I'd never been to any type of party through all of high school. As a senior, though, I'm expected to attend at least one, according to my junior friend Elane. All around me, drunk teens dance and talk and kiss. It grosses me out. But such a "ritual" of high school life is important to Elane, so I plan to stand in one of the emptier rooms of some poor kid's house, and wait for her to get drunk and bored.
She doesn't seem any closer to leaving, but rather staying the night with a random boy or girl. It's annoying; if I leave, she'll get in some kind of trouble without me, if I stay, I'll have to watch it happen or intervene. Glancing back to the "dance floor" (the stained living room carpet), Elane's no longer there. My phone buzzes.
"Upstairs end of the hall on the right. Bring a drink?"
Elane's laying on a twin bed, in what looks like a middle school boy's room. Video game posters are hung up on all four walls, and some clothes are scattered on the floor. She has her eyes closed, panting softly as sweat pours from her body. I balance my drink and lie down.
Elane sits up suddenly, and starts taking off her soaked shirt.
"Running hot?" I giggle while she struggles with the sticky fabric. When it's finally off, she flops onto her stomach, spent again.
I drink for the first time, having avoided the alchohol all night. It's not bad, but it instantly warms me up, makes my chest burn. I keep drinking.
Elane opens her eyes, stares at me.
She mumbles, "I thought you weren't so irresponsible."
The filled cup is already halfway gone. "Not as much as you, no. But it's kinda good." I sip some more, the odd sloshing in my head making me feel dizzy, despite lying down.
I close my eyes, a hum wafting through me. Soft hands sweep the hair from my face, trace down to chest, stomach.
"Careful now." Elane's hot breath fans against my lips as she tosses the empty cup off the bed. Then looks at me oddly, odd in a way I start raking through memories for the last time I saw this. "How are you feeling?" I reach up, grasp her hips, stare at her curvy body. The question registers, but an answer does not. How do I feel? My entire chest burns, and I wish my shirt was also off. Wish all my clothes were off. Somehow, Elane knows.
She starts stripping me, starting with my shirt, then pants. But I only feel hotter.
"Elane." I cringe at my voice crack. So does she, only for second, before relaxing into something else. Maybe I look like that too.
"Yes, Diana?" Her voice doesn't crack, no. Elane is breathless, air enough for a tense whisper. Or it's not the air impacting her. I had no reason for the request of attention, but her gaze on me feels good.
We stare.
"You're pretty." No reason to say that either, except that no one says it to this girl enough. That's why I need to do it. I want to be the one who does it.
A little laugh. "You're such a lightweight."
"No, no." That isn't why I said that, and I can't stand that she doesn't know this, can't stand it when she's swaying on my lap.
Her face now is something I know by heart. Expectant. So many look to me like that, look for what I can give. I do too. Yet I never find very much.
I sigh, avoid her eyes. Because what is there to this? Nothing. Elane's had a crush on the same rich pompous ass girl since we were children. All this time, still, I'm no closer.
"No?" Her hand tilts my chin, so her gaze might see me. I don't want her to, because she never really has, never will. I pull away, stare at the wall like a coward.
Of course, she doesn't give up. "Diana." Leniant and patient, but strong, caring while never losing sight of herself, of what she wants. Knows when to give and when to take. It's more than I can bear.
I nudge her off my lap, stand, start putting on the clothes she took off. Every emotional inquiry rolls right past me. I'm done chasing my tail. It's cruel, 'cause none of this should fall on her. I don't care enough to stop.
She grabs my wrist when I open the door, and I shake her off, moving with purpose. Then I'm whipped around, back to the door as it clicks shut.
"Diana!" My response is silent. Only visible, it blurs my vision, slides down my cheeks. She's surprised now, shocked frozen, eyes never leaving mine. Eyes with their own tears.
It's not long 'til she clears the space between us, topples the walls I never stop building, as if they could protect me from the world. Protect me from a girl I can't stop loving. Her hands sweep up my torso, neck, rest there.
A pained whisper brushes my lips.
"What's wrong?"
Haven't I shown you?
And I guess so, because instead of thoughtful questions, I'm met with her soft lips.