“I just don’t feel like getting into anything, okay?”
“I’m not saying you have to pick out china patterns or anything. Just have some fun. Kiss. Grope. Fuck. It doesn’t have to be with the love of your life. You’re nineteen, for God’s sake. You can’t just swear off all men because Holt broke your heart. Men are like vibrators. Just because they’re dicks, it doesn’t mean you can’t use them to have a good time.”
She hands me another shot of tequila and I down it, mainly because I can’t be bothered to argue with her.
I’m starting to feel blurry. Like the room is filled with Jell-O and everyone’s moving slowly.
Ruby’s still talking, but I’ve tuned her out. I don’t want to be here. Also, I know she’s right.
I am afraid of getting hurt again.
Part of me wants to take Ruby’s advice and hook up with someone, purely to feel wanted again. To remind myself that I’m attractive and desired, and not as hollow as I feel. But I know I’ll always feel the twinge of what Ethan did to me. It will always hold me back.
I get up. “I’m going home, Ruby. I’m sorry. You stay. Have a good time.”
She stands and hugs me. “Well, me having a good time is a given. I just wish I could help you get over Mr. Dickface.”
I laugh. “I am getting over him. I swear. I haven’t fantasized about punching him or fucking him for weeks now.”
She pulls back and looks at me in shock. “Seriously?”
“Yep.”
She strokes my cheek. “Awwww, I’m so pwoud of you.”
I smack her hand away and hug her again. She really does give the world’s best hugs.
I call for a cab and head toward the door. Just before I get there, I see a familiar shape silhouetted in the hallway, tall and lanky, chaotic hair. I slow down and lean against the wall for support as I contemplate squeezing past him.
To my relief, when he turns around I see that it isn’t Holt. It’s a guy I’ve never seen before. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Kind of gorgeous. He gives me a smile and moves back against the wall to let me pass.
“Please tell me you’re not leaving,” he says, obviously a little drunk. “It would be a total crime if the most beautiful girl at this party went home before I got a chance to talk to her.”
I shrug. “Sorry. I have some very important sitting around to do. Can’t waste my whole night partying.”
He holds out his hand. “I’m Nick, by the way. Third-year visual arts.”
I put my hand in his, and when we shake, I’m surprised to find it gives me a small thrill.
“Cassie. First-year actor.”
“Very nice to meet you, Cassie.”
“Likewise, Nick.”
He doesn’t let go of my hand, and I don’t remove it. There’s something about the way he’s looking at me that makes me feel less empty. I know we’re both a little drunk, but it’s nice to know someone finds me desirable.
“KISS HIM!” Ruby yells down the hallway.
I pull my hand free and cover my face.
Nick looks at Ruby, clearly bemused. “Uh … is that a friend of yours?”
“Not anymore.”
He laughs. “Does she often scream at you to kiss people you’ve just met?”
“Yeah. More often than I’d like.”
He steps closer. “Well, she seems nice. I’d hate for her to be disappointed.”
Before I register what’s happening, he leans down and presses his lips against my cheek. My skin tingles in a not-unpleasant kind of way, and I instinctively grab his shirt. He pulls back and smiles.
“I hope that was okay.”
“Yeah,” I say, a little dizzy. “That was okay.”
I wait for the guilt to hit me, but when it does, it’s far less potent than I expect.
Maybe I am getting over Holt after all.
Or maybe it’s just the tequila.
Whatever the reason, when my cab pulls up and blares its horn, I say good-night to Nick feeling a lot more confident about my romantic future than before I arrived.
Being sort of attracted to someone means I’m on my way to being completely indifferent to Ethan, right?
I’m in the costume cage down in the basement level of the drama block. It’s cramped and dusty, and innumerable costumes from hundreds of productions have been squeezed onto row after row of floor-to-ceiling racks. Students are allowed to borrow them by permission of the facilities coordinator, but finding exactly what you want is always tough. I’ve been looking for something for my monologue from Twelfth Night for almost an hour, and the stale air is making me feel light-headed.
When all the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, I know I’m not alone. Sure enough, I turn around to find Ethan watching me.
“I didn’t know you were in here,” he says, seeming annoyed.
My heart rate speeds up “Yeah, well, I am.”
Stop it. You’re indifferent, remember? He has no effect on you anymore.
He exhales and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Are you nearly done?”
His tone irritates me. “I have no idea. Why?”
“I need a costume. I guess I’ll wait til you’re gone.”
I sigh, and turn to the rack. “Just find your damn costume, Ethan. I have more important things to do than avoid you right now.”