I go through the rest of the week feeling like I’m only half there, barely scraping by on my assignments. Thursday afternoon I was supposed to have a meeting with my Painting II professor about ideas for the final project, but I lied and told him I was sick. I hadn’t thought of anything and I didn’t have the energy to make something up on the spot.

Cameron hasn’t contacted me at all and I can’t stop overthinking everything I did when we went out to dinner. God! I knew I’d make a fool of myself. I shouldn’t have gone. I feel like such a worthless loser. There’s no way someone like him would want to be friends with someone like me.

I keep going over things in my head: things I didn’t say but should have, things I did say and shouldn’t have, things I should have said in a different way or using a different tone. So on. I need to learn how to be around people if I want to do something with my life. In pretty much every field, you need to interact with people. I don’t feel like I’ll ever end up being a successful artist, so I’ll probably have to keep it as a hobby. I’ll have to get some minimum-wage job, and I’ll need to know how to talk to people to do that kind of work. I should try, even if it’s just with my classmates or professors, but I physically can’t bring myself to. I feel like I’ll suffocate if I even think about opening my mouth because I might end up making myself look stupid.

When Friday morning rolls around, I don’t even want to get out of bed. I’m such an anxious mess that the idea of hauling myself down to the dining hall for breakfast seems impossible.

I lay around until noon when I finally have to force myself up and out of the dorms for my afternoon classes. I’m sure that it’s a pathetic sight to see. I don’t even bother packing up my backpack. I just grab my pencil case and keys and go.

Thankfully, we’re doing figure drawing today, so I don’t have to put any effort into talking with other students, but I realize upon arrival that I left my phone on my dresser. Fucking hell. I would have liked to listen to music, but I guess that’s just how shitty today’s going to be.

I spend the next three hours haphazardly sketching the model they brought in as she changes pose. I can understand why drawing classes would be required for my major, but that doesn’t make me enjoy them anymore. Ugh. I just want this to be over.

The course drags on for what feels like forever and when it’s finally over I pack up my things, rushing out of the building before anyone has the chance to approach me. I make it back to my dorm and lock the door behind me, tossing my keys on the bed. I cross the room and pick my phone up.

There’s a message from an unknown number.

Still on for tonight? it reads.

It’s Cameron.

A flood of relief washes over me.

I type back yes and he responds quickly, telling me to be ready by nine. Cool. I just need to eat something and then get myself together. Should I change? Probably. I’m still wearing the clothes I slept in and I have to at least look somewhat presentable if I’m going out.

I try to do a little homework, but my mind is elsewhere so it’s pretty fruitless. Around dinner time, I head down to the café and buy a wrap since they actually have gluten-free ones today. I should eat something heftier because I know I’ll be drinking, but I don’t feel like it.

After forcing a few bites, I head back to my room and swap my sweatpants for a pair of jeans, but I don’t bother changing out of my sweatshirt. It’s a maroon knit one that belonged to my dad. I know that sounds screwed up because my dad was a total piece of shit, but I wasn’t kidding when I said I had conflicting feelings. I don’t really know how the sweater ended up in my suitcase, but it did and I’m okay with that. Besides, it’s warm and comfortable.

When 8:50 rolls around, I start to wander around my room gathering up things I think I’ll need for the night. I’m really nervous, but also really excited. I can’t believe Cameron actually followed through. I thought for sure he wouldn’t, especially after not hearing from him all week. Now that I think about it, he was probably just busy. He probably had better things to do than try to keep up with me.

It surprises me when right at nine, my phone beeps.

Here, the message states shortly.

Fuck. I wasn’t expecting him to be here exactly at nine. I’m not even really ready yet.

I unlock my phone and add the number to my contacts since I forgot to earlier. Then I take a few minutes picking out my shoes and getting bundled for the cold weather. When I’m finally finished, I stick my phone in my pocket and head downstairs. Out to the parking lot, I spot Cameron’s car with the headlights on.

I approach and as I get closer I see Avery sitting in the front seat. I open the back door and slip inside.

“Hi,” I say, closing the door behind me.

Cameron turns around and hands me a brown paper bag.

“Took you long enough. There you go.”

“What?” I ask, examining the bag. It has the local liquor store’s logo on it.

“It’s gin.”

I put my hand in the bag and pull out the bottle. Jeez, it’s fucking huge.

“Oh… thank you.”

He turns back around quickly and it kind of surprises me.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

“Fine,” he says, sounding impatient as he reverses out of the school parking lot. “I just want to leave and you forever coming out.”

Wow. Alright then. That makes me feel like crap. I didn’t mean to keep him waiting. 

“Jesus Christ, Cam,” Avery cuts in before I can stutter out a meek apology. “Stop being such an asshole to him. There’s no need to be so damn anal.”

“I like to be on time,” he says through clenched teeth.

“Oh my God, it’s just a party. Why do you want to get there so early? Just so you can do some more ‘networking’?”

Cameron makes an irritated noise but doesn’t say anything past that. It’s weird to see them go at each other like this.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble as the silence drags on. “I should have been ready.”

Cameron doesn’t respond and it makes me feel so fucking insecure. I can’t believe I ruined the night this quickly.

Avery looks over her shoulder and back at me.

“It’s fine,” she says reassuringly. “It was only like ten minutes.”

Then she turns back around and swats Cameron on the arm.

“Be nice.”

He shakes her off.

“Don’t hit the driver!”

They keep bickering back and forth until we get to the party. Cameron parks on the side of the road across the street and we head in. It’s loud and there’s music playing, but not really the kind of music you would dance to. No one’s dancing, actually. From what I can see, everyone’s just standing around. I follow Avery and Cameron into the kitchen, where there’s a table set up with a ton of liquor, mixes, and beer. Damn. Cameron really did not have to get me something.

Avery hands me a disposable red cup.

“Make yourself something.”

I pour it stiff because I’m feeling pretty awful right now and don’t want to be sober. Looking quickly around the room, I try to see if there’s anyone here I recognize. Surprise, there isn’t.

Without saying anything, Cameron disappears into the crowd of people, leaving Avery and I standing by the kitchen counter. I stay still for a minute, feeling uncomfortable but wanting to come off nonchalant about the whole thing. It’s not really working. I’m exuding anxiety.

I keep sipping on my drink and eventually give Avery a wary look, trying to figure out how to start up a conversation with her. She notices and looks back at me, pushing out the post on her lip ring the way she does when she’s annoyed.

I don’t know what to say.

God, I just keep staring.

This is so awkward.

Without Cameron here as a buffer there’s literally nothing for us to talk about.

“Stop worrying about it,” she says suddenly.

“Sorry, what?” I stammer.

“That being late thing. Stop worrying about it. Cameron was bugging out over nothing.”

“Oh, uh...still,” I mumble. “I feel like it was justified.”

“Nah. He’s just a tight ass about shit like this. Being on time, deadlines, stuff like that.”

“Fair…”

“Not really,” she says. “There’s a time and place for that kinda shit and it’s not at a party. Besides, he literally just ditched us both, so stop worrying about him. He’ll come back around when he wants to stop being an ass.”

It’s nice that she’s trying to make me feel better, but it’s not really working. I’m not going to feel okay until Cameron brings it up and says it’s okay himself, but I don’t think he’s going to. So, I get to worry until I forget about it, I guess, or something worse comes along.

I suck back my drink and then mix another.

“Slow down, there,” Avery says, smirking. “You’re tiny, and something tells me you’re new to this. You’ll end up on the floor if you keep that up.”

“I’ve been drunk,” I say. “I know my limits.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I insist.

“Well, all right,” she says before pouring herself a cup of what looks like whisky.

“You can’t have this, huh?” she asks. “Cameron mentioned you had celiac.” 

“Well… I might be able to drink it because of the distillation process, but it’s kind of risky either way,” I tell her.

She gives a long nod. “Better safe than sorry.”

I'm pretty surprised Cameron even told her. That means they were talking about me.

"Do you have any...allergies?" I ask Avery in a lame attempt to keep the conversation going.

"Uh, no," she gives me a funny look.

I mentally kick myself. Jesus Christ! What the hell is wrong with me? Who tries to get to know someone with questions like that?

"Oh," I mumble, taking another sip of my drink.

"Rose does though," Avery tacks on a second later. "To strawberries."

She sounds so fucking blasé. Is this how normal people interact? Why the hell can't I be more cool, calm, and collected.

"Oh yeah..." I murmur, "that's kind of like...a common one."

Avery nods, seeming disinterested.

Should I ask her more about Rose? They probably really like each other, right? Avery would probably be happy to talk about her girlfriend.

"How long have you two been together?" I decide to ask, nose down in my glass.

"A long-ass time," she slowly nods. "Coming up on four years here."

Holy shit. I can't even imagine being with someone for that long.

"Oh, wow. That's a long time."

She nods her head.

I wonder if I'll ever find someone like that. On one hand, I want to, but on the other, I don't. When you get to know someone like that, they can use your secrets against you. I've heard so many horror stories...and I don't trust people. I can't trust people. I don't think I've ever had anybody in my life who I've trusted. No one I've willingly told my secrets to. No one has ever given me a reason to. My feelings are all bottled up and it feels a lot safer that way. I don't have to worry about people screwing me over.

"You seeing anyone?" she asks, probably just for the sake of it. She still doesn't seem very interested in this conversation. 

I shake my head.

"I've never been in a relationship."

"Hmm, you do seem a little inexperienced,” she teases. “But that's not bad."

"What? Like a virgin? I mean, I've fucked people," I state stupidly before I can try to censor myself. "I'm not THAT inexperienced."

I lost my virginity young and I don't like being told I don’t know what I’m doing because I do. I've been through more shit than most people will in a lifetime and just because it wasn't all rainbows and sunshine it doesn't mean it doesn't count.

She just laughs. "All right."

“Do I really come off that way?” I ask uncomfortably, hoping that Avery can explain her assumptions better than Cameron did.

“I don’t know, I guess so,” she tells me noncommittally. “Guess I was wrong though.”

I stare back at her, still trying to piece together what exactly about me comes off as so innocent. Avery must have a lot of practice if she feels this way. She seems to think I’m just a stupid, immature kid.

“What about you then?” I say shortly, feeling a little offended.

She takes a sip of her whiskey and raises her eyebrows. “What about me?”

“Are you like, really experienced? Or whatever…You know what I mean.”

Avery lets out a strained laugh. “No!” she cackles, “I mean, not really!”

“Not really?” I ask.

She holds her cup up to her lips and vaguely smiles. She’s wearing an expression that I can’t exactly discern. Is she feeling embarrassed? I seriously can’t tell. Usually, she just looks ready to kill a man.

“Rose is actually my first,” she confesses after a moment.

I try not to look as surprised by that as I am because I don’t want to offend her.

“Oh, cool,” I say.

She probably thinks I’m such a whore now. I should have kept my mouth shut. 

Avery nods and shrugs. “I spent most of high school pining after my best friend who was this super straight girl… so, that was shitty.”

“Aw…” I say, trying to sympathize.

She laughs and shrugs again, “Oh, well.”

She takes a drink and I try to scramble for something else to say.

“At least you have Rose now,” I tell her.

“Yeah,” she agrees with a smile. “Fuck, I love her.”

Jeez. Avery seems really invested in this relationship. Rose must care a lot about her. I can’t even imagine what it would be like to be in either of their shoes.

She finishes what’s left of her drink and sets the cup down on the counter, reaching into her jacket pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

“I’m gonna go outside,” Avery says, taking one out before holding the pack to me. “You want one?”

“Oh, uh, I don’t smoke,” I shake my head. “But I’ll stand with you.”

Avery chuckles, placing the cigarette between her lips.

“Yeah, I’m trying to quit,” she mumbles, “Cameron got me all addicted.”

I refill my drink and then we wander through the house out to the back porch. When we get there, Avery leans against the snowy railing and cups her hand around her lighter so that the flame will last long enough against the wind to get her cigarette lit.