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I squeeze my body through a group of at least seven guys standing around three girls, all fighting for their attention

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I squeeze my body through a group of at least seven guys standing around three girls, all fighting for their attention. I've never been to a watering hole during mating season, but this has to be as close as it gets. I've honestly been eavesdropping from across the room just waiting for a fight to the death over a girl who probably wouldn't even text them back.

The entire party is practically a sausage fest of dudes all dressed like they're auditioning for Saving Private Ryan, except none of them hold a candle to Matt Damon in his prime.

I nearly gag as I slide by the last member of the group. Sweat from his forearm grazes the exposed skin of my stomach. He seems to feel it too because he turns to face me and smiles. I'm just thankful I can't hear what he's saying over the music. It would probably make me actually vomit.

I mouth fuck off and continue my trek into the kitchen. I'm actually relieved to see Alyssa sitting on the counter talking to some guy with face paint on. He's borderline in blackface, but no one seems to care. Especially Alyssa who seems to be hanging on to his every word.

"Do you have a UTI or something that I should be concerned about?" I ask as I approach them. "You went to the bathroom forty minutes ago and never came back."

"Camryn! I have been looking for you! This is my friend Alex that I told you about!" Both statements are a lie. Her eyes are so glossed over it probably isn't registering that she's sitting down, or that we've never once talked about boys together aside from the whole Taylor sex dagger thing. Even then, it was more of her talking at me, and me ignoring her.

I hide the shudder the memory sends down my spine.

"Guys this is my roommate Ryn." Alyssa slurs, turning to another guy who seemingly materialized from the beer vapor in the air. "I told you she was pretty, Justin." Justin inches closer, giving me a once over. He leans in to say something, but I hold up my hand in his face. "Save it for someone who cares."

Justin brushes it off by acting like he was trying to walk past me to get to the fridge. I turn my attention back to Alyssa who has her head thrown back in laughter.

"I told you she was funny too!" she yells to no one in particular.

"Alyssa, I think we should go." I'm entirely too sober for this.

"Yes! We should go to the bars!"

"No. We should go home. To sleep." I mimic laying my head onto my hands, just in case her auditory function is too drunk to understand. The guy she chose tonight looks eager at the mention, so I turn towards him again and add, "Alone."

"Nooooooooo! I want to go dancing at the club. It will be fun!"

"Getting an STD from a toilet seat is not on my agenda for the night," I say.

"Fine. We'll go," she tuts.

I ask the racially inappropriate guy for his phone and make it look as if I am putting my number in it when really I'm sharing his location with myself in the event she loses her phone. Or I can stalk him if something happens to her.

"Good luck," I mouthed to both of them before moving to the back door of the kitchen that leads outside. I pass two girls, one throwing up, the other holding her hair and am glad I've had one beer and can walk out of here with my head held high.

I make it out of the alley and onto the main street before pulling out my phone to text Gabi.

Me: Looked cute tonight. Too bad no one could see me.

I sent along a picture of myself I snapped in the bathroom back at the house.

Gabriella Brown loved an image

Gabriella Brown: I hope you're sending this from a party OR post sex with a random guy you met at the party

Do I tell her I'm currently walking home to watch The Real Housewives at— I check the time at the top of the screen—eleven fifty seven instead of any of the things she mentioned?

If she weren't out herself she would call and lecture me. Actually, if she's had enough to drink she will call and lecture me anyway.

Me: The night is just starting :)

My stomach drops at the idea of lying to her. Although she can probably already tell I'm lying. She has a sixth sense for that. I can at least give the illusion that I am trying to, maybe, possibly, think about putting myself out there.

Gabi sends back a GIF of Will Ferrell in Elf saying You sit on a throne of lies!

I chuckle into my phone because Elf is one of my favorite movies. It reminds me of the first Christmas Gabi and I watched it. We then made it our mission to recreate the horrible concoction of dessert spaghetti that is Buddy's specialty. We lied to my mom and told her that we were making Christmas cookies for everyone, but instead cooked two pounds of spaghetti noodles and then froze them into cookie shaped lumps.

"We have to make our own spin on it," Gabi had declared, "An original, nobody likes a copycat."

I stare at the GIF again and I try to imagine what Gabi would actually say if she were here now, and not in Tennessee. I know she would tell me that I don't have to go to another party or the bars, but she would tell me it's too early to go home. She would find some other adventure for us to go on. She's always had the ability to turn a quick Google search into a core memory.

I pause in the middle of the sidewalk, looking up from my phone for a second to take in my surroundings. It takes less than a second to find it. I know exactly where I can go.

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