The party was over for me. The dizziness had stopped, and the buzz from the alcohol had turned into anxiety, sadness, and fatigue. It's not like I hadn't tried to keep up with the party; I had made an effort to keep drinking with the football players and my friends, who had turned a few beers into drinking challenges. But my body had decided for me that it was enough. Even my throat refused to swallow willingly. My digestive system had rebelled against me, and now we lived separate lives.

I said goodbye to the people I could. Now I could walk alone and had to take advantage of the opportunity. Over time, some had left, and others had opted for other activities, like joining a massive conga line in the VIP room of the club or sneaking into the lower rooms to fool around with the crowd. All of them, in the subgroup of games at the bar, had promised me several times, very sincerely, that they would say goodbye to the others for me as they appeared, and for that reason, I decided to leave peacefully.

I left the VIP room and headed straight to the cloakroom. I took the jacket with the number on a piece of paper that I had kept in my bra and wrapped myself in that warm faux fur garment, protecting my body numbed by the party from the horrible cold of that January night.

I walked a few meters. The best thing about this club, without a doubt, was its close proximity to a taxi stand. I waited my turn behind a couple of guys who had arrived a few minutes before me, and shortly after, without giving me enough time to rub my arms to regain warmth, a black car with yellow doors stopped in front of me with the sign in green.

"Good night!" I greeted as I got in. The taxi driver responded in the same way, though not too enthusiastically. I couldn't blame him. Nights like that in Barcelona could be exhausting, and although I was now sober, there was no doubt that the man would notice that I had drunk everything I wanted and more. "To Plaça Catalunya, please. From there, I'll guide you."

Without saying another word, the taxi driver released the handbrake just as a blonde whirlwind burst through the door opposite to where I was. I looked at her in bewilderment. The taxi driver observed us through the rearview mirror, checking if the night had become even more difficult for him with a silly argument in his backseat.

"Alexia?" My tone wasn't pleasant. That was clear, but it gave the man enough clues that the woman who had just entered his taxi wasn't just any unknown crazy person. Crazy, yes, but familiar, at least. "Can you tell me what you're doing?"

"Drive, please," she said to the driver, completely ignoring my anger. "To the address she told you."

"To the address she told you?" I scoffed. "You're losing it. Get out of the car right now."

The dark eyes of the taxi driver appeared again in the rearview mirror, catching the attention of the football player.

"Continue," he said without further ado. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the seat, looking out the window without saying a word for a few seconds. How did she always manage to get her way? "There were no more cars at the stand. We'll share this one. It's cold, and I don't want to wait outside."

"Get an Uber, what do I care?"

"I'm not in favor of Uber. They're unfair competition."

"Just what I needed to hear," the driver's dark and accusing eyes appeared again on the glass. "I mean, that's not relevant," his gaze returned to the road, allowing me to breathe.

After that remark from the blonde, I could forget about the driver being on my side to kick her out of the vehicle.

She didn't say anything more. She remained with her arms crossed and a distant look in her eyes, the orange light from the street lamps gliding across her face as the car sped up and slowed down in sync with its rhythm. We were getting closer to my house, and I began to think that she was really here out of a lack of transportation. I decided to lean back against the seat as well.

Although sharing physical space with the football player had always been tense for me, it was usually accompanied by a strange comfort that I couldn't describe. That day was no exception, though the atmosphere was strained and completely broken. If I had to share that long silence with someone, I would have chosen her, even though the environment was tense.

She had her brow furrowed and half her face pressed against the glass, as if looking for the answer to what she had in her mind in the establishments and traffic signs that passed incessantly, one after another, street after street, minute after minute.

"You said that Uber thing as if I were harassing you," she suddenly said, almost ten minutes later, when I had nearly decided to give in to sleep. "And, honestly, all I did was try to talk to you privately. So excuse me, but I see it as quite logical considering that nearly a week ago, we almost slept together, and tonight you've gone out of your way to avoid me in the most disgusting way possible, and you've told me you're getting back together with your ex," then she looked at me. With her brow furrowed and her eyes sparkling. "You know what's going on. If you're planning to get back together with that guy, why are you trying to sleep with me? Then you say you're not playing, that you didn't know. What didn't you know here?" I didn't even know what to say. I was completely blank because she was right. I had been avoiding her as if her attitude wasn't natural, as if she was the demanding and out-of-place one, when, in reality, I was the one being foolish here. "And the silence, of course," Alexia clapped her hands, falling back on the seat again, seemingly tired of herself. I couldn't blame her for resorting to irony after how I treated her. "I really deserve it."

And that was when I started to cry. I was exhausted. The pressure, the confusion, the contradictions... It was all too much for me.

"Not again, Alexia," I tried to contain myself, but it was too late, as I had already caught her attention, and her expression had changed completely. "I need to stop. You've been pressuring me for weeks."

"I'm not pressuring you," her tone changed to a more understanding one, thinking that she might have gone too far. "I just don't understand. The only time I saw you lose all that self-control with me was that time in your therapy session. I thought it was all over, that I had understood you, but this..." She sighed. "If you feel like doing it, why not? We'll see what happens afterward."

"Because it's not that simple!" I hit the back of my hand against my thighs, asking for a break. "Not everything we want in life is possible. The world isn't made for us, nor is life made for us to enjoy. Reality is far from that fairy tale for children. You have no idea how things really work."

"If you want to stay here, it's fifteen thirty."

I looked out the window upon hearing the driver's voice. I hadn't even noticed when we had arrived. I wanted to get out now. I didn't want to wait a single minute longer. Alexia still didn't take her eyes off me, confused and worried. She tended to overanalyze anything I said.

I took out the twenty-dollar bill that I kept in my jacket specifically for this moment and handed it to the man.

"Keep the change."

I grabbed the door handle and stepped onto the sidewalk. The conversation was over; it was like trying to explain to someone who had never experienced hunger that it was the usual for a lot of people in the world. Maybe Alexia could afford to do something foolish, to have a release, and carry on with her life, but I couldn't. I couldn't just move on with my life as if nothing had happened. And not just because of my job.

I closed the door and started walking. It didn't take even thirty seconds for me to start hearing the sneakers of the blonde against the cobblestones of the square. I didn't stop or slow down. I let the football player take a moment to catch up with me, enough time to swallow my tears and prepare not to let the next ones out. I wasn't being fair to her, but she wasn't being fair to me either.

"The one who doesn't know how things really are is you," she retorted once she caught up with me.

"Alexia, I'm fed up," I said, looking her directly in the eyes for the first time that night. "I don't care. I can't risk my whole life for a fling. No matter how much you want it, or how much you try to seduce me knowing I'll fall for it."

The blonde stopped abruptly, wanting me to do the same. However, I kept going, walking quickly, leaving her further and further behind.