For the Both of Us

Chapter Two: You Don't Want to Fight Me

I cursed at myself for not having brought my own pack of cigarettes. My body ached for one, but my introverted mind begged me not to ask strangers for anything. Well, not to talk to strangers at all, really. Besides, I didn't want to leave Nicky.

But Nicky wasn't paying any attention to me. She was too busy making out with Dax - a guy that she had met a week ago, and who had already become her boyfriend. My mind had trouble comprehending this.

I, for one, had never had a boyfriend, unless we're counting my two-weeks-over-the-phone relationship with Jeff, but even that had taken months to happen.

I had liked him and he had liked me, and after five months of awkward eye-contact, he had asked me if I wanted to go to prom with him, looking down at his fingers, and I had agreed, looking down at mine.

I had kissed Jeff at the school prom. I remembered being so nervous to kiss a guy for the first time, and I remembered not liking kissing Jeff at all, wondering why everyone made such a big fuss over making out: a messy exchange of saliva and hot breath, tongues clashing, not really knowing what to do with my hands, and feeling Jeff's moustache hair in my mouth.

We had dated for two weeks, but only throughout text. When he saw me at school, he'd pretend he didn't know me at all. Eventually, "we have to break up," he'd said, "I'm not good at this whole relationship thing."

"You shouldn't have gotten into one in the first place, then." I had wanted to say, but didn't.

It hadn't been a memorable experience, and it had left me thinking whether perhaps there was something terribly wrong with me.

Seeing Dax and Nicky now, their bodies pressed together, their hands caressing, exploring, their eyes shut in clear passion, it sent a wave of sadness through me.

Sighing, I held on tighter to my coat, and made my way through the crowd. I certainly wasn't going to stand here all night, and wait for Nicky to be done.

I unlocked my phone screen, checking the time. Midnight thirty. Two more hours, I told myself reassuringly.

My phone vibrated and a message from my mom appeared on the screen: How's it going? Let me know! :)

I typed a quick and untruthful response, telling her that it was great.

I was about to press the send button when someone bumped into my shoulder, hard, causing my phone to slip out of my hands and fall on the floor. I bent to pick it up, and gasped. The screen had cracked, and no matter the number of times I tried to turn the phone on, it wouldn't light up. I cursed under my breath, rising into a standing position, ready to snap at the idiot that had pushed me, but as my eyes met his, my mouth shut.

It was Hakeem. He was looking at me with narrow, intoxicated eyes. I could tell he was too out to make sense of the situation, so I simply rolled my eyes at him, and walked away.

The couch that had been crowded before, was now merely empty except for the couple making out, which were still there, and still kissing. The guy was kissing the girl's neck, making her moan, and making me want to cover my ears with my hands.

I sat down, taking another sip of whiskey. The taste was disgusting, but it was helping.

Someone slumped down beside me, making the couch jump. A heavy hand fell around my shoulders.

I turned to look at him. Hakeem. Why wouldn't he just leave me alone?

"Enjoying the party?" He said, speaking slowly.

I was about to answer when I felt a sting on my arm, causing me to jump. Hakeem had burnt my skin with the cigarette I hadn't realized he'd been holding.