While Amy and Sarah got ready upstairs, I sat on the couch and scrolled through my YouTube feed.

I felt weird wandering around the place. Not that I thought Amy would have minded, but I felt extremely out of place here. Like an intruder that had snuck inside.

I looked up to the sound of footsteps padding over. Maria strolled through the living room, downing a glass of something.

I watched her, the calm sorrow on her face intriguing. "Are you..." I started. "Are you okay?" Maria terrified me. She was tall - a lot taller than me - and looked like she could beat up someone twice my size. "You look upset."

She set her empty glass on the floor by her bare feet. "I don't know. I just... don't know if this is my crowd, you know? I'm used to barbeques and dirtbikes, not..." She made an overdone smile and imitated the girls' excited chatter.

"Oh, I get that, believe me." I drew my legs up onto the couch cushion and crossed them over each other. "Are you from around here?"

"In state. A couple towns away. It's more rural. Hence the dirtbikes and, well, dirt. Why, you can't be a local?" She raised her eyebrows teasingly.

I grimaced. "Hell no. And people seem really weird around here." Kitty and Michael in particular, but I didn't name them. Maria twitched the corner of her lips and nodded slowly. "So what's Amy's deal?" I asked. "Is she, like, Regina George or something?"

She snickered. "How do you know who Regina George is?"

"Sarah and I alternated picking movies to watch every weekend. Hers were all, entirely, chick flicks."

Maria sipped her drink. "Do you... like her? Because, take it from me, being friend-zoned is the most painful thing a human can experience."

"I don't like her," I said quickly. "I mean, she's just a friend. We grew up together. But she's not my type at all."

Maria narrowed her eyebrows a little but said nothing.

Before I could lose my confidence, I smiled wide and sat up a little. "I-I guess I'd like someone more like you," I said. "You're chill."

She gave a sharp laugh. "You like lesbians."

My face bloomed with heat. "Oh," I said. Already a wave of sweat was forming at my hairline. "I didn't know..."

She smiled. "It's cool."

Before I could embarrass myself further, a chorus of high-pitched laughter signaled Amy and Sarah's descent down the stairs. Sarah was now sporting huge gold hoops and her lips were a deep red. Strands of her blue hair kept getting stuck against them.

"Guys, why are you just sitting around?" she cried, her mouth stretched wide in offense. "Get up, people are getting here!"

My gaze flicked out the window to the Chevy Cruze pulling up. "That's literally one person."

Amy ran a hand through her hair, fluffing it up. "It's Alicia. You remember, your match made in heaven?" She looked at Maria, or rather the bottle in her hand. "Pass me, I gotta be buzzed before we do this thing."

Sarah flashed me a look of excitement and bounced on her toes.

Maria pushed herself up to her feet. "I'm going in the kitchen," she said. "I plan on being a lot more than buzzed."

"Same," I muttered. Sarah was frowning, her forehead crinkled like she was nervous, and she relaxed a little as I walked over to her. "Hey, save a dance for me tonight," I said.

She wrapped her arms around me briefly. "Sure will," she promised. "C'mon, let's go in the kitchen." We followed Maria's path, where she was now making a line of clear shots, and each grabbed one.

I heard the clicking of high heels and looked up to see Amy, accompanied by another girl. Alicia. "Hey," she said. She was also tall, or maybe that was just the stilettos she had on. Her straightened black hair was pulled back into a high ponytail that brushed her bare shoulder, where an unzipped gray sweatshirt hung loosely. She smiled at the group of us, her white teeth shining, her brown eyes warm behind her long dark eyelashes.

She was beyond beautiful.

"Oh my god. You look like an Instagram model." Sarah was star-struck.

Alicia smiled and brushed her hair back, her white nails complimenting her dark brown skin. "Aw, thank you."

Maria's eyes hardened. I looked over at her and saw her eyes glued to Alicia's body the way mine had just been moments ago. Is she- oh, I thought.

Sarah placed her hand on my chest and patted it. "I've been telling Ben here to get Instagram for years. Do you have any idea the number of girls that would slide in his DM's at one picture? But no," she sighed. "He's such an old man with social media."

I was too busy watching Alicia and Maria staring at each other, a fire burning in their shared gaze. "Sarah, stop it, would you?" I snapped. I could hear the doorbell ring in the background.

For the next thirty minutes, Amy's guests began filtering into the living room.

A tall, skinny guy with an odd goatee and mullet, wearing a T-shirt with the outline of a rifle on the back and some slogan I didn't care to read. A curvy girl with shoulder-length hair. Bright-eyed. Pretty. A girl with freckles and strawberry blonde beach waves. A few boring jocks without any distinct features.

I hid in the kitchen with Maria. She lit a cigarette, dangling between her fingers, and sat on the counter under a cloud of smoke. Despite her ambiguous opinion of me, she seemed the most similar to me out of all the people here. I tossed a few pleasantries around in my mind, debating whether to talk to her, and then decided to go for it.

"Listen, I get it," I said quietly. She regarded me with half-closed eyes. "I won't try anything with Alicia. I mean, you like her, right? Does she like you?"

Maria spun her cigarette around her knuckles, a sad smirk flickering on her lips. "Only at night, it seems."

"Maybe give her some time. Maybe she'll be more comfortable... uh..."

She nodded, but said nothing, and I figured I was just annoying her. What did I know anyway? I went into the living room where I figured Sarah would be, but it was crowded by a large group of disturbing-looking people, all drinking. I was starting to get a bit tipsy myself from the shots I'd had before.

I spotted Amy surrounded by a number of guys and joined the circle. "Hey, c'mere," she said, handing me a plastic red cup. Yup, definitely filled with some alcohol mix. "We drink until we can't. Last man standing wins." I definitely wasn't going to be anywhere near that man, but I accepted it and drank. "Hey!" Amy yelled out to someone I couldn't see. "Change the music in here!"

Everyone drank. After a few cups, I was out. A queasy wormed through my gut. I still had to drive tonight, and on top of that, I needed to look out for Sarah, whose naivety radiated from her like a thick perfume.

I suddenly realized how badly I had to pee. I pushed my way past the beer pong game and took the stairs two at a time. The bathroom was nice, white walls and marble counter, a huge bathtub with a silver faucet. Robbers would love it.

I had just flushed the toilet, my jeans still unzipped, when the door swung open and a girl stumbled in. The door smashed against the wall and swung back again. "Um, excuse me-" I began before she collapsed in front of me and vomited into the toilet.

I flinched. Flashes of my father, drunk, puking everywhere, entered my mind before I could push them away. Someone else peered anxiously into the bathroom. The pretty girl with short hair. "Liv, you okay?"

Liv gave a thumbs-up from the floor and lowered her head.

"Sorry about that." The girl flushed red as I silently began washing my hands. "I guess better the toilet than all over the carpet, right?" She winced at her own joke. "Sorry. I'm Lydia."

"Ben." I pumped more soap into my hands, though I had already washed them.

Lydia watched me look around for a towel, come up short, then dry my hands on my T-shirt. "Nice to meet you."

I grimaced at the sound of Liv throwing up again. "Nice to meet you. Sorry, I'm kind of in a rush. I'm looking for my friend."

"Well, don't let me keep you." Lydia smiled modestly as I passed her in the doorway and headed for the stairs. "Um, Ben?"

I looked back. "Yeah?"

"Your, um-" She tilted her head, still blushing, and motioned to the zipper on her jean shorts. I looked down. With a spike of embarrassment, I realized my fly was still down.

"Shit." I hurried to fix it, hands clumsy. "Thank you." I couldn't tell which one of us was more embarrassed. I'm such a fucking idiot.

"So who's your friend?" Lydia asked as we descended back into the cave of smoke and early 2000s music. Everyone had seemingly partnered up - I saw Amy and one of the jocks, Mullet-Rifle-Guy and a brunette politely backing away as he talked and waved his plastic cup around.

"Sarah," I yelled over the music. "Blue hair. Probably very drunk. You'll know her when you see her."

The first time Sarah and I drank together, we were thirteen. We had no trouble getting our hands on alcohol - my dad kept a boastful supply on a three-tier cart in our kitchen. After one mouthful of gin, I made a face and quit, but Sarah kept going, drinking until she was dancing around my apartment and laughing about how adult we were.

"What?" Lydia shouted. I tried repeating myself, but she pointed to her ear and shook her head. I ducked into a small den off the living room, filled with old bookshelves of paperbacks and a row of men's leather shoes. An ancient monitor beeped at us.

Amy's father's office, perhaps. I tried to imagine having a father who had an office.

"It's super loud out there," Lydia was saying. "Pretty hard to hear. What did you say?"

I didn't respond, distracted by the image of Amy's hypothetical father. He seemed like the lawyer type. Maybe someone in finance? A teacher? I scanned the book spines for any titles I recognized. One read American Jurisprudence.

Dust and wood. That was what Amy's lawyer dad's office smelled like. When he came home, he would kick off his shoes beneath the desk, force that old monitor to life, maybe review his case notes. I imagined him with gray hair. Glasses. Clean shaven.

"Ben?" Lydia asked. "You okay?"

"Um," I said. "I drank a lot."

A little laugh bubbled from her lips. "It's okay. I did too. So, your friend... is he... she... around?"

"She," I answered, and judging by Lydia's quick nod I sensed I was communicating something I hadn't intended to. "If you could help me look for her, I'd really appreciate it. I'm a little worried. I was supposed to stay with her."

"Yeah, sure, of course," Lydia offered, voice a little high. Outside, the roar of the music swallowed us as I pushed through the crowd to the beer pong table. Another girl (platinum highlights, flannel tied around her waist) was yelling and jabbing her fingers at Rifle-Mullet. "I know that guy. He was in my first class. The asshole started arguing free speech with the professor."

"Christ," I muttered. I needed to find Sarah and call it a night. My head was swimming in alcohol, the shots and numerous cups of beer mixing in my system. I made my way to the kitchen, searching for her vibrant hair.

Inside, I saw only two people, tangled around each other against the counter. Dark hands weaving through red hair.

I froze. Alicia's face emerged, lipstick smudged. Then Maria turned around with a dazed look of confusion. I backed up, flashed them two cheeky thumbs-ups, and left the room.

On my way out I bumped into Lydia, and quickly steered her around and walked with her down the hallway. "She's not there," I told her.

"Maybe she went home with somebody," Lydia suggested.

It was then that I heard a shriek of laughter and turned to see Sarah barrelling down the hallway, her makeup smeared all over her face. "OH MY GOD!" she screamed, throwing her arms around me and jumping up and down. "I just made out with someone!" She burst into another fit of laughter.

I cringed and shook her off. "Cool. But we really need to get going. I have class tomorrow."

"He was so hot!" she shouted.

"Where is he now?" Lydia asked.

"I don't know!" Sarah doubled over laughing, lost her balance, and toppled into my arms. "I'll never see him again and I love it!"

"I'll get Liv. You're gonna need more help getting her home." Lydia pushed back into the crowd and I was left alone with Sarah, who babbled incoherently into my shoulder.

"When are we going to dance?" she asked me.

"We're dancing right now, can't you tell?"

She laughed. "No, we're not, stupid."

Lydia reappeared in the hallway, a less green-looking Liv by her side. "Is her room in Roosevelt? That's where we live. I'm sure we can manage to get her up the stairs."

"I don't know..." I hadn't paid attention to the name of Sarah's building. "Her roommate's Maria... the redhead. I don't-"

Lydia stopped me. "I know Maria! She was Amy's roommate last year. I've been to her room dozens of times. We can take her home, don't worry."

I suddenly felt like owing her every last cent of my non-existent earnings. "Yes," I whispered. "Thank You. Thank you, Lydia. Thank God."

"Woo-hoo!" Sarah yelled as Lydia and I hauled her to her feet. "Where we goin' now? More part-tee!"

"Not tonight, sister," Lydia replied under her breath. She wrapped one of Sarah's arms over her shoulder and I did the same with the other.

The night air, still warm in early September, was a welcome escape from the smoke and smell of puke that permeated the air inside. "Where am I?" Sarah slurred as we loaded her into the backseat of Lydia's car.

"A really nice place," I told her. "Called bed. Oh my god. I can't wait to get there myself. You're lucky, Sarah."

"I know, right? I'm a lucky bitch. I'm a fabulous, lucky, beautiful-"

I slammed the car door before she could finish and looked at Lydia. "Don't mind her. She doesn't, uh... do this much."

Lydia smiled warmly. "It's fine. Always happy to take care of a fellow girly."

I cleared my throat and nodded. "Great. Listen... I'm sorry if I've been a dick. You're really, really nice, Lydia. I feel like I should... I don't know, do something-"

"It's okay," she assured me. "I get it." She was gesturing to me, then Sarah, nodding. "You two, I understand. You're really nice too."

I bit back a sigh of frustration. It seemed everyone understood the situation with Sarah more than I did.

"Good luck with everything. I hope it works out," Lydia said before I headed back to the Impala. "We'll take it from here."

"Yeah. Thanks again. Good night." We exchanged a little wave before I trudged down to the end of Amy's driveway, hoping the fresh air would sober me up before the drive. It didn't.

Still plenty drunk, I drove five miles an hour back to campus, my knuckles wrapped around the wheel for dear life.

It was hard to see, because of the darkness and also my drunkness, and I turned the corner sloppily, eager to be done with this stupid, horrible first day. Perhaps it was my fault, then, that I didn't look up in time to see the mass of black aluminum backing up out of my spot.

Perhaps it wasn't, because even when I beeped the horn the car didn't stop.

It just lurched back even farther and slammed itself directly into my Impala.