Everything But Love

Chapter 4 - Cranberry Vodka

"Hello?" I answered, hesitantly.

"Dante! Buddy! It's Emilio. What's happening, my man?" Came a husky, familiar voice.

I felt his naive, but cheerful, tone tie my stomach into a knot of guilt.

"Absolutely nothing," I muttered, truthfully.

"So Dante, I wanted to ask you something the other day but I didn't get the chance..." he started. Sweat beads appeared on my forehead as my mind raced with all the probabilities of how this conversation could sway. He knows.

"I'm listening," I uttered, feeling my heart pulsating with dread.

"My roommate is throwing a party tomorrow night. I meant to invite you but the topic never really came up." Emilio waited about two seconds before continuing. "I know you're not into these types of things, but I think it would do you some good to get out of that apartment sometime. Get some fresh air, you know? So, what do you say?"

I felt a sort of relief wash over my entire body, like rainfall after a scorching day.

Emilio was right, I hated parties. The thought of sitting in a stuffy room filled with the smell of sweat, marijuana, and desperation made me want to vomit. Girls pretending to be drunk to impress boys that would treat them like shit sickened me. Parties were just a temporary distraction from the mediocrity of everyone's lives; I just chose to accept mine for what it was. So I made a conscious decision to never part-take in such nonsense, and that was that.

But there was just one problem. Emilio's attendance almost guaranteed Janna's. Even the tiniest sliver of a chance to see her seemed irresistible, and made me temporarily forget my hatred for parties. I cursed myself in my head.

"I'll be there." I sighed in self-loathing.

"Yes! I knew you'd come through! See you there."

I put down my phone and sat in silence, contemplating my decision and its consequences.

The next evening, at approximately half past nine, I stepped through the doorway into Emilio's apartment. It was dark, but you could still see the smoke forming toxic clouds just at the surface of the ceiling. Girls were dancing seductively with their drinks in hand, spilling half its contents onto the filthy carpet. The men were huddled in a corner playing drinking games over a wobbly, plastic table.

From the corner of my eye, I spotted Emilio shooting his shot at beer pong. I scanned the room for Janna but her absence was painfully evident. I made a conscious decision to wait until she showed up. As I trudged along through the crowded room, a slender figure bumped into me, spilling her drink onto my white shirt.

"Oh my God, I am so sorry!" Celeste apologized frantically. "Wait," she said upon realization. "Dante? Is that you?"

"Yeah," I managed to murmur as I assessed the stark red stain adorning the left side of my shirt.

Her cheeks were flustered from the stuffiness of the room, and there was a red solo cup in her hand. Seeing her in this environment felt out of place, almost transdimensional. Although I could still feel her concoction dripping down my torso, her familiarity decreased my anxiousness significantly.

"Wait here, I'll go get some napkins!" Celeste exclaimed as she hurriedly navigated to the kitchen. When she returned, she began rubbing the stain with a handful of wet napkins to no avail.

"Celeste, it's okay." I tried reassuring her. It wasn't.

"Oh no, I'm just making it worse." She visibly became increasingly more upset.