It was the third drink. That bitter taste that invited the throat to close slightly, preventing the liquid from passing through the esophagus, that warmth in the chest and the tingling in the stomach. All those sensations had long passed.

I could feel my face going numb. My mouth and nose felt as if they were asleep. Blurry vision, weak laughter, and deep breaths.

Marc raised his glass, clinking it against mine and winking at me. I felt really strange.

"I think I'm a little drunk," I informed him without any reason.

Marc laughed heartily.

"I know. You're putting on your drunk face."

"Do I have a drunk face?"

"And a hungry face, a sleepy face, a longing-to-go-home face... It's easy to read your thoughts when you know someone well," his innocent comment felt heavier in the air, as it sounded much more significant when spoken out loud. It was easy if he knew me well, and he did know me well. Perhaps better than anyone else. "You feel strange because I'm here with you like this, talking to you as if nothing happened, right?"

Diana.

"How did you know I was here? You never go out in this area."

Marc smiled half-heartedly and pressed his lips together.

"You posted a story on Instagram, and I'm tired of seeing you with this backdrop in your photos," he said, referring to the club's decor.

"And you dropped by?"

He scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably and took another sip before responding.

"I miss you a bit. Talking to you, knowing that you're okay... My mom keeps asking about you."

I smiled sadly upon hearing that.

"How is she?"

"She's fine. She's taking some courses at the town hall with some friends now. She keeps busy."

"That's good."

Marc nodded, and we looked at each other for a few seconds.

"But hey, today is not the day to get melancholic," he grabbed my shoulder and turned me around. My body collided with his, hip to hip. The gesture didn't go unnoticed by me. "Raquel has been calling you for a while," he pointed to the girl with black hair signaling us. "You should go and have a good time; it's your birthday. We can talk later."

His arms let go of me, and suddenly I felt cold all over. I took another sip of my drink and took an unsteady step toward my friend.

"Hi," Alexia's voice surprised me from the right. "Can we talk for a moment?"

"I'm not sure if it's the best idea."

Alexia furrowed her brow, ready to reply when we were interrupted by another reason why I felt overwhelmed that night.

"Excuse me," the blonde looked the guy up and down with suspicion. "Do you mind if I ask you for a photo?"

The football player looked at me confusedly, then turned his gaze back to Marc. She faked a smile, a very poorly faked one.

"Sure."

I crossed my arms, feeling uncomfortable as my ex took out his phone and draped an arm over Alexia's shoulders, who squirmed under his touch. I saw Raquel again, her expression mirroring mine. I decided to take advantage of the situation to distance myself from both of them and catch my breath.

I moved a few meters between a few shoulders, clumsily avoiding the splashes from the moving glass cups to the beat of the music.

"Hey, girl!" Raquel hugged me. Then she looked at me with some concern. "Is everything okay? Marc and Alexia?"

I shrugged and sighed.

"I still can't place Marc here," I took another sip of the drink; my throat was getting dry, and the dizziness was fading away. I wanted to be as far away from reality as possible. "He came to tell me that he misses me and some other stuff, and Alexia wants to talk to me."

As Raquel processed the information, Miguel appeared on one side.

"What's going on here?"

"Things got heated," the black-haired girl replied.

I turned around as Raquel delved into the context that my friend needed. Alexia was taking at least her third photo with Marc while she searched for me with her eyes every time he checked if the picture was good enough to share on social media.

"Are you okay?" Miguel's hand brought me back to the conversation.

"Yes," I shook my head, trying to gather myself. "I think I just need some space."

"Do you want me to accompany you?" Raquel offered.

"No, don't worry."

I turned around and drank what was left in the glass before placing it on the bar. The dizziness was starting to come back. I was glad.

I weaved through the crowd again, trying to reach the bathroom door. I grabbed the large metal handle and pulled it forcefully.

A long room filled with doors opened before me. Near the sinks, at the end of the room, several girls were talking animatedly; I could barely see them clearly. One of them seemed to be crying. I couldn't hear them either; the music was too loud, and I was too far away.

I wanted to splash water on my face. Maybe that would be enough to rid my mind of all the worries that had settled in. But seeing so many girls having fun or perhaps consoling one another, or two, maybe they weren't so many, or maybe they were, I didn't feel like approaching. I wanted a safe place, away from everyone. A place where I could breathe and focus.

I turned to my left and pushed open the door of one of the empty stalls just as I sensed someone behind me. I had just enough time to identify Alexia before the blonde closed the door behind us.

She silently observed me, her face serious, examining every inch of my expression, and spoke abruptly.

"You're very drunk."

"What do you want, Alexia?" I asked desperately, the words felt stuck in my mouth, speaking felt exhausting.

I tried to push her away from the door. She didn't move.

"You have your drunk face," I furrowed my brow upon hearing those exact words. Exactly those words. "Are you okay?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Yes," I spat out.

She silently looked at me for a few seconds, but she didn't move from my path. She didn't take her eyes off me; she bit the inside of her cheek. She seemed to be contemplating something. I swallowed.

"Are you going back to him?"

The question caught me by surprise. I needed to rest my head, find a cool surface. My eyes felt heavy.

"Well, I don't know, maybe."

The significance of what I had said was evident in Alexia's eyes, visibly widening. Her brow relaxed, and in contrast, her body tensed.

"Maybe?" she repeated, incredulous.

Her reaction was enough to let me leave the stall, stumbling, without her doing anything to stop me. I needed to clear my head for real; I needed to lose consciousness.