Chapter 4
Best of times give rise to good people. Dark times breed the best ones. Dreadful times take away everything you have, leaving a trail of deafening vacuum and questions with no answers. There’s nothing left to regret. No point in dreaming. All that is left is to lie down and wait.
The party was absolutely insane, as always anyway. Almost everyone we met was drunk and ready to spill their guts right at our feet.
Doors and walls were covered in spray-paint junk. Crumpled up cans, wrappers and other trash were strewn about all over the place. The door to the living room was ripped off the hinges and thrown to the floor like a carpet. There were holes in the walls, a new one being made right before my eyes.
A DJ mixer was on in the living room. The music boomed so loud it felt like my eardrums were about to explode. Everyone was dancing, drinking and playing cards.
Oscar took his hulking arm off the moment he saw his friends. They hollered and gave him a can of beer. He drank it in one swig, crumpled up the empty can in his hand and cheered.
I stood aside, looking at it like it was a rite of passage.
I took a can of beer and tried to look for a spot on the couch, but it was covered in beer stains, so I moved to an armchair.
I took a sip from the can and realized I still hated beer.
Its bitter, yeasty taste made me want to rinse my mouth .
I searched the crowd for any familiar faces. I saw Lea enter the room. I wanted to wave at her, but decided it’d be a bit awkward.
Lea and I were friends our freshman year. She was the first person I met at the university. I don’t know how, but our friendship faded away the sophomore year. We didn’t argue or bicker. We simply drifted apart and stopped hanging out like we used to.
I watched as she walked up to Francis, her boyfriend. She was whispering something in his ear when he placed his right hand on the small of her back, stroking it. She giggled and took his hand. As they were walking out of the room, our eyes met and she smiled at me. I returned it.
I got bored of watching everyone party, so I decided to check the kitchen for my kind of fun.
I pushing my way through gaggles of drunk, gaudy dudes.
One tried hitting on me and I quickly mixed in with the crowd.
As I was walking, I saw a guy lying on the floor, out cold, as his friends stood about and laughed.
And a flock of girls, dancing and yelling the song lyrics out.
A couple fighting, the girl waving her arms furiously while the guy looked at her with an unreadable face.
Some friends drinking on a dare. Another couple making out, more like licking each other’s faces, really.
The kitchen was no different from the rest of the rooms. But the music was quieter here and there were fewer people, which was definitely a plus.
I began rummaging through the top cabinets, looking for some strong liquor. But all I found were boxes of expired food, some dishes and a few other things of little interest to me.
I squatted down in my miniskirt and went on opening the bottom cabinets. I had a hunch someone had hidden their stash around here. And what you find at a party is yours by default.
I opened the cabinet under the sink, pushed an empty bin aside and found a sealed tequila bottle. A smile lit up my face .
I opened the bottle right away and had a few sips. I could feel the liquid blaze from my tongue to my stomach life a flame.
I hid the bottle in my trench coat and decided to go to the back yard. I opened the back door and, to my surprise, discovered a glass greenhouse. It’s just me, a bottle of tequila, the echo of music and nobody else.
Turning my head to the right I saw a round coffee table and a couch. It looked like the greenhouse had been turned into a storage for clutter, piled up haphazardly around the place, collecting dust.
A ripped-up floor lamp stood next to the couch. I placed the bottle on the coffee table, leaned my knee against the couch and reached for the floor lamp.
“You found my bottle.”
I knocked over the lamp, grabbing it before it fell down. Turning back, I saw a blue-eyed guy.
How did I not see him?
He was sitting in an old armchair to my right. The guy looked me up and down. He took a swig from my bottle, still looking me in the eye.
“It’s mine.”
He smirked and handed me the bottle. I took it, sat on the couch and took two sips myself.
He kept swirling a large silver ring on his index finger with his left thumb. Still staring at the ring, he asked,
“What are you doing here, Zoe?”
“How do you know my name?”
“You don’t recognize me, do you?”
He looked up, staring at me sullenly.
I passed him the bottle. He touched my fingers and smirked.
“Freshman year. The roof. At dawn.”
I shook my head and he set the bottle on the table with a thud, taking a seat next to me. He leaned to sit on his right leg, resting his arm on the back of the couch .
“Let’s start all over again, then.”
He offered me his left hand.
“I’m Justin.”
I took his hand.
“Zoe.”
He shook my hand gingerly.
“Nice to meet you, Zoe.”
I realized my smile never once faded throughout this encounter. I felt like an idiot and picked up the bottle to take another sip.
I liked his genuine interest. His stare was so explicitly obvious, it felt blunt and cocky.
Looking into his eyes I noticed how clear they were, no limbal rings, heterochromia or other discolored spots. The deep azure of his eyes reminded me of the lagoon my family and I spend our last summer vacation in.
“In our first year, there was a freshman party, which I did not attend. I woke up early and decided to go for a run. I saw you walking down the alley to our dorms, if you could really call that walking. I wanted to keep running, but then I saw you fall. I ran up and helped you up. You asked me to take you to the roof. The seniors told you it offered a stunning view of the sunrise. I tried talking you out of it, but you wouldn’t listen.
You just kept saying, take me to the roof over and over, it’s like you were hypnotized.
I told you I wasn’t gonna do that, because you were drunk.
At that point you pushed me away and said, Screw you . ”
It all seemed so funny and awkward that I laughed way too loud.
His smile didn’t fade for a second. He put the bottle to his lips and said,
“You have a cute laugh.”
While he was taking another swig, I felt my cheeks turn crimson, like ripe cherries on a tree. And I knew it wasn’t just because of the liquor.
He handed me the bottle .
“I watched you walk, still swaying from side to side. I followed you back to the dorms, but kept my distance. Once you made it, you dropped to the steps and began crawling up the stairs. At one point you turned around and said, Are you gonna keep staring, or will you come over here and help me? I could see nothing’s gonna stop you.
I knew you were going there anyways, or crawling there, really, so I took you to the roof. To my surprise, it was unlocked.”
“And my state wasn’t surprising to you?”
He chuckled. He had a vibrant, balmy laugh.
“At that point, I was already used to it.”
I took a small sip.
“We climbed to the roof. You were standing there, staring at the sunrise without a word for what felt like ten minutes. And then you said, “Why do I feel this soul-crushing sadness while I’m watching a sunrise?”
I took two big gulps.
“You sat down and kept watching the sunrise. I was scared of leaving you there alone, so I decided to join in. We sat in silence, and I didn’t even notice you falling asleep.
I didn’t have a jacket, so I had nothing to cover you with.
I was worried you’d catch a cold, so I decided to run back to my room.
And when I came back, you weren’t there.
I’m gonna be honest, at first I thought you jumped.
And that I was an idiot for leaving you.
I ran up to the edge of the roof and breathed a sigh of relief when I didn’t see you down on the pavement. ”
He smirked, calling memories back to mind.
“What a horrible story,” I said in a hushed whisper.
“Why?”
“I was acting crazy and dragged you into this madness.”
“I was happy to dive in myself.”
His smile was so sincere, I wanted to carve it into my memory for good.
He got up and turned on a dirty, dust-covered heater .
I didn’t even notice my fingers get cold. Alcohol kept me warm, somehow completely avoiding my limbs.
Justin walked up to me, took the bottle and set it on the dusty plastic table made to look like wood. He held his left hand out to me.
I shook my head, but he kept smiling at me.
“It’s just you and me. No need to be shy.”
I took my trench coat off and took his hand.
He led me to the middle of the greenhouse. Wooden floor squeaked under our feet. I placed my right hand on his shoulder. He rested his on my waist. Our eyes were on the same level.
A hip-hop song was playing.
“Wrong music.”
“As long as the person’s right.”
His words breathed life into the dead butterflies in my stomach.
I usually felt awkward, shy and anxious when a person I barely know tried to touch me. Yet, I wanted Justin’s touch to go on, it felt like a walk in an amusement park. My flesh was tingling, begging for more, like a wild, voracious beast finally waking up from a long slumber.
“Do you remember now?”
His voice was alluring, I longed to trust him, to share all my thoughts and emotions.
I remember the sunrise, and I remember meeting him. The next day I had an insane hangover, so I took a sleeping pill and knocked myself out, only waking up late at night. That night, bleeding into the morning, would take a while to fade from my memory.
“I barely remember anything about that party. It’s been three years since then. Why didn’t you come talk to me?”
“You were dating someone. Can’t recall the name, buteveryone knows the guy. This is his party, isn’t it?”
“Then why are you dancing with his girlfriend now?”
“Got tired of waiting for three years. ”
His words pushed an invisible button in my heart, making it race. My lips were quivering so bad. Had I not been biting the lower lip, it would have taken off.
We were swaying to the music without a word, desire to find out everything there is to know about him gnawing at me. I wanted to know it all, from his favorite color to the things he thinks about when thoughts suffocate his mind at night.
“What do you major in?”
“Literature.”
My eyes lit up.
“Do you write poetry?”
He chuckled.
“A bit.”
“What building is your dorms in?”
“Number two.”
“How old are you?”
“23.”
“Will you read me your poems?”
“If you’re gonna be a good girl.”
“I am a good girl.”
I frowned.
“Good girls only dance with their boyfriends.”
“Am I bad then?”
“Very much so.”
My face went beet red at that point. I could feel my cheeks burn, blood rushing in my veins like my body was coming undone.
“Why were you here all alone?”
“Same reason you were.”
“And why was I alone?”
“Because you want to run away from everyone.”
He twirled me around and dipped me softly.
“Do you always blush when talking to guys?”
“I blush from the alcohol.”
He smirked.
“Why aren’t you asking me anything?”
“Because I know the answers.”