“Thanks.” A beautiful warmth was flowing through me, and I grinned at him.
“That’s all, though, okay? And sip it.”
I nodded seriously. “I’ll sip it. I’m good at following directions.”
He laughed and then put his hand on my leg. My brain was starting to get a little fuzzy, and I told myself it was partly because of the alcohol, and partly because of the loud music. I always had a hard time concentrating when there was loud music on.
When I studied, I had to have complete silence.
It took me a second longer than it would have to realize that Adam’s hand was on my knee, and by the time it registered, it was too late to tell him to take it off. So I just let it stay there.
And why shouldn’t I have? I didn’t have a boyfriend, I wasn’t owned by Justin.
Just because I couldn’t stop thinking about him didn’t mean that I couldn’t have fun if I wanted to. I was a freshman in college; this was what I was supposed to be doing.
I closed my eyes and let the music pound through my body. I was more relaxed than I’d been in a while.
“How are you doing?” Adam breathed in my ear.
“I’m fine. I’m good.”
His hand moved a little farther up on my leg, his body a little closer to mine.
We just sat there for a while, listening to the music.
I kind of lost track of time. It seemed a little fluid, like when you go the dentist and they give you laughing gas and you can’t tell if it’s been half an hour or five minutes.
By the time the band was ready for a set break, I had to use the bathroom.
“Be right back,” I said to Adam.
The line for the bathroom was long, and I took my place at the back. Now that the music was done playing, and I was walking, my head was starting to clear just a little bit.
The girl in front of me was completely drunk and screaming about how she’d lost her phone. She was crying, and her friend was trying to comfort her. They were so loud that at first I didn’t realize that someone was talking to me.
“You’re Justin’s date, right?” someone asked.
I turned around. It was one of the guys from the booth in the corner, one of Justin’s friends. He gave me a friendly smile.
“We weren’t on a date,” I said automatically.
He shrugged. “Looked like a date to me.”
“We were just hanging out.”
He grinned and then looked over his shoulder to where Adam was sitting. “Like how you’re hanging out with him now?”
The way he said it made it sound like something dirty, like I was doing something wrong. It made me feel weird, like he thought I was the kind of girl who was out with a different guy every night.
“Maybe you and Justin are a better match than I thought,” he chuckled and walked into the bathroom.
My face flamed, and suddenly, my buzz was gone. What did he mean? That Justin only went out with girls who were easy? My stomach turned over, and I felt sick.
I needed to get out of there.
I used the bathroom and then returned to my table.
“Hey,” Adam said, patting the seat next to him. “Welcome back.”
“I have to go,” I said. I picked up my purse from where I’d left it on the bench.
“What are you talking about?”
“I just… I have to leave.”
He stood up, alarmed. “Are you okay? I’ll go with you.”
“No.” I pushed my hair out of my face. “I mean, yes, I’m fine. And no, you don’t have to go with me.”
I pushed through the crowd and out onto the street. I could feel Adam following me, but he got stopped at the door by the bouncers, who reminded him he still needed to pay his bar tab.
I started to run.
I ran all the way to the T stop, and when the train let me off at Cambridge, I ran all the way across campus to my dorm.
***
By the time I got there, I was completely sober. Everything had come back into focus, and the blurry, sleepy feeling I’d had at the bar was gone. Apparently I hadn’t been as buzzed as I thought.
Rachel was in our room, sitting on her desk, eating a slice of pizza, a textbook open in front of her. My heart sunk. The last thing I wanted was to have to talk to someone. I just wanted to be alone.
“Hey,” she said happily. “Where were you?”
“Out.” I crossed the room to my dresser and pulled out a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt.
Then I headed to the bathroom, where I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and changed.
When I got back to my room, I climbed into bed and pulled the covers over my head.
“You okay?” Rachel asked.
“I’m fine.” I really wished people would stop asking me that.
“Okay.” There was a pause. “You want some pizza?”
“No.” But then I thought about it. Surprisingly, after two days of dining hall food, a decent slice of pizza sounded kind of good. If you’d asked me ten minutes ago, I would have said that the thought of food made me sick, but now, it seemed like maybe I did want some after all. I pushed the covers back from my face. “What kind is it?”
“Pepperoni.”
I sat up in bed. “Maybe one slice.”