Carrie's POV

"Come on, Carrie!" I hear Jonah yell from the hallway, impatience clear in his tone.

"I'm almost done," I answer from the bathroom where I am finishing putting my hair up in a ponytail. I'm definitely not one of those girls who take hours to get ready, but having to wait even for a few minutes seems to be annoying to Jonah.

I exit the bathroom, slip on black velvet ballet flats, and grab my purse from the bed.

"Okay, I'm ready," I announce standing in front of Jonah who is jigging the car keys in his hand. I'm hoping he'll say something about how nice I look since I'm wearing a new dress, and it's been awhile since we had an occasion to dress up and go out.

"Took you long enough," he says instead, and my smile fades. He doesn't notice.

We get into his BMW and he turns on his music. It's some unfamiliar to me underground UK band, and he sings every word along, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

"Can you map the directions there?" he asks without looking at me.

"Sure," I say, and take out my phone.

"I still can't believe I'm going to your ex-boyfriend's party," he says, shaking his head.

"We dated like five years ago, Jonah. And we've been friends far longer than we were boyfriend and girlfriend."

"Still. I think it's weird that you're still in touch with your exes. I certainly don't talk to any of mine."

"Well, Alex and I get along better as friends than we did when we dated. He's a good friend to me," I say, and shift uncomfortably in my seat. I don't think I need to defend my friendship with Alex. Our breakup was amicable and our friendship has been strong for years.

"I bet if I wanted to meet up with one of my ex-girlfriends you'd throw a tantrum over it," continues Jonah.

"No, I wouldn't. Unless you game me reason to," I say, looking at his profile.

"Did you find the directions?" he changes the subject.

"Yeah, here," I say, and press the button to activate the voice speaker on my phone.

We spend the rest of the drive in silence, working our way through Saturday night traffic in San Francisco. It's nearly ten o'clock when we arrive at Alex's house.

I get out of the car, and straighten my dress, which crawled up my thighs and is now a little wrinkled. It's black and simple, with capped sleeves, and an empire waist.

Jonah locks his car with the click of the automatic key, and heads up the steep stairs without waiting for me. I take my time, walking behind him.

When we ring the doorbell, a pretty blonde woman opens the door, wearing what I think are supposed to be cat ears, and holding a plastic red cup in her hand.

"Hi!" she says overenthusiastically. "Come in, come in," she moves back and gestures for us to enter.

Jonah and I walk in, and we see that the place is packed. This is definitely not some small sophisticated soiree that Jonah would assume is appropriate for our age, we are college graduates after all. This looks more like a frat house rager.

It's only been two months since I graduated from college, but Jonah is four years older than me and is a full fledged adult in all respects. He has a well paying job and a mortgage. I am still trying to get on my feet. Working as an intern at an ad agency in San Francisco I earn barely enough to make the rent for my tiny studio apartment. Jonah likes to act like he's a lot older than his twenty six years, but sometimes I swear he acts just like an old man. So stodgy and somber.

"Are we at the right house?" Jonah says into my ear. I know he's already itching to get out of here. This is totally not his scene. It isn't mine exactly either, but it's been nearly half a year since we were last at a real party. That was New Year's eve, and I'd rather not remember that night anyway.

"Oh, just relax. Be positive, okay?" I look searchingly into his eyes, and he just rolls his.

"Are you guys friends of Alex's or Tiffany's?" asks the cat lady.

"Alex's," I answer.

"Who's Tiffany?" Jonah asks me, and I shrug because I honestly have no idea.

"He's in the kitchen, I think. Go and help yourself to some hors d'oeuvres," says the blonde and disappears down the hallway.

We make our way through the dense crowd. Just going by the appearances, I notice that it's a pretty eclectic group. There are girls dressed up in retro pin up style dresses, with red lips, and flowers in their hair, there's a guy with dreadlocks playing on makeshift drums with two spoons, another guy with a shaved head and tattoos is rolling up a joint, two couples are making out on the couch, their passion on display for everyone to see.

"I feel like I'm in a David Lynch film," whispers Johan into my ear, and I giggle.

"Carrie!" I recognize Alex's voice, and watch him jump off the kitchen counter to come and greet me.

He gives me a tight hug, as a genuine smile spreads across his face.

"So good to see you," he continues, as he releases me.

"Hey," Jonah chimes in, as though to make Alex finally take notice of his presence.

"Oh, hey, Noah, glad you could make it," says Alex, purposefully mispronouncing his name.

"It's Jonah," my boyfriend corrects, and places his arm possessively around my waist.

Alex pats him on the shoulder, a little too hard. "Want a beer?" He's always enjoyed giving Jonah a tough time, but I give Alex a warning glare, and he chuckles rolling his eyes.

"Do you have any wine?" Jonah asks, even though he probably already knows the answer.

"Umm, no. But we do have baby quiches, maybe that'll make up for it," offers Alex.

"Baby quiches?" I repeat.

"Yeah, Tiffany made them. She's a chef," says Alex beaming, and just then a petite brunette approaches him from behind and closes his eyes with her hands.

Alex's smile grows and he reaches behind him and grabs her. She lets go of his face and squeals with delight, as Alex grabs her by the waist and hoists her over his shoulder.

"Put me down, you wanker!" she screams at him, but doesn't fight too hard, clearly enjoying the playful exchange.

I look at them, and I can't ignore the twinge of jealousy squeezing my heart. It's not that I have romantic feelings for Alex, it's for this open display of affection. Jonah and I never play like that. And now that I think about it, outside of actual sex, or marking his territory in front of other men, he barely touches me. I do miss that part of my relationship with Alex. The playful back and forth. The affectionate touches in between.

I sigh, and smile at the laughing brunette in front of me.

"You must be Tiffany," I finally say. Alex puts her down and places his hands on her shoulders.

"I am," she says, a little out of breath.

"I'm Carrie," I introduce myself. "And this is my boyfriend Jonah."

"Nice to meet you," she says. "You two need some drinks!" says Tiffany and before I can stop her she heads for the liquor table.

"So, you're still straight edge as ever?" asks Alex.

"Yeah, pretty much," I say. "I mean, I've had a couple of sips of wine at Jonah's insistence, but nothing hard."

Tiffany returns with two red cups in her hands, and one in her teeth. She hands each of us one, and winks.

"They're whiskey sours. My friend Max is a bartender and he whipped it up special for you," she announces proudly.

"Actually I don't drink," I confess, handing her the cup back apologetically.

"What? Oh, come on, live a little. It's one drink!" she challenges me.

"She won't do it, too uptight," Jonah drones on, taking a sip from his red cup.

I look up into his smug face and tilt back my own cup, taking a big gulp of the alcohol. All of their eyes are wide on me, and I instantly regret my decision as the burning sets my throat on fire. I gag a little, and cough, but swallow the damn thing.

"Whoo! Go Carrie," Tiffany seems ecstatic, as she pumps her fist up in the air.

"Are you okay?" asks Alex, looking into my watery eyes.

"This stuff is kind of disgusting," I say, hoping Tiffany won't think I'm a total square.

"That's because you're not supposed to chug it like lemonade," Jonah admonishes me. "You better give it to someone who can actually appreciate it," he says, reaching for my cup.

I hold it away from him, and continue drinking more, taking smaller sips this time.

"You can't handle real liquor, Carrie. And this drink is way too strong. You'll be drunk in a minute, or worse, throw up. I don't want to have to deal with that mess," whines Jonah.

"Leave her be," Alex interferes. "She's a big girl, she can handle one drink."

Jonah rolls his eyes, and avoids looking at me. Tiffany looks awkwardly at all of us, no doubt feeling a little guilty that her well meaning gesture turned into this unfriendly tension.

"You guys should get some food before it's all gone. The baby quiches are a hit, just like I told you, babe!" she says, placing a quick peck on Alex's cheek. Someone calls her name and Tiffany gladly takes off, probably happy to get away from us.

"Babe?" I repeat Tiffany's affectionate nickname. Alex blushes a bit and rubs the back of his neck turning away his eyes.

"I didn't even know you had a girlfriend," I say, swatting at him. He usually tells me everything. And this is a pretty major omission.

"I know, look. It's been a bit crazy. We literally met last week. Okay? It's not like I've been keeping her a secret from you or anything. It was just so random. We were reaching for the same bunch of radishes at the farmers' market, and we started talking, and before we knew it, we spent the entire day, like all twenty four freakin hours together. I'm seriously crazy for this girl," confesses Alex, his cheeks taking on a rosy hue.

"I am so happy for you," I say and mean it.

"It's always hot in the beginning," Jonah joins in.

"Don't say that," I frown up at him. "Alex is euphoric and you're being..."

"What? I'm just saying enjoy it while it lasts, cause you know eventually it'll be like it always is," says Jonah, pure apathy in his voice.

"I know what you're saying," says Alex, "I mean, I'm a realist, but I'm not a cynic. I also believe in creating your own experiences. I refuse to let our vibrant relationship whither away. At least not without a fight."

For a moment I am horrified. These were the exact words I shared with Alex a couple of weeks ago when I had a particularly bad fight with Jonah. I called Alex and amidst all of my venting I confessed to him that I felt my relationship was withering, dying really. A slow, painful death. The truth is that even though we've been together for over two years, I never felt the kind of high that Alex is describing with Jonah. He was always so practical about things, never passionate or romantic, and I thought that maybe I could ignite or inspire him to do more to be more. But he never changed. Even when I would bring it up, and try to pathetically explain how important it was for me, he'd just roll his eyes, and belittle my needs by calling them unrealistic Disney brainwashing.

I do care about Jonah. I love him, I mean, I love the person he is. He is very smart, and a hard worker, he's ambitious, and honest. Honest to a fault. Sometimes he's so blunt that it can be hurtful, but it's definitely better to be with someone who's up front about things instead of hiding them.

"Don't listen to him," I say to Alex, and take another swig of my whiskey sour. "Enjoy your new relationship and don't worry about the future too much."

"That's the plan," agrees Alex.

"Well, I actually am kind of hungry. Those baby quiches are calling my name," I grab Jonah by the wrist and drag him to the spread on the kitchen counter. I can sense that the alcohol is already taking its effect, making me feel more relaxed, but also strangely energetic.

We fill up little paper plates with quiches, tea sandwiches, and some brownie squares. Jonah doesn't seem to be enjoying any of this, and his sour attitude is beginning to grind on me.

"Just tell me when you're ready," he says in between bites.

"Ready for what?" I ask confused.

"To leave."

"You're joking, right? We just got here," I say, looking at him in disbelief.

"This party is lame, and you know it," he says, tossing the remainder of his uneaten food into the garbage bin.

"You haven't even made an effort to talk to anyone, Jonah. All you're doing is casting judgemental stares at all these people without giving anyone a chance."

"Is this your crowd, Carrie? Really? All of these hipster posers, and pot-heads trying to look cool, and hang on to their youth. It's pathetic. We're not in college anymore. These people need to get a life. Including your Alex."

I toss my now empty red cup into the trash, and glare at my boyfriend. "I've only been out of college for two months, Jonah! And you're so full of yourself, it's unbelievable. You think you're better than these people because you have an office and BMW?"

"I don't think, I know," he says, his steely grey eyes are on mine.

Suddenly I wish I had more alcohol. "I just don't get you sometimes. When did you become so closed minded? So arrogant?" I know this isn't the place to have a full blown fight, but Jonah is being a total dick and I have to call him out on his shit.

"This was a shitty evening to begin with, but now you've ruined it completely. Say bye to your friends cause we're out of here," he says, looking like he's gonna snap any second.

"I ruined YOUR evening? You're the one with an attitude problem," I say, pointing my index finger into his chest.

Some people around us are starting to take notice of our heated exchange.

"You love making scenes, don't you. Well, I won't give you the satisfaction this time. Especially not when you've got liquor on your breath. If you're not down in two minutes, you can find your own way home," he says and without another glance at me, turns around and leaves me. I hear him slam the front door on his way out.

I am too angry to do or say anything at the moment. Even as I sense different eyes looking at me, I feel completely paralyzed, unable to move my feet. I know I should just follow him, but my pride won't let me. I hate how spiteful Jonah can be sometimes. He pretty much just humiliated me in front of all these strangers and took off. And I am supposed to just go after him? No. I won't. Not this time.

"Hey, are you okay?" I hear Alex's sympathetic voice cut through my thoughts.

"Yeah, he's just cranky, I don't really know why. I'm fine, really," I say, trying to downplay how upset I am. But Alex knows better.

"Why don't you go upstairs to my bedroom. I think some time to yourself is what you need. And don't think you have to leave with him if you don't want to. I'll take you home whenever you like."

"Thank you," I say, suddenly feeling like I could cry.

I leave the kitchen and walk up the creaky steps, happy to be out of everyone's sight. Away from people laughing and having a good time. When I reach Alex's bedroom I slowly open the door, walk into the darkness, and without bothering to turn the light on, lie down on the edge of his bed. I stare at the ceiling in pitch dark and finally let out the breath I've been holding. As I exhale, I can feel the tears stinging my eyes, they roll down my temples, and I don't bother wiping them away.