Staged (a Clairo fan fiction)

Firsts

We drive across the city through light traffic for a while, and reach our destination around an hour after leaving. Eddie pulls into a parking garage across from the fancy hotel building where the party is. I wonder how much fun a party can really be in someone's hotel room, but I've never lived in a city, and I've never been to a big party, so maybe there's something I don't know.
We walk into the lobby. It's a nice room with old white columns and a gold trim.

"Can I help you?" The women at the front desk asks.
"Yeah actually," Eddie replies, "what floor is Jackson Chase staying on?"
She types something on her keyboard
"You'll be going all the way up sir. He's in our deluxe sweet."
So that's how a party can be fun in a hotel room.
We file into the elevator. Eddie types in Jackson's door code on the key pad, which the women supplied for us after seeing Eddie's name in the system. This Jackson guy either barely invited anybody, or was dedicated to partying enough that he fed each name to the front desk individually. Based on the faint screaming and music I start to pick up as we approach the top, I'm guessing the second option.

The elevator doors open and I immediately recoil when I see what's inside. The suite is wall to wall with people, all drinking alcohol and dancing badly to loud music. The sound of swearing and sex talk fills my ears, and I already think I see some hard drugs. I spot a few people who look mostly sober sitting on couches and talking to each other like normal, but the majority of the guests are drunk and moving about without a care in the world for themselves or anyone else.
"Why would you take us to this kind of party? You said it would be classy." Hayley hisses at Eddie
"Classy is no fun. You guys are boring! Lighten up! Have a drink!" Eddie suggests.
"Ugh." Hayley grumbles as she walks away.
Dijon and honey join the a small group of guys who aren't completely off the walls. Eddie leaves to look for his friend Jackson. Claire had already joined the party the second the doors opened. And I'm still here, just standing alone in front of the elevator.

What do I do? I don't know the proper party etiquette. Though it looks like nobody does. But I've never seen anything like this. What if I do something wrong? What if I make a fool of myself in front of everyone?
The beginnings of a panic attack, or at least extreme nerves, start to settle in. I take a couple deep breaths and try to shoo the feeling away.
Despite being clueless and shaken, I'm able to carry myself to a chair next to one of the couches, and sit down with a group of others that seem to be in the same boat as me.
"Dragged here by your friends?" A guy asks.
I nod. They all sigh in agreement.
The group continues with their conversation while I sink into my chair, trying to disappear.
Without much else to do, I watch the other attendants drunkenly stumble around. It's mildly entertaining at least. I begin to zone out and get lost in my thoughts. A good amount of time passes by like this before I hear a voice call my name.

"Eve!"
I sit up and look for the source. It's Claire, and I can immediately tell she has joined the strongly inebriated.
"Come get a drink with me, that would be fun, I miss you a lot, yeah come here." She slurs and takes another swig from her cup as she tried to walk over to me, tripping and stumbling over her own feet.
"Okay, the last thing we're gonna do is get another drink. How about we put this down." I push the cup in her hand down to the table.
"Aww, but I'm soooo thirsty!" She complains
"Well water can fix that. Come on."

I lead her to the kitchen and she immediately throws up in the garbage can. Her hair falls into her face, so I pull it back and grab her hand while she empties her stomach. She's shaking and heaving. I squeeze her hand tighter.

Once she comes up, I make sure she is able to stand by herself with the counter. Then, I take a glass out of a cabinet and turn on the sink to fill it with water.
"Drink." I command
"I don't wanna!"
"Please?"
She rolls her eyes dramatically, but takes a small sip. I stand with her while she slowly empties the glass.
I don't really know what more to do. Is a drunk person supposed to sleep? Should she take something? Could fresh air help?
I decide that based on my options, fresh air is the most tame. The worst that can happen is it doesn't do anything.
I put my arm around her waist and help her across the penthouse and up the stairs, at the top of which is a door to the roof. We step outside. It's a little bit cool out and there's a faint breeze. I deeply inhale the night air. This was definitely a good idea.

Claire walks over to the side and leans herself on the railing. I put a hand on her shoulder just in case she's too intoxicated to steady herself. We stand with the air blowing in our faces, staring at the buildings around us and the unusually clear sky.
"It's so pretty out tonight." She whispers as she traces the shapes of buildings in the distance with her pointer finger. She seems a little more lucid now.
"Yeah it's really pretty." I reply, following her hand movements with my eyes
"Yeah," she sighs,
"But do you know what's prettier?" Her tracing hand freezes and she turns to face me, inching her body closer to mine.
"What?"
She puts her hand on the side of my face and once again starts to trace the shapes of buildings from the skyline on my skin.
"You."
Without a second of warning, her arms wrap around me and I am pulled deeply into a kiss.