master of none.

007; we're not lovers, we're just strangers.

    LYLA DIDN'T SHOW UP TO WORK ON MONDAY, AND THE DAY AFTER THAT, AND THE DAY AFTER THAT. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought that she quit, though I was secretly hoping that wasn't the case.

But on Thursday, she came back. And when she came back, it was almost as if last Friday hadn't happened. Not that I expected her to throw herself at me, but I expected a little more than averted eye contact and short answers when I tried to talk to her. I didn't mention the party to save us both the embarrassment, but I was hoping that seeing me afterwards would give her some sort of reminder of what happened.

But it doesn't, and I went home with my heart in my stomach.

▲▼▲▼

          Cassidy called me that night while I was doing some bullshit assignment for English, and invited me to her house and tells me that her parents are out for their anniversary, which means breaking into their alcohol stash. She doesn't have to explain further before I'm on the next train to Brooklyn.

She texted me the address and tells me that I shouldn't be confused by all of the houses looking identical. The only distinguishing mark she gave me is a placemat that says "Turn Around". It took me a fairly long time, because trespassing wasn't something I wanted to add onto my record, but nonetheless, I found it.

After two knocks, the door opened and I saw Miles standing opposite of me. I managed a weak smile and he stepped aside without saying a word. Just like Lyla, Miles has been giving me the cold shoulder ever since the party. Apparently my not covering of my hickeys had caused him some sort of discomfort, especially tonight because he spent more time looking at them than he did my face.

Cassidy came into my view, a smirk on her face as she held two bottles; one whiskey, and one tequila. And from that alone, I knew Cassidy's goal was to knock me on my back.

"Evan!" She squeaked. "You made it, and just in time. I was just about to open these."

"You know it's a school night, right?" I said, as if she wasn't aware of the obvious.

"Scared to go to school tomorrow with a hangover?" She mused as she shook the bottles.

"I'm more concerned about my last text being shown on commercials because I crashed and died." I deadpanned.

"Must have been some text." I heard Miles mutter from his spot on the couch.

Cassidy shot him a look before turning back to me. "Hey, can you come help me in the kitchen?"

I nodded wordlessly and followed her, my eyes trained to the floor as it switched from carpet to tile. The kitchen is fairly small, but I'm sure it does its job.

She turned around opens the cabinet and grabs a few shot glasses, while she sets them on the counter, she whispers to me. "I didn't really need your help, I was just doing you a favor by getting you out of that situation."

"Thanks." I mumbled, and lean against the counter opposite from her.

"I'm sorry about him, though." She said. "He's, uh — been a little weird lately."

"I have a feeling he told you about what happened on Friday." I said with a sigh.

"That's putting it mildly." She scoffed.

Great; just great. Congratulations, Evan. Somehow you've managed to slowly turn everyone against you by doing absolutely nothing but crushing on a girl. There's got to be some sort of medal for this.

"And in case you're wondering, I think he's overreacting." She went on to say.

I stood a little straighter once she said this. Alright, maybe I wasn't turning everyone against me. Waiting for her to clarify, I found myself twiddling my thumbs, as if I were a little kid. "I kinda thought you would take his side on this one."