples around here.I slide my way through the crowd now, knocking on the door. “Hey, whose house do you people think this is? Get out here!” I hear a particularly loud yelp, a thud, and then a long silence.

After a while, there’s shuffling and zipping. 

And then, the door creaks open.

The light hurts my eyes, but the image is clear. Stacy with messed up hair, an unbuttoned shirt, hickeys on her chest. The works. The other girl runs past past me but I still catch the lipstick marks all over her. A bright yellow. Stacy likes how loud it is. Her eyes fall on me. She’s starting to come over. I don’t even register what she’s saying. My punch is out of my cup and in her face as soon as she’s close enough. She stands there, damp and shocked. She’s even glaring a bit. The nerve. I storm off and head out of the apartment. My stomach is turning, my head is spinning, and my throat is tight. I can barely see through the hot tears welling up in my eyes. I should have known. That it wouldn’t be that easy, that I wasn’t going to be enough.

But I didn’t.

I’m such an idiot.