Since I’m never talking to him, though, it’s just fantasy.
2
Charlotte
Seventy-three. I stare at the screen, unable to believe that I really did so poorly on the Psych midterm to get a seventy-three percent. Technically, I passed, but getting a low C in a class I assumed would be an easy elective is a punch in the gut. Even though I had missed out on my study time the morning of the exam, I’d still looked over the material in the week leading up to it, thinking I understood most everything that would be covered. What had gone so wrong?
Or rather who. Hot guy. He was the problem. I knew he had distracted me, but this was ridiculous.
“Can you believe what he made me do, Becca?” She must be sick of me complaining about it, but I’m too worked up. I string more cobwebs along the living room curtains as she hangs the last of the decorations for the Halloween party tonight and I continue, “In the grand scheme of things, a seventy-three isn’t the end of the world, but it was a third of our grade and I’ll have to do crazy good on the final now, because that’s another third, to get an A. If it’s even possible.”
“What’s the last third of the class?” Becca asks as she takes a step back and surveys the room. “I think that should do it.”
“It’s little quizzes and a paper we have to write, but that’s not the point.” At the arch of her brow that so clearly says then what is the point, I say, “His hotness is a menace to society and he’s why I got such a terrible grade!”
“Uh huh,” she answers distractedly, still looking around the room. “So what are you going to do about it?”
“Well, I guess I’ll need to study non-stop for the final and put a lot of effort into that paper so I can hopefully get-”.
“No,” she interrupts. “I mean what are you going to do about hot guy? Will you tell him off for distracting you?”
“What?” I ask, baffled. There’s no way I’m actually talking to him.
“Would that require you to speak to him?” she asks with a smirk.
Ugh, she knows me too well. “Exactly. Can’t I just complain about him without making any effort to solve the problem? Is that too much to ask?”
“Sweetie, the way I see it, you’ve gotta put up or shut up,” she tells me matter-of-factly as she moves into the kitchen. She pulls bowls out of the cabinets and fills them with chips, pretzels, and candy. Ooh, peanut m&m’s. I snag the bag and open it for myself. “You can’t have it both ways. You either truly think he’s a problem and tell him so or take responsibility, stop making googly eyes, and focus on what they’re talking about in class and not him.”
“They’re not googly eyes, more like the emoji that has hearts for eyes.” I place the snacks out on the coffee table in the living room, swiping the rest of the m&m’s for my personal stash. “Or do they have an emoji that means hey, I don’t know anything about you but I want your body and also, please stop distracting me and making me suck at school, k thx bye?”
“You should invent that one, I think it’d get a lot of use.”
“It totally would.”
I’VE JUST COME BACK from making a run to the store when Becca barrels into me. After having witnessed her near meltdown because we were out of chips only an hour into the party, I quickly volunteered to take her car and go get more. I hardly know anyone here, they’re all Josh’s friends, so it wasn’t a real hardship for me to duck out.
“Oh God, you’re a lifesaver. I think they were all going to revolt soon.”
Most of the people I spot in the crowded apartment appear well on their way to drunk, and I doubt anybody even noticed the chip bowls are empty, but I indulge her anyway and set the bags down on the kitchen counter.
“No problem, although I did get a few weird looks in this outfit.”
She gives me a once-over and squints her eyes. “Remind me what you’re supposed to be dressed as again?” she asks as she pours more chips into the bowls. “When Josh asked me about it earlier, I couldn’t remember how you put it.”
I point to my chest, where the words Generic Slutty Halloween Costume stretch across my low-cut, v-neck, plain white T-shirt that’s tied beneath my breasts, exposing my stomach. Paired with it is a white miniskirt borrowed from Becca’s closet, white thigh-highs, and high heels. “It’s kind of like a social commentary on the ridiculousness of the women’s Halloween costume industry and how they’ll just make anything slutty. So I’m a generic slutty girl on Halloween.”
I follow Becca out into the living room. “But if you’re slutty, aren’t you still buying into the whole industry idea?” she shouts over the pounding music.
God, it’s loud out here. I might as well be at a club rather than my own apartment with the amount of noise and crowd of people. No wonder Josh’s landlord didn’t want him having any more parties. “Listen, Halloween is my one day of the year to dress like this without judgment. So I’m going to slut it up while I can.” I pause, then add on, “Well, not literally. I’m not sleeping with anyone tonight. But I still want to look good. I’ve managed to keep the freshman fifteen at bay for this long, I need an excuse to show it off,” I say with a flirty smile. “Plus, I either already had all these clothes or borrowed them from you, so it’s not like it cost anything.”
“Well, come show it off back in the kitchen,” she says, spinning around and weaving through the mass of people, strategically placing more snacks on the table surfaces. “You’re doing shots with me.”
I follow her, internally cringing at a guy messing with the knick-knacks on the bookshelf. I really should have put away anything I didn’t want to be broken beforehand. As long as they don’t touch my books, I’ll keep cool. I get itchy just thinking about someone messing them up.
“I can’t drink too many. You know I’m a lightweight and have class early. Tomorrow is Psych again and I need to buckle down if I’m going to get a decent grade.”
“All right, all right, spare me the boring details. Just two for now then.” She sees me waver and exclaims, “Come on, Charlotte! It’s my anniversary. Celebrate with me!” She pulls a bottle and two shot glasses across the counter and starts to pour.
I grudgingly acquiesce and ask, “Fine, but why does it have to be tequila?” I accept the tiny glass she hands me and stare down into it, sure no good can come from drinking this.
“Well, we’re getting low on the other drinks, but this bottle’s almost full. I don’t want to run out of stuff again.”
“I think there’s a reason no one’s touched this. Tequila is awful.” I can already smell the alcohol fumes and my stomach does a slow roll, remembering the last time tequila and I tangoed. It was not my finest hour.
“Buck up buttercup, here we go,” she squeals, tipping the shot glass back into her mouth. I do the same and my eyes immediately water, the burn sliding down my throat and into my stomach. “One more, one more!” she chants as she fills our glasses again and we repeat the process.