I Wish I Were (boyxboy)

4

I walked through the crowd, each step strong and purposeful even as my breathing quickened. I could feel it coming as the blood pounded in my ears and my heart beat faster and faster. I became all too aware of everyone pressing into me, all too aware of every bodily function, all too aware of my whirling stomach. The heat of the room clung to my skin as sweat beads dripped down the back of my neck. I had to get out, before the room and the crowd closed in on me.

I couldn't breathe, the quick short breaths making my head light and my hands shake. I had to get out. I couldn't stand to be in here any longer as my throat and chest constricted. I was choking on the warm air of too many bodies in too small of a space. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't—

There. A door. I surged toward it, shoving my way past the throngs of people. I swung it open and slammed it closed behind me. I barely felt the cool air of the night calming my clammy skin before I sprinted to the edge of the balcony. I planted my hands on the banister before I leaned forward and vomited over the edge. The acid mixed with the drink scalded my throat as everything in my stomach came back up. Alcohol hurt going down, but it wasn't any better coming up. I coughed, but nothing else came up. I always felt better after throwing up, but now my stomach still churned as my mind replayed the scene from the basement over and over again. I tried to control my breathing, tried to slow it down. I told myself to relax, to calm down.

"Charlie?"

I jumped and whirled around. I thought I had been alone, but sitting on the deck wrapped in a sweatshirt with his phone in hand was Sam.

"Hey," I breathed out, trying to control my panting, to not look nearly as embarrassing as I already did, what with me throwing up over a railing. I wiped my mouth with a sleeve even though there was no going back now.

He stood up and slipped his phone into his pocket. "Are you okay?"

I nodded even though my body screamed in protest, heart still pounding, blood still rushing, stomach still whirling. Sam's proximity wasn't helping anything.

"Are you drunk?" he asked, taking a step closer.

My eyes widened as I shook my head. Of course he'd think that. Who else threw up at parties except for really drunk people?

He tilted his head slightly to one side as he went to stand next to me. He leaned against the railing as he looked up at me. "I don't know if I believe you."

I shook my head, not meeting his eye. "I just don't feel good," I mumbled.

Sam nodded, glancing away from me. "Yeah, the patio down there would second that." He laughed.

I followed his gaze to below the railing where I could just barely see the outline of a puddle of my own vomit. My stomach sank with guilt as I imagined Sasha or his dad hosing down the concrete pad, but it was better than in the house or on the balcony.

"So, if you're not drunk but you threw up, does that mean you have the flu or something? Should I not be standing so close to you?" he asked with another laugh.

I knew Sam was just trying to make light of the situation, to make me feel better, but all I wanted was to be left alone, to brew on my own thoughts without someone else messing it up. And besides, I threw up because of my own anxiety, not because of alcohol or the flu. I poisoned myself, and I couldn't just tell Sam that.

"I'm not sick."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "If you're not sick and you're not drunk, they why are you puking? Something doesn't add up."

I sighed, realizing I wouldn't be able to just slide out of Sam's questions, not with his eyes piercing into my soul, begging for the truth. "Look, it's because I don't like crowds and my body reacts by throwing up, I guess."

Sam nodded, eyes shifting back to the distance. "I get it. I don't like parties either. That's why I'm out here in the first place."

Now it was my turn to be confused as I looked at Sam. Sam was well-liked on the basketball team, always invited to parties, always talking to someone. And just today he'd seemed so excited about the party. Had he really been sitting out here the entire time, missing out on the action?

"You don't like parties?" I asked, turning to look at him. Somehow, we'd scooted closer, my face mere inches from his. I could make out every freckle, every imperfection.

He shook his head, turning away from me. "No. It's too crowded and you can only have fun if you drink."

I nodded, knowing he was right. If I'd actually had enough to drink, I probably wouldn't have escaped onto the balcony in the first place. Drinking made me forget, calmed the anxiety boiling within me.

We stood in silence for a while, the only sound the slight buzz of the party happening just feet away from us. The silence combined with the cool night air succeeded at cleansing my senses of the previous events, but it was getting cold. I could see my breath and feel my body beginning to shake. I was about to tell Sam I needed to go back inside when he interrupted my thoughts.

"Charlie, you've gotta be freezing. I'm cold and I'm in a sweatshirt." He let out a laugh, eyes sparkling in the dim lighting.

I nodded, looking down at the ground. The cold had felt nice originally, when I was sweating from the party, but now it was just biting into my skin. As much as I wanted to go back inside, I knew when I did, I would just have to face the very thing that made me come running out here. I'd have to find Georgia, and I already knew she would be among the crowd.

"It's just a little cold," I murmured.

Sam simply shook his head. "I really just don't want you getting sick." He looked at me, mouth twitching up into a half smile. "Lord knows the team needs you."

Now it was my turn to laugh, but when I did, the noise sounded strange in my ears and felt weird on my sore throat.

"You know, if you needed—" But he couldn't finish his statement before he was cut off by the balcony door shutting. I turned around and there was Georgia, already wrapping her arms around herself.

"Charlie, there you are. I was looking all over for you."

I felt Sam's gaze on me as I unfurled myself from the railing and stepped towards her.

"Sorry Georgia," I murmured.

"Oh no, you're fine. I just wanna go home, if that's all right with you?"

"Yeah... Yeah, that's fine."

Georgia smiled and opened the door, stepping back into the house. She held the door open for me and I was about to follow her, but at the last second, I remembered Sam. I turned around. "I'll see you later, Sam."

He smiled slightly and raised his hand in a small wave. "See ya Charlie."