Indie's friends are all nice and friendly, but being with them makes me feel so out of place and so awkward. I can't relate to most of the things they talk about and I can't seem to find something to talk about that they could relate with.
Whilst I don't usually consider myself old, I realise that I don't consider myself young either and I hate that it takes hanging out with a bunch of university students for me to realise that.
Afraid that I might come to another revelations the longer I stay with them, I decide to sit at the bar all by myself. I'm not exactly alone as there are other people sitting on my left and right, so I don't know why it bothers Indie so much that I've decided not to sit with her and her friends.
"Are you sure you don't wanna join us?" Indie asks as she waits for her and her friends' beer. She's volunteered to get their refills and I've taken that as an opportunity to escape them.
"Yes," I nod as I bring my drink up to my lips.
Indie looks sceptical as she scans my face, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Are you sure you want to be alone?"
"I'm not alone," I reply as I hold up my glass, swirling the drink. "I have my drink with me. This is my friend tonight."
"You're so drunk," she mutters under her breath as she rolls her eyes and scoffs. She's not quite right, though, because I'm not so drunk; I'm drunk, that's it. There's a difference. "Do you secretly not like my friends?"
"No," I answer with a frown. A cynical look crosses Indie's face so I decide to add, "They're a bunch of great people, really, but right now I'd rather be alone, In."
She lets out a sigh and nods. The bartender returns with her orders, then, and she turns to me, "So you're gonna be here?"
"Yes," I nod. My head has started to get a little bit – really – groggy and I know that it has everything to do with the fact that I haven't stopped drinking vodka ever since I got here. I'm not even a big fan of vodka, but it's what I drink when I want to get drunk or in another words, when I want to forget everything that has happened tonight. "I like here."
"Fine," she relents, a sigh escaping her mouth. I shoot her an appreciative smile; it might look as a stupid smile instead, I wouldn't know because I don't have a mirror in front of me. "But if you don't feel like being alone anymore, come to our table or shout my name and I'll be with you."
"Of course," I tell her even though I'm quite certain that I won't go to their table again or shout her name in a place full of strangers. "I'll make I'll do that."
Before returning to her table, she scans my face one more time as if to make sure that I'm really okay. Once she seems satisfied, she pats my hand and walks away. The second she reaches her table and her friends realise that I'm not with her, they shoot me a questioning look, probably wondering why I'm not with them. I simply raise my glass, hoping that they'd get the idea that I prefer to be alone not that I don't like them. God, I really hope they don't think I dislike them. I don't want Indie's friends to have a bad impression of me.
"Another one for you?" A rough voice startles me. I look up and the bartender kinks an eyebrow at me, waiting for an answer.
"Oh. Yeah, sure." I hand him my empty glass – I didn't even realise that it's already empty – and straighten up a little. "Keep it coming please."
"Rough night?" He asks as he pours the drink into my glass. I nod. "Well, vodka always does the trick – for me, at least."
I don't answer. Instead, my eyes wander around the pub, looking at the people there – most of them aren't alone like me. It is then I can't help but notice how empty, how desolated I feel compared to some of the joy and fun these people seem to have. My eyes then dart to the door when a group of people I'd rather not see tonight walks in.
