Heart On Your Sleeve | Timothee Chalamet

One // HYOS

I knew I shouldn't have listened to Evie.

Sweaty bodies were crammed into the remodeled colonial Tudor, wall to wall, jumping, pumping their fists, bobbing their heads, laughing, gyrating, and completely conquering me as I tried to squeeze through. The music was so loud I could hardly think straight. I suffered through the elbows to the head, body bumps and musty underarms until finally I found a clearing in the kitchen. People were packed in here, too, but instead of dancing, just talking in groups, sipping their drinks.

Yeah that's what I needed. A drink. Too bad I was sober going on a year now. Another reason I shouldn't have let Evie drag me to a party— a frat party! She'd promised it would be fun. But so far it's been an hour and all I've done is watch the light die in guy's eyes when they ask me about my studies in biology, followed by the prompt and direct "Are you a virgin?"

Like, what even? The first guy was weird. Who asks that only a minute into a conversation? The second guy was much less patient as he tried handing me a shot glass, which I refused. After the third guy asked, I started thinking maybe this was some type of "Lose Your Virginity" party, except only the guys knew about it, and Everyone else was like prey waiting to be devoured.

To top it off, I lost Evie after the first ten minutes and hadn't seen her since. I squeezed through the kitchen until I reached the counter where there was an assortment of 2 liter soda bottles, liquor bottles and cups. I poured myself a cup of coke and finally lubricated my dry throat. I was thinking about ditching this freak show, but then I thought, who would get Evie home safely?

I pictured her in the crowded living room wearing those ripped denim shorts and that tiny crop top, some douche bag pushing up behind her, probably able to tell whether she was a virgin or not by the way her hips swayed. Maybe this had been her idea all along. For me to come solely as her designated driver. I was her sober friend after all, her responsible friend, so she called me. Tonight wasn't about me getting out of my shell or having the quintessential college experience. It was about her getting wasted and having another wild story to tell.

I sipped the coke with my back to the counter, watching everyone. Conversation looked effortless for everyone. Yet they were talking about nothing at all. Yeah that professor sucks ass. We adopted a cat but didn't know she was pregnant. Did you watch that new show? It was mundane, normal. What I liked. What I needed. I exhale in relief wondering how much longer...

Then that idiot walked in. The first guy to ask if I was a virgin. He was tripping as he made his way over, unable to even walk straight. Headed right towards me. The Coke started tasting butter in my mouth. I put my cup down and tried heading the opposite direction before he made it to the drinks. But as I passed him, he grabbed my arm.

"You should dance with me!" He yelled with his eyes closed as he leaned toward me. I wiggled free, and laughed a little.

"I'm actually looking for my friend. I have to make sure she gets home safe," I backed away. But he stepped toward me again.

"You were telling me about the research project you were doing, about slugs—"

"Snails," I said.

"What?" He yelled, hot liquor breath hitting me in the face.

"Snails! My research is about snails not slugs!" I yelled back.

He smiled at me and nodded. "Right! Let's go upstairs so you can tell me more."

I looked him up and down and all I could think was Yeah, right. As if. What would I look like except a total clown?

"While that sounds titillating and I would love to keep talking over that empty head of yours, I'm going to be on my way." I rotated on the calls my sneakers, but this meat head just would not relent. He grabbed me again.