Slate | ✓

SEVEN | ATHENA

Throbbing bass lines reverberate throughout every tissue of my chest, massaging my heart along to the pounding music. The space is surging with people, waves of movement and overlapping voices roll through the crowd, many bodies with cups and cans in hand, protectively cradling, spilling, lifting, drinking. Couples and groups dance on each other, further compounding the limited space. The invasive smell of sweat and alcohol hits me.

As if she were waiting for me, I catch sight of Ella immediately, her stark brown gaze already cast down on me. She's perched on the staircase landing, nursing a wine cooler, as some guy I don't recognize sits flush against her, one of her legs curled over his as she allows his hand to rest on her thigh. Ella doesn't look surprised to see me, which somehow makes me both mad and sad at the same time. Her eyes are supplemented by neon colour, and I have the urge to ask her which makeup tutorial she watched. The guy she's sitting with doesn't notice her attention's been diverted.

"Yoooo, Athena!" A deep, booming voice calls out. Broad shoulders and curly blond hair take up my periphery. I'm swept up into a drunken bear hug, my feet lifting off the ground.

I pound on his muscular back with the side of my fist. "Put me down, you dick!" I yell in his ear.

To my relief, he complies, spilling some of his drink on my shoes as he does so, wide dark eyes staring at me. "Bro, I haven't seen you in forever."

Dante Cusack is an asshole. It's probably why we get along so well.

"Yeah, whatever," I try to shake the beer off my sneakers. "Where's your girlfriend?" I have to practically scream to be heard.

Dante shrugs, throwing me a lopsided grin. "I don't know! She's been bitching at me all night though. I'm sick of it."

Dante and Patti started dating around last Christmas, I've lost count of how many times they've broken up and reunited since. They're that couple. I don't think either of them actually like each other, so it's hard to imagine what they're like when not surrounded by other people. I always picture two sentient pieces of cardboard. Patti just likes how they look together, and, seeing Dante when his mouth isn't moving, I can't really blame her.

"Hey! It's you!" Dante gets excited when Damien walks in behind me, kind of like a puppy finding a stick. I doubt he knows Damien's name.

Damien seems to realize this too, and an amused crosses smile his face. "Yeah," he slowly nods. "It is me."

"You got anything, man?"

"I'm not a drug dealer," Damien responds, his chaotic grin widening.

"Come on, bro. It's a party!"

"Still not a dealer."

Ella appears at Damien's side, enveloping him in a wordless hug, her arms winding around his neck. "How're you, darling?" He asks, returning the pressure.

I roll my eyes.

Ella doesn't answer his question, dropping her hands and turning to me. Up close it's clear that she's sober, painfully sober. "You shouldn't have come, Athena," she tells me. "Patti's already pretty upset as it is." The side eye she gives Dante would be hilarious in any other context.

"Speak of the devil!" Dante booms, laughing as if the sight of Patti entering the foyer is the funniest thing on earth.

Taking one look at Patti, I see what Ella means. Her dyed red hair is knotted back in a disheveled braid, mascara running down her cheeks and pronouncing her bloodshot green eyes. There's a massive spill on the front of her top that's stained her chest a sticky brown, and she wears a pink Birthday Girl pin that is skewed sideways. Usually, I'd think it's dumb, but now it just looks sad.