7
Weston
I need to fuck someone tonight.
I drag a mop through a puddle of pink-tinged vodka on Saturday night, surrounded by the pulsing, reverberating bass of loud music, and the thought that shoots through my mind is unwelcome.
That’s not the kind of person I usually am.
I’m not like Sevan, going around and fucking whoever passes my way.
But after this week, I need something.
I’m in the kitchen at Onyx House as the party rages on in the living room, cleaning a giant spill of liquor that I told Noah I’d take care of. Honestly, I’m glad for a break from the party, because luckily the kitchen is empty right now other than me, and I have a second to collect my thoughts.
And one thought is louder than the others.
I need someone to be with tonight.
Or I’m about to fucking blow.
I never usually want casual hookups. The other guys would say I’m lame for it, but what I really want is a relationship, and I was just on the precipice of being comfortable trying to date men for the first time.
I want love, even though it feels impossible to find and ridiculous to hope for.
But I’ll lose my mind if I don’t get off.
Blow off steam.
Just fuck any human being who isn’t Sevan Berlant so that I’ll get him out of my head.
I feel pressure like someone’s been tightening a wrench around me all week, bit by bit, and this party is adding a metric ton of pressure to the mix.
Everything at tonight’s party is too uncontrolled. Unpredictable.
Like this Jackson Pollock ink-splash of a liquor puddle that’s currently fanned out across the kitchen floor, waiting for some drunk partygoer to come break their tailbone on it.
“Hey. Stay back,” I call out in a deep warning tone, holding out my hand as two drunk girls stumble into the kitchen.
“Hi, cutie,” the blonde girl says, pausing at the edge of the tile.
“There’s half a bottle’s worth of broken glass and liquor on the floor. Let me clean this up,” I tell them.
“Why’s it pink? I like it.”
I pull in a long breath as I switch to the broom and sweep over some more of the glass shards.
“Noah thought it would be fun to add food coloring to the vodka, then he turned to kiss someone and dropped it on the floor. I’d make him clean it up if he wasn’t already practically blacking out.”
“I can help you,” the blonde says again. “If you promise to fuck me afterward.”
“God, Lara, shut up!” the other girl says, laughing and covering her friend’s mouth with her hand.
The blonde pushes her hand away. “She’s jealous. Fine. You have to fuck us both.”
I keep my eyes downcast on the floor. “Not tonight. Sorry.”
They each reach over to grab cans of tinned hard seltzer and wave me off. As they’re walking out, I hear them talking in a hushed tone.“Yeah. He never really wants anybody.”