Breaking the Ice

twenty-three*

[t/w] dubious consent. take care and read with caution.

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It was maybe 10pm when I arrived to the party. It was hosted at some random person's penthouse a few blocks from my building, so I just decided to walk through the cold with my hands sinking deep into the pockets of my jeans. I couldn't help but miss my jacket as the cold air bit at my naked arms.

When I climbed the elevator and walked in, it was just getting started. People were taking out bottles and cans, rolling and lighting blunts, and passing around vapes while sitting on the roof. One guy I recognized from the football team, a linebacker, had his phone out in a livestream trying to convince a group of girls to come out. There was a small above-ground pool on the patio, where a few people were dipping their feet in as they sipped on cans of beer.

I went to the kitchen to grab a drink and found some guys I knew pouring red solo cups full of gin and soda. I smiled, moved to greet them with laughs and side hugs and snagged a cup for myself.

Tyler, a sophomore on the basketball team, poured another finger or two of vodka into my drink. "C'mon, Luke, I know you better than that. No need to be shy."

Leo, a friend of his, smirked. "Pour me some more too, will ya'?"

"Feels weird to be doing this on a Sunday night," I mused, sipping my drink. It was strong enough for my lips to purse at the burn.

Tyler shrugged. "It's not like I have anything better to do. So let's get drunk, boys!"

A round of cheers and shots ensued, then another, before we finally started on our mixed drinks. I was feeling warm and light already.

It was maybe a couple of hours into the night where things began to pick up. People were drunk, the music was blasting, the phone kept ringing with complaining neighbors. I was buzzed, lounging on the couch with the guys while they kept trying to spot pretty girls through the throngs of bodies. We were laughing, some of them were flirting, and I was just drinking, relaxing. My mind was going quiet.

And then I squinted my eyes open and saw familiar silver detailing through the crowd, studded into black leather.

My jacket.

The wearer turned around, flashing that lopsided smile at someone I couldn't see, running a slender hand through his blond hair.

Why would he wear it, so blatantly and loudly? This party wasn't from any schoolmate of mine, but that didn't make it less subtle. That jacket was mine. Anyone who knew me would know that.

My breath left me, and I turned, pretending I didn't see him. I really couldn't do this right now. I had come here to forget about him, but he still seemed to follow me. My chest tightened, and I drained the rest of my cup, standing quickly.

"I'm getting more," I said, before two other cups were thrust into my hand to refill. I took them and squeezed through groups of high schoolers to get into the kitchen.

I was filling up a cup when a pretty girl with warm brown skin and kinky hair tapped me on the shoulder, smiling. "Could you pour some for me, too?"

I nodded. "Yeah, of course." I squinted at her, cocked my head. Déjà vu crept up to me. "Do I know you?"

She frowned. "I'm not sure. I don't think so. My name's Layla."

I hummed in recognition. "It's a pleasure. I'm Luke."

"The pleasure's mine," she said. "Hey, I'm sitting with some friends of mine outside by the pool. Would you want to come?"

I glanced at her dark eyes, her genuine smile. Maybe she was flirting, but I couldn't tell. Did I really care? I just didn't want to be where Beau was dancing, smiling, waiting.