It was a Friday night, and music pulsed from the renovated loft’s brick walls while strobe lights flickered to the beat. Paper lanterns dangled from wood beams running across the ceiling where industrial chandeliers cast dim light onto the glossy, acid-stained cement floor. People mingled around Amos—a faint buzz of conversations and the scrape of dress-shoes in the designated dance area. Others weaved past him, reaching for snacks on the buffet table, so he flashed them brief smiles before pivoting aside.
Droplets formed around his fingers as he gripped a chilled beer bottle. He hated attending Lorena’s office parties. Nothing was worse than forcing himself to chat with the rich techies she worked with. They were all pretentious with their expensive condos gentrifying the middle to low-working-class neighborhoods.
Pressing the drink to his lips, he took a slow sip while staring across the room. As usual, Lorena was off in her world of industry talk with workmates, forgetting all about him. It was always business for her in social gatherings. At least the school faculty parties he attended were fun. People smiled.
Amos slid back the sleeve of his flannel shirt to check his watch, and time was dripping like molasses. Lorena rarely wanted to leave early. Occasions like these resulted in her being wasted by the night's end.
It was once cute. But not anymore.
“Hey, man.”
“Oh, hey!” Amos lit up with a smile. Marco was the only person he tolerated out of Lorena’s coworkers. “Fun party, huh?”
“It’s a damn snooze fest. I mean, look at all these assholes.”
“Yeah, I see them,” Amos snorted.
“All they do is talk about work. Like, this is a party, and they’re still talking business? Give it a rest! It’s a damn Friday night.”
“I hear you,” Amos replied, his eyes following Lorena in her magenta wrap-dress as she walked across the room with her coworker. She often joked how Elliot was her work husband—a term that chafed Amos’s spine.
“That guy is a dick,” Marco grunted, his gaze following them too. “Thinks he’s Rico Suave, always chatting up the ladies and looking down his nose at the rest of us.”
“I’m sure he’s harmless.”
“You’d think, but he’s a snake,” Marco chuckled, and then his smile faded. “You know he has a crush on Lorena, right?”
Amos gripped the beer bottle tighter. “I figured. We went out to dinner with him once, and it was weird. He paid more attention to Lorena than his date.”
“And yet you’re ok with them being friends?”
“I trust Lorena.”
“If you say so...” Marco sipped his drink.
“I do say so.”
However, as Amos watched them mixing up cocktails in the open-concept kitchen, his stomach flipped. Elliot’s palm rested on Lorena’s lower back as she reached for glassware in the white cabinets. When she straightened, his hand remained there while whispering into her ear. Lorena’s head fell back with a laugh, her brunette waves cascading like a chocolate waterfall under the bright kitchen lights.
“I’m gonna grab another drink,” Amos announced and made his way across the room, squeezing past guests. When he made it to the kitchen, Lorena and Elliot stopped chatting. “Hey. How’s it going?”
“Fine,” Lorena replied.
“Good.” Amos slid his arm around her waist and pulled her in for a head kiss—creating distance between Elliot. Lorena’s body stiffened in his embrace, and she patted his chest before releasing a forced laugh.
“Miss me?” she asked.
“I did.” He glanced down at her, his eyes skimming over the low-cut neckline on her wrap-dress. Lorena was a curvy yet fit woman who looked amazing in everything she wore, and she was aware of how attractive she was. It was a confidence that attracted Amos but lately bugged him. Men often turned their heads to stare at her, and she basked in their attention. Sometimes too much. “Did you miss me?”
“Oh, god, Amos. How much have you had to drink?”
“Not enough.” His tattooed hands adjusted her dress.
“Rude!” She smacked them away.
“Babe, it’s a bit much.”
“You told me I look hot in this dress.”
“You do. Boiling, but when we left the house, it was wrapped a little tighter.” He glanced down at her cleavage. “Now it’s so loose I can see your bra, and what can I say? I don’t want to share those beauties with everyone else.”
“Fine...” she bit back a smile, her cheeks warming as she tugged the material closer together.
When Lorena peered up at him, Amos claimed her mouth with his. For a moment, she seemed to enjoy the exchange as her lips parted, accepting his tongue with her hands grasping the material of his shirt. But then, there was the faint sound of Elliot shifting his weight from one foot to the other before clearing his throat—prompting Lorena to pull away and smack Amos’s chest.
“Babe!” She gave him a playful glare and pivoted towards Elliot. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s all good.” He held up his hands and began backing out of the kitchen. “I’ll give you love birds some space.”
“Wait.” Lorena followed, but Amos reeled her back in.
“Not so fast. I have more plans for you.”
“Babe.” She narrowed her eyes. “This is a party we’re supposed to mingle.”
“Yeah, and you’ve been ignoring me all night.”
“Oh, god.” She rolled her eyes. “I have not.”
“This is the first time we’ve talked since walking through the door, so yeah, you have.”
“Are we seriously going to argue about this? Because I’m just trying to have a good time.”
“With Elliot?”
“No.” She scowled. “With everyone.”
“Funny because you’ve been glued at the hip all night.”
“Ugh!” She rolled her eyes again. “I hate when you get all jealous. The dress is one thing, but Elliot is my coworker, and we get along.”
“I have coworkers too, but we don’t go around calling each other husband and wife.”
“I can’t with you right now!” Lorena spun to leave but then stopped. “Don’t embarrass me. This is a party. Try having some fun.”
In the absence of Lorena’s presence, the song bumping through the speaker system made Amos snort. The lyrics about dancing alone in a corner made him lean his head against the cabinet with a thunk. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Perfect. Just perfect.”
“Everything all good?” Marco asked, reaching for a bottle of whiskey on the white marble counter.
“Fantastic. I’m at a party with my girlfriend, but she’s off in her world.”
“I know what you need!” Reaching into his jeans pocket, Marco pulled out a joint. “Let’s take this to the balcony.”
A gust of raw city air blew through their garments as they stepped outside. Marco closed the sliding glass door behind them, muting the party’s cadence. The condo was ten levels high, with a vista of lights twinkling across a canvas of buildings and traffic. Dull honking sounds echoed, drawing Amos’s attention to the trail of brake lights weaving up a steep hill like a snake on fire. Even at night, the city pulsed. The spark from Marco’s lighter flashed in his peripheral, followed by the scent of marijuana smoke. He nudged Amos, passing him the joint while blowing out a cloud.
“It’s good! I get it from my boy who grows it in Humboldt County.”
Pinching the spliff between his fingers, Amos brought the end to his lips and took a drag. Its warmth swirled in his lungs before pushing out with a breath. Balancing it between his fingers, he twisted and leaned against the balcony railing—taking another puff. Allowing his head to fall back, he sent a curl of smoke towards the next level.
“I am in the mood to dissolve in the sky...” he whispered.
“What?” Marco snorted.
“It’s a Virginia Woolf quote. I read it the other day. Seems fitting.”
“I like it.”
“Me too. And this is good.” Amos motioned with the joint, his head feeling lighter. “Hits quick.”
He passed it back to Marco but, in doing so, glimpsed the bedroom to the right. It had doors that opened to the balcony, with the curtains parted just enough to see Lorena sprawled on her stomach with Elliott beside her. They were chatting and laughing, their backs facing the sliding glass with their feet dangling off the edge of the bed. Elliot nudged her foot with his, which looked too comfortable for Amos’s liking. His fists clenched at his sides, the buzz vaporizing.
“Oh, snap...” Marco placed his hand on Amos’s shoulder. “Want me to square him up for you? Because I’ve been dying to punch that guy!”
“No. I’ve got this.”
Walking to the glass, Amos tapped on it, causing Lorena and Elliot to jerk their attention towards it. Her eyes widened briefly before rolling to her feet and parting the curtain. With the material pushed aside, he saw a third person sitting in an overstuffed chair beside the bed. Amos returned his gaze to Lorena and mouthed the word, open. She rolled her eyes but slid the glass—the noise from the party spilling out on music notes.
“What are you doing?”
“Hanging out,” Lorena shrugged.
“I'm ready to go home.”
“It’s only ten.” Lorena paused and sniffed the air. “Are you smoking pot out here!”
“Maybe.”
“Amos!” She stomped onto the balcony. “You can’t do that here. This is my boss’s house!”
“Relax,” Marco said, smoke curling from his mouth. “Jason doesn’t care. He snorted coke earlier.”
“Stay out of it.” Lorena glared.
“Let’s go home,” Amos repeated.
“No. You go home since you’re such a party pooper.”
“I’m not leaving you here alone.”
“I’m not alone.” Lorena motioned around. “I’m surrounded by workmates.”
“You’re surrounded by one workmate,” he corrected.
“Ugh! Again, with the jealousy thing. Stop.”
“You know what I’d like to stop?” Amos motioned over her. “This attitude that’s been popping up.”
“Maybe I’m acting like this because you’re driving me insane. This is a party, and you keep moping about instead of having fun.”
“This party blows,” Marco said.
“Shut up, Marco. No one is talking to you!” Lorena barked.
“Like I care.” He brought the joint to his lips and took a long drag.
“Come on, Lorena. Let’s go home,” Amos sighed.
“For the last time, no.” She retreated to the door. “You go home. I’ll catch an Uber.”
“Lorena...” Amos reached for her, but she dodged inside and slid the door in his face. When he pounded on the glass, she snatched the curtains closed.
“Fuck,” Marco said. “That’s brutal.”
“This is bullshit.” Amos released a ragged breath. “I’m out of here.”
“I’ll watch her for you.”
“Don’t bother.”
∆∆∆
It was two in the morning when the front door squeaked open, followed by the sound of heels dragging against the hardwood floor. Amos rolled over in bed, his palm hitting the clock on the nightstand, prompting a red laser beam to cast the time onto the ceiling. Releasing a long breath, he drummed his fingers on the bare flesh of his abdomen—deciding whether or not to get up.
However, the whirr of the refrigerator and the clash of items rearranging prompted him to check on her. Knowing how hammered she got at office parties, she was probably looking for the water pitcher, and he knew she’d make a mess trying to pour a glass. Slipping on a shirt, he exited the bedroom and shuffled down the hallway where moonlight crept through the window panels overlooking the sunroom.
The refrigerator door slammed, canceling the yellow glow across the kitchen tiles as he turned the corner. Lorena reached for a glass from the top cabinet, but it almost tumbled from her fingers.
“Fuck,” she whispered.
“It’s late,” he said, and she flinched.
“Jesus! Can you not?”
“Can I not what?”
“Scare me!” she slurred.
“It’s late, Lorena. Where have you been?”
“At the party, duh.”
“This isn’t ok. The way you acted earlier and stumbling through the door at two-twenty-six in the morning—”
“Oh, chill out!” She brushed past him, the water sloshing over the lip of the glass in her hand. “Just because you act like an old man all the time doesn’t mean I have to.”
“An old man?” He spun, following her. “Because I don’t want my girlfriend to ignore me all night or get hammered and come home late?”
“Yeah, exactly,” she slurred over her shoulder and bumped into the photos hanging on the hallway wall.
“Easy!” He steadied the frames.
When they entered the bedroom, she set the drink on the dresser, and it almost toppled over, but Amos lunged before it could spill. Lorena snorted, giving him an eye roll, and peeled off her garment. Despite being furious, Amos tugged the strings of the wrap-dress, unraveling it for her. Then, Lorena stepped out of her heels with her ankles wobbling while picking her wedgie.
“Why were you acting like that at the party?”
“Like what?” She rolled her eyes, pivoting to scowl at him.
“Like you’re ashamed of me. As if Elliot is your boyfriend and not me.”
“Oh my god, Amos! Please, just stop.”
She stumbled forward, her toes tripping on the shag area rug, but caught herself on the bench at the foot of the bed. Another curse slipped from her lips before straightening and crawling onto the mattress. Amos watched as she yanked the sheets back, causing the pillows to fly off. She snorted but then rolled underneath.
“I’m gonna ask you one more time, Lorena.”
“Oh, god, what now?” She face-palmed herself. “I just want to go to sleep!”
“Why are you with me?”
“What?”
“Why are you with me?”
“Because you have a big di—”
“I’m serious, Lorena!” he barked. “Why are you with me?”
“You’re no fun,” she huffed.
“Clearly, you’re not happy with me—”
“Amos! Of course, I am. We talked about this a few days ago.” She flapped the sheets back, exposing her body, and ran a finger down her abdomen. “Now, if you want to make me really happy...”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he blew out a long breath. “As tempting as that is, I’m not in the mood. I’m quite angry with you.”
“Good.” She rolled over, showing off the lace thong as she wiggled her butt and giggled. “Because now I’m horny, and I’ve been bad, Mr. Castillo.”
“You’re drunk.”
“So what? You used to enjoy seducing me after a couple of drinks.”
“A couple of drinks. Not wasted. I don’t like you this way, and I don’t appreciate you treating me like shit.”
Grabbing the duffle bag he had placed at the foot of the bed hours ago, he slung it over his shoulder to face Lorena. Noticing this, she shot into an upright position, her brows smashing together.
“What’s that!” She jabbed her finger towards the bag.
“I’m going to stay at my mom’s for the rest of the weekend. We need some space.”
“Like hell we do!” She sprang from the bed and, in one leap, was clinging to him. “Amos, stop!”
“We need space, Lorena." He peeled her arms away. "We’ve been arguing too much, so this will help us think about what we want from the relationship.”
“Are you breaking up with me?” Her eyes widened.
“No. I’m saying we should think about what we want.”
“And what do you want, Amos!?” She shoved his chest, but he caught her wrists.
“I want to be with you, Lorena. I do. But lately, you’re making it hard, which is why we need some space to recalibrate.”
“Fine!” She ripped her hands away, her eyes brimming with tears. “Then leave!”
“I’ll call you in the morning.”
“Don’t bother.”
“When you’re sober, you’ll realize this is a good idea.”
"A good idea!?" A feral screech exploded from the back of Lorena’s throat as she shoved Amos toward the bedroom door, shouting at him to get out.
When he skidded into the hallway, she slammed the door on his heels, and he winced at the sting radiating up his calves. Bruising her pride was the last thing he wanted to do, but a break was necessary, so he proceeded towards the front door.
Outside, white moonlight winked as clouds drifted past. He was halfway down the walkway when he paused and bent at the waist, hands on knees. A stream of fog blew from his lips in a long exhale of relief.
He was making the right choice.