The entire room was throbbing- the loud music, the floor, the walls or perhaps my heart and head was throbbing so erratically that I couldn't make sense about the room. All I could think about was Vincent David Coehlo. Vincy, Vincy, Vincy, Vincy. If only he knew how I called for him desperately in my head, wanting him to throw one glance at me. But no! His eyes were focused on the glistening glass of champagne, the golden liquid swirling like the gentle ripples of the lake gleaming with sunlight. All of us had gone to the lake today morning, a picnic arranged by our company which was ruined with loud, crazy games and ended with a man underestimating the depth of the lake and nearly drowning in it.

That man who Vincent had saved looked at me from across the dancing floor and waved enthusiastically. Who was he? Juan? Carlos? Some sort of common Spanish name. To not be rude, I wiggled my little fingers and flashed the "I'm out of your league and would never sleep with you" smile. That smiled fascinated him more because I could see his lustful, heart-broken gaze, the gaze of a boy who would never attain the latest toy that he desired. But he knew Vincent, I had seen them conversing frequently in the office. What Vincent saw in that fool to be friends with him, I could never guess. Vincent was always kind and caring like that.

I gulped down a shot, preparing myself for another one nightstand. One Indian man in this party had been interesting enough and I intuitively knew that he was going to approach me in a minute or so. I have had three one night stands so far in this one week of office trip in Canada, more than I ever had in my twenty-four years of life. Maybe one of these men could help me forget Vincent. Oh, Vincy.

"Hey, do you want to dance?" I heard a playful voice and it unsurprisingly belonged to the Indian guy. God, my Ralph Lauren dress was indeed working its magic. First, I acted as if I was caught off-guard, placing the glass down and then giving him my full attention. Because of the time I took, he repeated his question, a bit nervously this time. Instantly, I broke into a cordial smile, propped my elbows on the round table and leaned closer to him.

"Why don't we go to my room? There's pizza and tv . . ." The lightness in my voice compensated for the insinuation and I knew that the words "pizza and tv" and my soft bangs made me come across as the innocent girl trying hard to rebel. I had used this on my first one night stand of this trip and it did work. Judging from the sudden flush of his light brown skin, I was sure that the alcohol didn't intoxicate him, it was me.

I led him to my room, whispering charming little things so he could be deeply drunk in my love and fumbled with the straps of my dress.

* * *

José shockingly watched the love of his life slip away with an Indian man and took a swig of his drink, to drown the lump in his throat. "For a second when she waved at me, I thought she loved me too."

"What's so good about her anyway?" asked Vincent who judged her to be a cold, calculating woman.

"Have you seen her, Vincy? She's a Goddess. And I have heard her in the office, she always knows to say the right things at the right time. She's so beautiful that I could die for her. Like if this glass was full of poison and if she asked me to---"

"Hold on, big guy. Enough dying for today."

"Exactly!" José said explosively, drawing weird looks from the people around him. "I jumped in the lake today so she could see me, you know what I mean? Now she knows who I am, the guy who jumped in the lake---"

"And nearly died."

"---and that's why she waved at me. She knows me now," he continued helplessly, avoiding Vincent's hard, steady stare. "Anyway, it's not like I died. You saved me. You got to be a hero. Look, all the girls have their eyes on you." When Vincent shrugged, José put his heavy arm around his shoulder as if the weight of him physically could influence his mind. "You privileged, stupid bastard. With so many girls wanting you, you choose to be here drinking with a loser? You amaze me, you truly do."

* * *

That was because Vincent was in love with the loser whose arm around his shoulder spread comforting warmth in his body. "I don't like any of them," he murmured to himself, swirling the champagne and seeing golden stars sparkling. Those stars should have been shining in José's eyes, he hated seeing him so dejected especially over a common girl. He shrugged his arm off, saying bitterly, "You didn't have to jump in the lake for that girl."

José winked at him, making Vincent swell with uneasy ecstasy. "We need to take some risks in life, what's the harm in trying?"

"You could basically die." He sighed in frustration, unable to make this goofball of a man that he loved to understand. Perhaps, he loved him precisely because of his naivety and the lengths that he could reach (or drown) for the people that he loved. Those were refreshing, rare qualities because people these days seemed to be aware of everyone's motives and were inconsiderate even to the people they loved.

José replaced Vincent's glass of champagne with a stronger, pungent drink that he himself didn't know the name of. Raising his glass of the same liquor, he exclaimed, "Let's get wasted today, hero!" And both of them grimaced as they swallowed the liquid (Vincent with reluctance), the tears of their unsatiated desires flushing down their throats and disappearing into the dead drains of their stomachs. They drank one glass after another as if they were popping in peanuts with José never failing to yell, "Cheers! To lost loves!"

The bartender had to ultimately intervene before the blurry mass of people around them conglomerated into one abyss and engulfed them both. Both of them stumbled into Vincent's room, unable to switch on lights or lock the door. José collapsed on Vincent's bed and Vincent stooped down to undo the straps of his friend's shoes . . . José's fingers quickly began working on the buttons of Vincent's shirt, popping them open one by one. Though in a muddled state of mind, Vincent could feel his heart beating loudly with every button being popped open and José swiftly took off his own shirt, urgently capturing Vincent's lips in his own and tumbling with him on the bed.

* * *

I tried to see through my tears, blinking them away only to make room for more as I roamed in the corridor like an apparition, halting in front of Vincent's room. The straps of my dress were still untied and I was holding the loose fabric to my chest, staring bleakly at the wooden door. If only Vincent loved me then I wouldn't have to go through these awful one night stands where I got dumped in the end. Without so much as a touch, a kiss, a caress. Who knew that he was Pakistani and not Indian? He had gotten furious at me and growled like a tiger when I had made that assumption and justified it by saying that all of their countries were the same anyway. Weren't they?

It was past midnight and I couldn't think properly, but it didn't matter, I had to tell Vincent how much I loved him or else I could never fall asleep. I was lonely, horny and I couldn't add sleep-deprived to that list, it didn't rhyme. I started towards the door and instinctively twisted the doorknob. To my bewilderment, he hadn't locked the door. I stepped in and heard someone groan "Vincy." My Vincy's name. I instantly switched on the lights and a scream escaped my lips at the mortifying sight in front of me, two naked men entangled, my Vincy and that Spanish fool! My loose dress fell to my ankles and I stood in front of them, as astonishingly naked as the day I was born.

Both of the men stirred in their sleep, but it was the fool who opened his eyes first. "Jesus!" The fool's red eyes widened at me, resembling a true demon's who had debauched my Vincy. His eyes scrutinized the wild mess around him, taking in the bare length of Vincent with devastating slowness. Vincent groggily sat up, his eyes meeting that of the fool's and he stilled like a sculpted statue. The demon-fool tore away his gaze, scrambled up and vociferated, "This is not what it looks like! It was a mistake! I don't love him! I love you!"

I thought that I was sobbing, but I felt no tears choke my throat and the chilling whimpers that filled the room belonged to my Vincy. "Oh, Vincy, I love you!"

I rushed to hug his trembling body, weeping for the mistakes of tonight when the demon-fool intervened confusingly, "W-What? You love him?"

"I don't love her! I love you!" cried out my Vincy and my eyes darted towards the demon-fool to whom he pointed. What on earth . . . ?

"W-What? You love him!" I shouted with no ability to control myself, a shrill echo which made all three of us shiver in our nakedness. "This is a madhouse! I'm getting out of here! I'm getting the hell out of here!" I dragged my silk dress after me, pressing it against my breasts and exiting the room. "Everyone is drunk! We're drunk, the Gods are drunk! We're all trapped in a dream! An illusion! A nightmare!"

I heard the fool's desperate plea, "Wait! I'm coming to you! I love you, I love only you!"

"Stop following me! I don't like you one bit!" I hurried down the corridor, feeling the cold air slap against my bare bum, a wake-up call.

"Please don't say that! I love you! I was so heart-broken when you went off with that Indian guy!"

"He was Pakistani!" I yelled, violently throwing the Ralph Lauren dress at him and clutching my breasts, I sprinted to my room.

* * *

Next day . . . It was a strange summer morning, the air thick with humidity and tension. All three of them had been called by their manager on account of the hotel which reported them for their nudity (as captured in a melodramatic scene by the CCTV cameras. First the naked woman, then two naked men after her). Those naked people now fully-clothed in layers of clothes to hide the shame in their hearts stood in the lobby, sweating profusely. None of them dared to raise their eyes up or utter a word.

The manager uncomfortably fiddled with his thumbs and sighed. "Let's just all put this in our past like one bad dream and focus on what we came here for. Business."

The three of them nodded in agreement for indeed, it felt like a badsummer night's dream.

* * *

A/N :

This short story was inspired by Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's dream.