"somewhere in between who I used to be, and who I'll be tomorrow when the champagne blows my mind, thrills don't come for free, the price you pay for dreams, in a sea of strangers, I can't find me anymore"
life of the party • all time low
***
It was late when I left the library that evening. Tired and mentally drained, I packed my books into my bag and headed outside to my car. The rain still hadn't let up from the afternoon and an icy chill whipped across my skin. Tugging my coat harder around me, I dashed down the steps and toward the car park.
The late hour meant the drive back to town would be at least twenty-five minutes. An ongoing downpour didn't make the journey any faster and even with the heater at full blast, I could still smell the wet earth wafting through the vents like Mother Nature's personal vengeance on the loose.
I'd only just reached the first intersection on the town's main strip when I looked over to see a black Mercedes parked at the curb about twenty feet away. It was the only car on the street, making the tall figure standing outside of it all the more recognisable.
Even through the thick rain and blur of window wipers, there was no denying that familiar soft brown hair and muscular build. Not even at dusk.
"Connor?" I asked out loud, unable to believe what I was seeing.
There was no way to tell from this angle who he was speaking to but the back window of the Mercedes was cracked. No one in Connor's family had such a car and I'd never seen his friends drive anything fancier than a Subaru. This wasn't someone he knew well.
That apparently wasn't stopping him. Through the rain, I watched Connor nod once, smile, and make his way around to the other side of the car and climb in.
The light turned green but I remained stationary, waiting as the Mercedes pulled away from the curb and started toward me. No other cars had appeared behind me in the meantime.
I didn't recognise the licence plates but it turned out I didn't need to. The Mercedes passed just as the back window rolled up, but not before I caught a glimpse of dark curls and that same champagne-coloured bow clip I'd only ever seen on one person here before.
Esme.
Completely dumbfounded, I watched stupidly as the car passed by me through the intersection and disappeared around a corner. Questions immediately filled my head.
What was Connor doing with Esme Mortensen? How did they even know each other? Why did Connor get into her car? Were they hooking up?
My blood ran cold at the last thought. Connor was gay but people experimented all the time. Especially at our age. What if our conversation last week had turned him onto a different path?
"You're a fucking idiot," I cursed myself, because that's all you could be in love.
Even if Connor was just experimenting then what did it matter that it was with Esme? She was kind, gorgeous and sophisticated. Her travels had provided her a wealth of knowledge into different cultures and a high education made it easy to have a conversation about anything with her. Was that something Connor wanted?
A part of me deflated a little at the thought of Connor being with someone else. He wasn't mine, but now that I wanted him to be, it hurt.
I finally began to drive just before the light turned red again. "Whatever. It doesn't matter."
Connor could have Esme. He could have fancy cars and money and pretty dark curls to run his hands through and-
"Hey, man. What's up?" Keegan answered the phone after only the first ring.
My hands clenched around the steering wheel, my phone cradled in the holder next to it. "Call everyone. I don't care who turns up. Just make it happen."
"Not that I don't appreciate a good party," Keegan said slowly, "but are you okay?"
"I'm fine." The odometer clicked over eighty. "Are we doing this or not?"
"Okay, yeah. I'll make the call." Keegan said, somewhat carefully. "See you soon."
I ended the call and focused on the drive home. If I couldn't have the one thing I wanted then I was damn well going to have the distraction.
***
"Not that I don't love your spontaneous side," Quinton yelled over the blaring music three hours later. "But what inspired you to throw an out-of-the-blue party at ten o'clock on a Friday night?"
Alcohol was quickly working its way through my bloodstream, giving the edges of my vision a nice rosy haze. Everything was flashes of blinding lights and colour beneath the smokescreen of tequila.
"What are you talking about?" I slurred. Somehow I'd ended up on the outskirts of the living room, my friends on either side of me. That was weird. When had I moved from the kitchen? Or the living room? Or the back deck where I'd been aggressively flirting with a football player I was sure had been into me since ninth grade.
Keegan leaned against the wall on my left, half-watching at least six-dozen drunken teenagers scream the lyrics to a song by The Weeknd. He looked back to me and said, "I think he's asking what brought on this sudden desire to fill your house with people you haven't spoken to since you were sixteen."
"Oh, please," I scoffed, nearly tripping over my feet as I moved to look out across the living room and pointed, "That's Sammy from Bio. Christian from Maths. That...is the weird kid who ate a whole peanut butter jar on a dare and then threw up in the science lab. What was his name again? Darren? Dustin? Either way. He's known as Butter Binge Boy now. Do you think they ever found the vomit he left in Mr Hanforth's de-"
Keegan hauled me back into the dark hallway. I hiccupped once at the force before crashing against the wall, laughing stupidly. "What? I'm just stating facts."
"Dakota," Quinton said, and he sounded concerned. I hated that.
Reaching out, I used my fingers to push both sides of Quinton's mouth up, forcing a smile onto his face. "You shouldn't frown so much. You're too handsome to let that smile go to waste. Hey! Question. Do you think Esme gets to see him smile? I mean, he's so pretty. And it's so easy to make him laugh." My hands were moving in big gestures now that I didn't remember deciding to do. "Do you think she makes him laugh? I want to make him laugh. I want to make him smile all the time, like, you don't even know. I would burn bridges for that smile."
Keegan leaned close to Quinton while still looking at me. "Who is he talking about?"
"I have no idea." Quinton hissed back. "He's been rambling on for the past twenty minutes."
"And his ass," I groaned. "Have you seen it in that one pair of jeans he wears? I mean, oh my God. I want to put my teeth in it."
Keegan frowned thoughtfully. "Have we missed something? Quick! Think back to all the people Dakota has said he wants to bang in the past week."
"I seriously doubt Blake Lively is into high school boys." Quinton said. "Plus, isn't she married?"
"Oh, man." Keegan moaned painfully. "That's got to be a bisexual crisis right there. Blake Lively and Ryan Reynolds. Dakota, was watching Green Lantern a bisexual crisis for you?" He turned to Quinton. "Dude, we are so inconsiderate! We made Dakota watch superhero movies every weekend when we were fourteen without even considering the ramifications of what that much hotness would do to a chaotic bisexual! Did I use that term correctly? Dakota, are you a chaotic bisexual? Whatever, I'm rolling with it. Oh, dude. We are so sorry!"
Quinton snorted in amusement. "He's drunk and somehow still sounds poetic while lamenting about whoever he's got a crush on right now. He's definitely a chaotic bisexual."
"It's whatever. I don't even care." I scoffed, having tuned out of my friends' conversation minutes ago. I took a long swig from the beer bottle I was holding before declaring, rather loudly, "He can go and kiss her and tell her how amazing she is and how perfect her hair looks all he wants! Or someone else! Whoever! As long as it's not me. That's how much I don't care. Spoiler alert. I lied. I do care. Do I look like I care?"
Keegan and Quinton both stared back at me with blank looks.
"Uhh," Keegan said slowly. "Don't you think it's time to cut him off?"
"I tried that already." Quinton replied. "He's got a backup flask and I am not reaching into the area he's stashed that in."
"You know what," I placed a hand against each of their chests and moved my friends aside. "I think we need to do something to liven this party up. Excuse me."
Half the soccer team was lining up shots on the counter as I passed the kitchen. "Dakota!" they called. "We've got fireball shots! Come join!"
Turning the music down, I found what I was looking for laying atop the stereo speaker and headed for the centre of the room.
"Oh, God. He's got a microphone." I heard Keegan say somewhere to my left but I tuned it out in favour of taking to the stage. And by stage, I mean the coffee table my mum spent seven-thousand dollars on that had now been converted into a dais for me to confess my sinful thoughts about where I wanted to put my mouth on Connor Taylor's body. Or something like that.
The microphone was only as good as a cheap karaoke design so it didn't exactly have the full range of a sound system. Nevertheless, I persisted.
"Friends!" I yelled. "Acquaintances! Esteemed team members! Kid with the weird eyebrows – yes I'm looking at you, Todd - thank you for choosing to spend your Friday night here at my humble abode."
"Oh my God." Quinton muttered as the rest of the crowd cheered. "Nothing is humble about a mansion. He's completely gone."
"For anyone who doesn't know," I started, "I, Dakota Anderson, am bisexual!"
Another chorus of cheers. Blinking red lights began to fill the room. People were recording this. Good. I'd give them a show.
"So, there's this guy, okay?" I thrust a hand out, wobbling a little on my perch. "And he's like, really hot, and there's this thing he can do with his tongue that makes me-" I broke off with a laugh, "-oh my God, I don't even know. But he's so. Damn. Annoying. Anyone else ever feel like that?"
Another round of cheers and scattered laughter. I recognised most of my team standing around the coffee table, laughing hysterically at my antics. Friends or people I only knew in passing occupied the rest of my parent's sumptuous house, cheeks flushed from the heat and alcohol racing through their systems.
"Like," I swayed on my makeshift platform as I tried to take a step forward. Someone steadied me. "He'll be all confident and sexy one minute, and then turn into an absolute pussy the next. I mean, what is that? How am I supposed to understand what he wants when he keeps giving me mixed signals?"
"Tell him how you feel!" A girl's voice called out.
"I tried that," I slurred, "but he made it all about himself. As usual. Cause that's what he does, you know? He makes you feel things, say them out loud, and then turns around and pretends he never did anything. Why are the hot ones always so vain?"
"Preach, dude!" someone called from the left. Others laughed around him.
"I've got an idea," I said to myself. Then, turning to my team, I yelled over the music, "Matt! Get me a shot!"
The blonde turned at the sound of his name. "You got it, man! Whiskey or tequila?"
"Whatever comes!"
A moment later my beer had been replaced with a shot glass and I held it up to the light, grabbing the microphone once more. "A toast!"
People raised whatever drinks they had and I grinned wildly. "To anyone who's ever been on the shitty side of liking someone they genuinely can't stand when they're sober!"
The crowd echoed back the toast. But right before they could drink, I drunkenly added, "And! A Sponsored message if you will. Please do not vomit in my mum's potted golden gardenias. They were on special order from southern China and she will murder me if I ruin another one of her plants. Cheers!"
The entire room cheered and drank in unison. I looked at my glass, ready to down it and said, "Fuck you, Ta-"
Quinton appeared in front of the coffee table. Reaching for my hand, he gently tugged me down to whisper in my ear, "Dakota, stop. Think about what you're doing, okay? Is this guy even out? He may not appreciate you announcing to a room full of drunk teenagers how much you want to put your mouth on him."
Scoffing, I waved him off. "It's fine. He won't care. He's too busy running off into the sunset with-"
"People are filming this," Quinton hissed urgently. "Some guy in the back is livestreaming. Do you really want that on your conscience tomorrow?"
He released me and I stood back up to my full height. In the microphone, I slurred, "I have just been informed," A hiccup, "that if I want to be conscious tomorrow, I need to do some guy in the back who's livestreaming."
Heads turned toward the back of the room where a guy holding up his phone slowly lowered it, turned to see if there was someone behind him, before looking back and asking, "Me?"
I thrust a pointer finger in his direction. "You, sir, are really hot. In a skittish sort of way. Like a mouse. You're a sexy mouse. Stay right there. I'm coming over. I hope you like the taste of Irish whiskey."
Laughter rang out as hands forcefully pulled me off the coffee table and into the arms of my best friends. The team booed around us.
"Alright, and with that, I think our host needs to sober up a little before he does something he'll regret." Quinton now held the microphone and gestured to me. "Give it for Dakota Anderson, everyone."
Stumbling, I laughed as I collapsed against Keegan's chest. The entire living room filled with cheers as someone turned the music back up, a pulsating beat beginning to shake the ground once more.
Keegan and Quinton hauled me off to the side. It took a lot of work to get me up the stairs in my drunken state but they managed and soon enough I was in my own bathroom, throwing my guts up.
They stood on either side of me, someone rubbing my back soothingly as I hugged the toilet bowl. The window had been opened and I relished the cool night air coming in as I dry-heaved.
When I was done, I collapsed back against Quinton's knees on the bathroom floor. I wasn't sober by any means; my head felt like it was filled with lead, but clarity was beginning to pierce the edges of my drunken haze.
The sound of running water filled the bathroom before a glass was shoved into my hand. "Drink." Keegan demanded.
I gulped down the water thirstily. Without prompting, Keegan took the empty cup from my hand and refilled it. I downed the second one even faster.
"You okay?" Quinton asked when I was finished, running one hand through my sweaty hair.
I drew my knees in and rested my forehead on top of them, eyes closed. If I'd been sober, there would be no way I'd let myself behave so vulnerable and dramatic. No one ever saw this side of me. But the fact was that I wasn't sober, and I was upset, surrounded by two people who would never judge me even after just watching me puke my guts out.
"Dakota?" Keegan asked.
"Why doesn't he want me?" I whispered hoarsely.
I couldn't see what look my friends exchanged but there was a long pause before Quinton said, not unkindly, "This is about Connor, isn't it?"
My head shot up. "No! Why would you think th-"
"Dakota."
I snapped my mouth shut, head dropping back onto my knees. "You can't tell anyone. He's not out at school."
"Buddy, you were the one proclaiming how hot he is to a room full of cameras." Quinton said gently, his hand continuing to massage my hair. "I still can't believe you never actually said his name. That's pretty impressive when you're that wasted actually."
"I guess my subconscious keeps promises even when my mouth can't."
"Promises?"
I groaned. "I promised I wouldn't tell anyone. How did you figure it out?"
Quinton shrugged. "Honestly, it wasn't that hard. I mean, yeah, it took me a minute to put two and two together before tonight but he's all you talk about."
"What?" My head shot up again and I groaned, blood rushing to my head too quickly.
"You really don't see it, do you?"
"See what?"
Quinton looked over to Keegan so I did too. Keegan sighed and said, "He's not wrong, D. Even if all you're doing is cursing him out, you talk about him more than anyone else. Connor this and Connor that. I've never even heard you talk about your past relationships as much as you do him."
"That's because he gets on my nerves."
"I'd say that's not all he gets on."
My jaw dropped open at his words but it was Quinton who spoke next. "He's right, isn't he? You and Connor?"
I buried my face in my hands. "I can't believe this is happening."
"It's nothing to be embarrassed about." Quinton reassured. "You've spent a lot of time around each other. Hate can only get you so far before you need a different motivation."
"Motivation to do what?"
Both of them stared at me.
I waved my hands around. Or at least I thought I did. Things were still a little blurry. "Guys, I did eight shots in the span of ten minutes before making that speech. A little help here?"
Keegan chuckled softly. "I don't think you hate him, man. I think that's just easier to fall back on then the truth."
"Which would be?"
"Oh my God." Keegan laughed as he looked at Quinton over my head. "We're going to have to literally spell it out to him."
Quinton sighed, but it was underlaid with amusement. "He means it's okay to like someone you didn't initially think you would. People adapt and you're allowed to do it without being ashamed."
"What if-" I inhaled sharply. God, what I'd give to be sober right now and not be saying any of this, "-what if it's more than like?"
Keegan's eyes widened. "Is it?"
"I mean," I groaned and covered my face again. "I don't know. Maybe?"
"So you two have actually..."
I shot him a glare and he held his hands up. "Okay, dude. I get it. But if that's how you feel then you don't have to be ashamed of it."
"Yeah," Quinton tugged playfully on my hair, "just maybe don't announce it to a room full of people before telling him."
"I have told him."
"And?"
"And he...didn't say it back."
"Well, what did he say?"
I scoffed wetly. "Basically threw it back in my face. But it's my fault. I was the one who said not to catch feelings."
Keegan reached down and gently stroked my knee. "We don't get to choose who we have feelings for."
"And if you really like him," Quinton added, "then these things have a way of working themselves out."
I laughed wetly. "How do you guys always know the right things to say."
"Years of practice." Keegan smirked, leaning back.
"Past experience." Quinton said, and both Keegan and I turned to look at him wide-eyed.
"You have a girlfriend?" I demanded.
"Since when?" Keegan added.
Quinton smiled. "No, we're not doing this now. This is Dakota's time to be mushy."
I scoffed and turned back around. "You just had to rub it in, didn't you?"
"Trust me, D." He ruffled my hair from above. "Just because it didn't work out today, doesn't mean tomorrow is hopeless. This is the most vulnerable you've ever been. Don't hide that away just because it didn't work out the first time."
I looked up to Keegan, who blinked in surprise and shook his head. "Oh, no. Don't get me wrong, this is nice and all but I ran out of philosophical shit to say two minutes ago."
And for the first time that night, I laughed.
***
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