Initially, I wanted to tell a greater story- sharing every minute detail, decoding them. And even though it’s been brief, the shindig chronicles have served its purpose in my life- i’m moving forward.

Maybe one day the air will be the perfect temperature or the wind will hit my nose just right, and I’ll find myself there again- but for now, I’ll share the fleeting memories that still haunt me, letting go.

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As my 23rd birthday approaches and as the summer begins to fade, I’m sure your 21st birthday has crept its way around and we’re nearly exiting that very brief sliver of time where we are just a year apart in age. Much better than the shameful gap between 19 and 21. I cannot believe the way in which time has flown by, and now you’re the age I was when this all began. I wonder if you ever look back at these memories- if you even possess them- with the experience and wisdom the past year and a half has brought you and dissect them, much like I have.

Maybe you’re more level headed than I was at the same age and you think I’m crazy.
Maybe I handed you the guidebook on what not to do when you’re 21.
Maybe you don’t think about it at all.

When thoughts of you begin to stir, I get sucked into a vortex of feelings. A flicker of a moment of closeness races past me, and I’m short of breath. Then suddenly, we’re dancing ever so slowly under the darkness of your room.

I’ve spent more time thinking about that night more often than I’d like to admit.

Hours flew by while I stared at the walls, projecting scenes of the night upon them. Every second that ticked by was another question sprouting in my mind. Did any of it mean anything? Or were you possibly so lonely you felt you had no choice but to whisper the sweet, sweet words that sealed me as yours.

“You know I love you, right”

I didn’t say anything, too stunned to speak, but a smile crept its way upon my lips.

I had planned to go out that night, but the city was no longer calling my name, so I sat on the balcony with my makeup done, hair still wet, and body fresh shaved. I was wearing a simple brown mini-dress, silver eyeshadow, and my brown, vintage Sam Eddleman heels with the orange beaded tassels. The thought of my efforts towards the night going to waste depressed me, but the universe whispered hints of greater things through chimes in the wind.

As I sprawled across the balcony sofa, the first bite of pizza being chewed in my mouth, My phone began to ring. It was 1:06 am, so I was undoubtedly surprised to see a call- even more surprised when I realized the call was coming from you. We don’t do that. Why are you calling?

“Hello?”

“Hi DND Princess”

“what?” I questioned with a laugh, wiping marinara sauce off my mouth

“you heard me- anyway, I need your opinion on my outfit”

I checked my phone and realized you had messaged me before deciding to call 6 minutes later, and again immediately after to bypass the do not disturb settings I placed on my phone, leaving me slightly flattered.

“where’s this happening”

my heart sank a mile. The idea of you trying to impress other girls made me sick, even more sick when I realized you were recruiting me to confirm the effectiveness of your attire. Where are you going at 1am and why am I being made to help?

“just meet me at the elevator”

“Okay” and I abandoned my pizza with two lonely bites on the chair as I left to meet you outside my door.

You looked cute- maybe the best I’d seen you dress, but I would never give you that gratification of telling you that unprompted. Though it seemed you hardly needed my opinion, because you handed me an headphone and started talking

“Where are you going?” I laughed, trying to gather answers.

“home” and you insisted i put your headphone in so we could “stim together”

I listened for a few beats, immediately recognizing the voice but not the song.

“Is this lil peep?”

you smiled “you know lil peep? It just came out today”

I fought back a scoff. Of course I do, he is far from underground. Though, my familiarity stemmed from a former 13 year old angst, head bumping to his discography. I was delighted with your satisfaction of my knowledge.

“So what do you think?” as you motioned towards your attire, entering the elevator lobby

“This is cute! Probably my favorite thing I’ve seen you in”

“Really?” and you smiled and looked around.

You did look good. It was a nice contrast to the sweatpants and semi wrinkled Nike t-shirt I was used to seeing you in. The outfit you had put together wasn’t anything special, but individually, the articles of clothing were of quality.. Your jeans looked expensive- the intentional distressing and monogrammed pattern told me all I needed to know. The cream colored sweatshirt and bulky silver chain just added to the appeal. I could eat you up. 

I only awakened to the realization that we had entered the elevator as I hear you tease the girls fobbing us up to your floor “we don’t even live here- we just broke in”

“Sam, stop” and I playfully shoo’d your hand away from pressing every elevator button.

We didn’t see each other too much, but things like this made me grateful to live so close to you. The commute was short. intentional. intimate. ours.

We finished the five story elevator ride and laughed our way down the hallway, stumbling into your apartment kitchen, frozen in our tracks. We had been so careful before, but with your alcohol ridden condition and my love struck gaze, we were unprepared for what greeted us.

“oh…hey,” he said in his athletic-short, hairy-chested, shirtless glory as he reached for the top shelf of the pantry, staring at us as we entered the door. James.

I wonder what the gears churning in his brain looked like when he saw us lunge into the kitchen, comfortable laughter filling the air. We weren’t at all unfamiliar. We had done this before. This was simply the first time he saw it.

“If you were anybody else we could hang out, but because you’re you- I don’t want him seeing you. It would just be too much, and I don’t really feel like dealing with that” you told me one night as you rolled your shirt down your chest.

I wasn’t sure what that meant, but the mixture of annoyance and intrigue was enough to slow the motor of a mouth of mine.

Besides, I hadn’t felt much like dealing with it either. I already hated the glances in the lobby, pretending I didn’t remember the night I ran out of his room. Pretending I hadn’t spent my free time since growing attached to the guy he shared a wall with. Even without my history with James, the history between the two of you was enough to convince me we were best kept hidden.

“you made that so much worse” you laughed, but i knew you were being truthful.

You were right though, I panicked and stared at him as we left an awkward trail of laughter on our way to your room.

“what am i doing here sam”

The rest of this night- much like most of our relationship- happens in flashes.

“you should stay the night”

I laugh again. There’s a nervous hint in my tone, but I try my best to hold a trickle of confidence. You had to have been pulling my leg. We’re more of the done and gone kind of people, nothing more, nothing less. You couldn’t possibly need my company for more than our usual hour or two.

Picking up on my suspicions, you cock your head and further “for what it’s worth- I don’t want to have sex. I just wanted a friend to hang out with- you don’t want to hang out with me”

and as I do, I froze. I did. More than anything. I craved your closeness like a baby crying for its first breath of fresh air, and at this point, I was too far gone to fight it.

I had been anxious about the night to begin with. Every year the fraternities on campus host a highly exclusive, week-long string of parties. Advertised as a celebration of a year worked hard, everybody knew it was just another platter of wasted girls looking for a good time. Admittedly, I had done a few anxious laps around the frat house to scope out the field. To observe the sea of beautiful women that represented temptation. Harder than me, they also existed at your disposal, but we had more history and you knew I’d be there at your beck and call.

“okay- just let me go get my pajamas”

“you brought pajamas” you said as a smile lit up across your face

“ no. I have to go back to my room and grab some”

You tilted your head and began rummaging though your drawer

“Nahhhh, just wear something of mine”

I once recall the time you got slightly aggravated when my head had brushed against the underside of your pillow. Despite spending multiple nights in your bed, I don’t think I had ever been below your sheets- so sharing your clothes?

”I feel like if you leave, you won’t come back”

“Okay” I caved, as I questioned why most of your clothes resided in ziploc bags in your drawers. I had gone through the effort of organizing my drawers with structured dividers, while  your system indicated temporariness. You told me not to worry about it, but looking around your room, I could tell you’ve made it a house, while I’ve built myself a home.

After a failed attempt at locating something in your clothing filled snack baggies, you began shuffling through your hamper, much to my disdain. I protested the idea of wearing your dirty clothes, to which you explained that the clothes in the hamper weren’t dirty at all. That you had tried a new detergent that caused you to break out in a rash.. Silly, but I loved that your skin was as sensitive as mine. The tenderness of your touch, amplified.

A blue shirt materialized, and alongside it, a pair of boxer briefs that nearly busted at the seams on my thighs, making me feeling slightly insecure. Between the clothes and conversation, you pulled out two shots of fireball from your pocket, smirking at the effort you had to put in to get the guys at the frat to let you take them.

”You want to drink right now?” I questioned. It was late, but I didn’t want to rain on your parade and provide you with any reason to doubt your invitation for my company. Plus, I was dead sober. I figured one shot wouldn’t hurt

“Well, I guess it is still technically club hours” I rationalized after looking at the 1:30am flashing across your clock and we drank. The warm, and tingly cinnamon flavored liquid roused in my throat.

We sat on your naked bed as you pulled out a half finished bottle of smirnoff ice to top us off. I was slightly appalled.

“can I cheers to your nose ring”

“Sure” and I tilted my head slightly in your direction with a nervous, tight lipped smile as you clinked the bottle to my nose. Butterflies swam around my stomach. It was stupid and it was simple, but it was an offering of my body not under yours.

After a few sips you passed it to me, quickly finishing the bottle. Following previous mentions of your intoxication, I didn’t want to allow you another drink.

“save some for me” you groaned, and I replied with a half-hearted apology, though I wasn’t truly sorry

the drinks weren’t enough for your appetite, because you suggested we smoke. As you opened the door to head outside, the sight of James, still shirtless, laying across the couch watching tv prompted me to run and hide behind your door. Seeing me in the apartment with you was already hard enough, but the addition of me walking around in your underwear? sigh

He chuckled a little “so does that mean she remembers me?”

“Yeah” I said meekly through the crack in the door.

Clearly he had remembered me. I wonder how many times he heard laughter coming from your room or the faint whisper of a feminine voice and pieced together I had been there. Maybe it didn’t matter to him, maybe there had been other girls with other laughs. Maybe I was one of many and my voice was indistinguishable. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

The two of you went back and forth for a few minutes, but much like the first time we met, I was too engulfed in my own embarrassment and shame to truly process the conversation. Only this time, I’m not standing outside your bedroom door with James, I’m hiding behind it.

I no longer recall every conversation we had or how we stumbled upon them, but I remember the feeling of concern when you told me you had wanted to stop drinking as much. That you had been in and out of the hospital for it a handful of times- bringing up your collection of hospital bracelets once again.

“How do your parents not find out- with the bill and all, you know?” thinking back to my brief stint just months prior, waking up in a hospital bed, shirtless and confused.

“I take care of it before they even get a chance”

And my brain got to running as I remembered how much the ambulance ride cost me in January, and I began to wonder how much you truly come from footing the bill before your parents catch wind- multiple times at that.

And as if you could read my mind, you open: “I live in a palace”

Another nervous chuckle exits my mouth as I contort my face into a confused smile “what?”

“Yeah, not many people know this. I don’t really tell them. I’m telling you because.” you pause to find the right words “I don’t think you’ll do anything malicious”

The balcony door opens, and James appears again.

A few moments of awkward conversation follows, James offering his abundance of unwanted delivery food and you offering him a seat with us outside for the millionth time. But really, I think you were anxious about the storm to come, and he was possibly curious about our dynamic. Regardless, we were all trying to level out the playing field.

James turns around to head inside, and as the door clicks shut behind him, we circle back to our initial conversation. This time, I opened up.

“I blacked out in January and woke up in the hospital. It was bad. The smell of alcohol makes me sick- even just the thought of it” and my mouth began to water in the same way it does when you find yourself keeled over the toilet in a bar after a few ambitious shots too many. I wince.

“Have you ever done anything else? Like coke?”

I look at you, our faces dimly lit from the lights in the courtyard. “No, I haven’t. I have an addictive personality, I think I would have too much fun and not want to stop” I said it in a soft, yet straightforward manner. I didn’t have much proof of it yet, but I knew my body would crave such a high forever. I live for a good time. Unsurprisingly, you told me that you had. Of course.

“Have you talked to your friends about this?” I ask with a tender care in my voice. The usual teasing and playful tones have dissipated entirely from our voices by this point. All guards are down.

The conversation goes on until you put out the joint and one of us suggests we head inside to make your naked bed. You toss the sheets on your mattress, and as I try to sort the fitted sheet from the flat sheet, you take a bundle from me, flap it in the air, and let the blanket swallow me. I flail my arms around, laughing, and emerge from the draped blanket to meet your eyes in the dark. As you take my hand, a frightening, yet warm chill races through my body. You lift our shared hand in the air and spin me around, ending the twirl with me wrapped in your arms as you place a delicate kiss on my forehead. We were simply two people existing in each other’s presence, dancing in the darkness of your room.

I remember the thirty minutes you spent in bed as I laid my head on your chest, repeating the words “I need to lock in, I need to get my shit together” I remember the sounds of your voice as I sat on top of you, leaning forward to kiss you on the cheek before i leave, pleading “just five more minutes, please” I remember the quiet whistle that escaped your nose as you breathed, prompting an uncomfortable laugh as you tried to play off your embarrassment. I remember the wave of confusion washing over my body as you told me you thought we were two people on the same wavelength as I wiggled in your bed, dancing along with your music. The softly uttered “you know you’re more than that, right?” after I playfully jabbed at the existence of other girls in your life. I remember the way your skin felt on mine, as you rubbed circles on my hand as you soothed yourself to bed after my insistent “shut up and go to sleep”

For a while, I remembered it all.