Maraschino 🍒 (gxg)

10

Chelsea always considered herself to be an ambivert -- she liked to party, but sometimes she needed a day of solitude and relaxation to recharge. She'd managed to keep a good balance of the two over the years, and knew her limits.

Right now, she wanted to go home.

The party was in full swing by the time they arrived. Carlie immediately dove in the crowd, Bryan's hand in hers, and Stephanie stuck with her for a while before also being swept up onto the dance floor. Chelsea was never a good dancer, but she'd probably have to join in if she wanted any action for herself.

Something about the atmosphere of the party made her anxious. Maybe there was one too many people, but she tried to push it off as best as she could so she could actually enjoy herself. The whole point in tagging along was to let loose and party, but she was finding it difficult with the knot in her stomach.

She made her way to the kitchen, where a transparent bucket of fruit and alcohol was on the island. She grabbed a cup, dunked it in, and took a sip. Jesus Christ, that's a lot of tequila.

She leaned on the counter and watched everyone dancing and laughing in the living room. She was an outsider looking in, at least until the booze hit. She saw Carlie somewhere in the crowd, tipping her head back in giggle fits and occasionally making out with Bryan. She still never clarified if he was her boyfriend or not, but she guessed it didn't matter; it wasn't any of her business.

She was taking another sip of her drink when she felt someone stand beside her. She looked over at a guy to her left, leaning on the counter like she was, also observing the party from a distance. She vaguely recognized his face as a stranger's she'd seen floating through the valley of dancers, mingling between the cluster of girls that had surrounded him. She frowned upon remembering this.

"Why aren't you out there with them?" he bellowed over the music. Despite being almost in her ear, she still had trouble hearing him, and took a minute to digest his words.

She shrugged in response. "I'm not much of a dancer."

"Everyone can dance when there's music, drinking, and no inhibitions." He gave a lopsided grin. "I'm Lucas, by the way."

Chelsea suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Why do guys insist on only talking to women when they want something out of them? It wasn't hard for her to figure out he was trying to get into her pants -- obviously something completely out of this realm of reality. She decided to keep the conversation going for at least another few sentences, to stop herself from rejecting him right away and facing the consequences of denying a stranger.

"I'm... Stephanie." She couldn't think of any other moniker to give, and that was the first name that popped in her head. She bit her lip; she hoped this wouldn't get the real Stephanie in trouble.

His smile widened a smidge. "That's a pretty name. It suits you well."

"Thanks."

She turned back to crowd-watch. She was hoping if she kept her answers short and tried to ignore him, he'd get the hint. Considering it was a college party, with sloppily-drunk twenty-something-year-olds, that most likely wouldn't happen. And it didn't.

"Who'd you come here with?"

She took a second to respond, jaw set. "Some girl friends."

"Where are they?"

"I don't know," she lied again. "I was just about to go looking for them."

"Do you need help?"

"No, thank you."