"I can't remember what happened that night. I'm not talking slippery details or fuzzy-edged visions; I mean a complete and utter blackout. Like I wasn't even there. Except... I know I was."
Since the death of her boyfriend six months ago, Morgan Cai...
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If I thought a party full of student volunteers was going to be less rowdy than usual, I was mistaken.
Turned out, they could party as hard as anyone. Once a few hours and countless games of beer pong—not to mention drunk Cards Against Humanity—had passed, they were as loud and raucous as anything I'd seen in welcome week. And what may have started as a semi-quiet night in one apartment definitely didn't finish in the same way.
Somewhere around midnight, the news traveled that there was another, bigger party just a couple of streets away. By then, most people were way past comfortably tipsy, leading to a sudden surge of chaotic agreement that it was time to move on. Cue a scramble of people downing the contents of their cups, trying to relocate their friends, and clumsily tapping the address into Google Maps.
Josh was one of them.
"You coming, Morg?" he asked, retrieving his leather jacket from the back of a dining chair and shrugging it over his shoulders.
I didn't want to disappoint him, but the hesitation must've shown on my face. "I—"
"Come on," he said. "You can't leave Jay Gatsby without his Daisy. With this outfit, I'll just turn up looking majorly overdressed. What do you say?"
What else could I say?
"We don't have to stay too long," he added. "Whenever you want to go home, we can go. I promise."
So that was that. I nodded, and before long I was letting him hold up my jacket as I slipped my arms inside. I downed the last of my Coke like the extra caffeine might give me the kind of buzz I needed. The whole time, I was in two minds: part of me wanted nothing more than to be cozied up in bed in my dorm (preferably with Josh beside me), but the other part clung to the jolt of electricity I felt when he took my hand and led me away.
I would try to have a good time, I decided. It would be a self-fulfilling prophecy if I turned up expecting to want to leave. The least I could do was make an effort.
But that didn't last long.
The other apartment was definitely more than a couple of streets away. Perhaps the others were too drunk to notice, but Dean and Cat—who took charge of the navigation—were definitely taking us around in circles. I also really needed to pee; the final dregs of Coke had gone straight to my bladder, and if we didn't find the place quickly I was going to have a serious problem.
We got there eventually. The elevator reeked of weed and had way too many of us packed inside, but after thirty uncomfortable seconds we bundled out and reached the front door. Once inside, I broke my hand away from Josh's.
"I'm going to find the bathroom," I told him, exaggerating the lip movements as the sound disappeared under thumping bass from the speakers. "I'll come find you in a sec."
