Don't close your eyes

The first memory

* * *

"No, careful! Don't break that!"

"Let's go get some more drinks..."

"Want my number?"

They're everywhere around you. Chattering, drinking, dancing. The dimly lit living room is packed with them, glitter and sweat coruscating their skins because of the reflection from the cheap disco ball above. There's a couch near you with some people smoking something on it. A weird smell floats in the air, you think as you scrunch your nose. The odor kinda reminds you of what sweat smells like.

So this is what university parties are like?

You sit alone on a footstool your knees are softly illuminated by a purple lava lamp on your right. You're holding a colorful drink in your left hand, reminding you of warm summer nights. With your unoccupied hand you pick the skin around the other's nails, where they're already sensitive from the existing little wounds decorating them.

You get up to walk around the living room once more. Navigating through the sea of drunken students you head to the frat house kitchen to get a refill of punch. As the distance between you and the kitchen island shortens, your shoulders slump more and more with each step.

Sigh. As you go to fill your cup you see the cloudy shape of your reflection staring back at you. You came here to get a distraction, not another reality check. You pout and slowly pour the liquid, lazily bringing the cup halfway full. Everybody's too busy grinding on each other in the living room so, who cares if you take your time... It's not like anything matters right now.

As you look back into the living room, you see some people gathered around the beer pong table. The spectators are yelling, encouraging and cheering on the players. The team nearest of you consists of two black haired, casually dressed guys whose faces you can't see. On the opposite team there's a tall guy sporting a bomber jacket with red and yellow sequins on it, and next to him a girl wearing a black mini dress. She has this amazing aura, it's like she knows she's pretty and knows how to use it to her advantage. That's how it seems at least, since her opponents are too busy checking her out to focus on the game.

You let your gaze drift to some potato chip crumbs on the floor and take a sip from your cup. Soon there's a chorus of cheers letting you know that the match has been finished. A few minutes pass by before a deep voice interrupts your day dreaming.

"Cool ring." You look up from the floor and see the familiar sequins shining in the kitchen light. He nods to your hand with a deep blue sapphire ring decorating it.

You switch from leaning on your right foot to the left: "Oh... Thanks." You were never that good at small talk, and after a while of not talking to strangers you're even more nervous. If he paid close attention, he could probably see a droplet of sweat on your neck.

He raises his eyebrows, "First year?"

"Yeah... Is it obvious?" you unconsciously wipe the imaginary droplets off.

"Well... Yeah. Kinda," he nods towards the people dancing in the living room, "You look like a lost little lamb," he chuckles.

A shy smile creeps up on your face because of the nickname: "Yeah, I, uh... I don't usually go to parties much either," you confess.

The stranger scratches his chin and takes a second to think something over. "So how did you hear about this one?" He picks up a chair from the ground and sits on it. His gentle eyes say that he's not a butthole, but the smirk and crossed arms say he might be.