Angst

by Victoria Sawyer

  I keep thinking about the secret guzzling sips and how, right now, when I’m sitting here in the situation it doesn’t feel like enough. Plus it’s embarrassing to admit, even to myself, which is why I’m trying not to think about it. But the words secret drinker and alcoholic keep coming to mind. Does anyone else drink to escape their own crazy brain?

  Finally we arrive at the house and I realize that I was only able to get through the short drive because of my swigs of vodka. Otherwise I’m positive that “out of control” me would have been a raving shaking mess, screaming inside my own head, trapped in the backseat. As it is, even with the alcoholic help, I’m just barely on the edge of sanity. Amanda parks the car and we get out and I notice that my legs are shaky. Shit. I distract myself by looking up at the huge house in front of us, all lit up sitting in a large field. I take just a moment to be bowled over by how the other half lives, lucky rich bastards, as we climb up the granite steps to the huge double wooden doors.

  But then my stomach lurches, a reminder that I need alcohol. So, it’s distraction again, until I find the stash. Once we’re inside, I’m relieved to note that it seems as though I don’t know anyone here. I pass a variety of male faces and no one seems familiar, although I do spot several hotties that I would enjoy fucking around with. Maybe by the end of the night I could make my self-loathing complete with a little soulless making out and dry humping. A smile widens across my face as I spot the large array of alcohol in the huge kitchen and promptly make myself the largest rum and coke I can fit in the blue Solo Cup. All the way to the tippy top. Amanda and Hannah are still chatting away, apparently oblivious to the fact that I’ve only smiled and nodded at anything they’ve had to say.

  Now that we all have drinks we make our way into the huge finished and well-furnished room in the basement where a DJ table has been set up and people are dancing. Others are gathered around a pool table on one side of the room and there are a few drinking games set up too. I’m all for dancing because my first few large sips of rum and coke turn my mouth up in a sour grimace which means I made it right and I’m on my fucking way. I have skillzzz to pay the billzzz bitches. I start grinding and Amanda and Hannah join in, giggling and laughing, pointing out attractive guys to each other and I smile too, finally able to release the tension in my stomach.

  Suddenly I realize that someone near the DJ table looks surprisingly familiar from behind. It looks like Jared, but I can’t imagine that he could possibly be at the same place as me. It’s not possible. It can’t be. But suddenly the guy I’m eyeing moves and I catch his profile and it’s definitely a Jared profile. Damn it! Really?? Now the stomach clenching begins anew, especially when seconds later I spot a short top-heavy blonde run up to him and throw her arms around his neck, smiling up at him. Stacia. God…oh shit! My heart breaks into a gallop, full speed and I fake smile at the girls as we continue to dance because I don’t want them to notice Jared and therefore speak about him out loud. I’m going to be doing enough thinking and obsessing in my own brain about him and I don’t need help. Not yet anyway.

  Seriously, how can Jared be here, and not just here, but here with her? How could he approach me, make it real, leave me, reject me and then mysteriously tell me that I’m wicked by drawing a devil on me??? Ok, that just sounds fucked up. What the hell does it all mean? I guess it’s just plain old rejection even if it makes no sense whatsoever. And now here he is, damn him, with Stacia all over him. Does he want her? Are they getting together? It seems like he’s interested because she’s really vivacious, talking, smiling, laughing at him and he’s following right along. This is going to ruin my night. How can I avoid him and her?

  “Holy shit girls, look at that slut all over that guy,” whispers one of Amanda’s friends with a laugh to Amanda, Hannah and me. I smile tightly, Hannah hasn’t noticed it’s Jared and Stacia with their backs to us. But I can because I’ve seen their faces.

  Oh how I hate Stacia, watching her smile at him, her tits oozing out of her top, her expression fake and overly animated. Will she tell Jared about how I embarrassed myself on the mall trip? I gasp involuntarily at this thought and feel faint. Oh my God, I can’t have him find out about that! Talk about fucking embarrassment! Suddenly, I’m on fire, hot and squirming and I turn around, not wanting him to see me but at the same time wishing he would approach me and say something, as long as she hasn’t said something to him first.

  We’re dancing when Amanda looks over at me and squeals, “Vic, remember this song from high school! Whoop whoop!” and I smile and dance with her, trying to act normal and distract myself from the anxiety, the rejection and the terrible depression. And for a while I’m able to avoid detection by Jared, but finally it’s over because as I look up, I see that he is watching us or maybe he’s looking at me? His expression is serious, not revealing much. God he turns me on. He looks damn good tonight in dark jeans, and another tight white t-shirt with some kind of writing on it, accentuating his hot body, the white making his skin look tan, his messy hair even darker. He does something primal to me. God I want to fuck him. For some reason alcohol always has that effect on me, making me hot, turned on, ultra slutty.

  One of my favorite songs blares over the speakers and I sing along with Amanda and Hannah, an old favorite from several years ago, Dr. Dre, Chronic 2000. As I dance, grindin to the low bump of the bass beat, I notice that Stacia is wrapped right around him now, nuzzling against his neck and for a moment I’m shocked, stunned into a statue, not moving or dancing. And then I realize what I’m doing and quickly start to dance again stiffly. Shit, I can’t seem to keep my eyes off him as she rubs herself against him, pulling his ear down to whisper something and he smiles at her. My stomach clenches into a tight little ball, probably trying to eat itself alive.

  Holy shit, this hurts. I know he’s seen me with other guys, but this is the first time I’ve seen him with her like this. It isn’t pleasant. I literally feel like I want to throw up, I’m that affected by it. Maybe she’s his girlfriend and I have absolutely zero chance of ever being with him again. My heart plummets. Despair. If he wants a girl like that after what he told me the other night, I don’t want him. I want no part. But…shit, I do! I want him! Why would he do this to me? Why would reject me, be totally cryptic last time at the black light party and now he’s with her? Stupid, shallow, bitchy, mean Stacia. Sure, yeah, she’s better than me. Good choice, asshole!

  My next thought is that clearly I’m not good enough for him. Clearly he might want me physically, but there is something about who I really am that he doesn’t want. Bastard. It must be embarrassing to like a girl like me, a crazy, slutty, attention whore. Maybe she’s already told him about how fucking weird I am. Faacccccck no, this sucks!!!

  I try to pull my thoughts away from this depressive line when I notice a group of guys standing against the wall, their eyes following my body, talking to each other, slight smiles flashing between them. They are good looking, older guys, sketchy, just the kind to make a slutty not good enough girl feel even worse about herself, just the right kind to make my goal of total self-hatred complete. I grab on to Hannah’s hand, touching her, dancing close, knowing that the guys are watching. Wanting them to watch, distracting myself from my problems, yet again.

  One of them smiles, the cutest, clearly giving me the eye, his eyebrow lifted as I do ever racier dances, favoring them with a nice view of my ass as I bend over then slide back up slowly. I smile back and then thinking about Jared and his rejection of me and how Goddamned depressed I am, I force myself to be courageous and dance up to them, grinding against the guy who had smiled, my expression purposely sexy and raunchy. And he’s cute in a bad boy kind of way, tall and a bit lanky with tattoos all over his arms, his hat on backwards, eyes blue and smoldering. Maybe someone else could want me? Fuck you Jared.

  He seems surprised at first, but I don’t care because soon he’s touching me, smiling, his hands flowing over my body as I grind my ass against his crotch. Clearly his friend
s are enjoying it too, laughing and making comments to me. I mean, really, who doesn’t like to see a slutty little freshman, bold on alcohol, willing to flaunt herself? It’s bad, terrible even, but I don’t care, in fact it feels fucking good to be wanted.

  Soon one of the guys invites me to go with them to a nearby room, claiming that they have marijuana and cocaine and that I should come with them. I bounce back over to the girls with some kind of false cloying happiness to tell them of my plans and Hannah looks wide-eyed and scared as shit, eyeing the guys behind me. But I just smile ever wider. She clutches at my arm.

  “Are you sure? Do you want me to come with you? Let me come with you,” she says. Amanda isn’t as concerned but Hannah clearly doesn’t want to leave me alone. Amanda nods in understanding since she’s known me longer, giving me a “you’re being wild and out of control” smirk her eyebrow lifted and we move off, following after the guys into a darkly lit room upstairs across the hall from the kitchen.

  A bowl is already being passed around when we arrive and someone gets up to close the door and put on music after Hannah and I walk in. The room is an office, with a desk, couch and coffee table. I sit down on the couch next to the guy I was dancing with, sitting as close to him as possible. I can tell Hannah is a bit freaked out, but she sits on the other side of me, not saying anything, her eyes large as saucers. Some other sketchy dude with scruffy facial hair, dreads and a backward baseball hat, pulls out a mirror and proceeds to spill white dust onto the surface, a rolled up twenty dollar bill in his hand.

  Rap music is pumping through the small room now as I take my hit on the bowl that’s passing me by and then I proceeded to take things a bit too far by kissing the guy next to me on the neck. My sexuality is all out of whack, all out of control. I hazily think about how I just want some contact, some exposure, some fucking attention. The mirror is offered to me now and I’ve never done cocaine before, but it looks like everyone else is enjoying themselves and I’m drunk and high and maybe a little bump would be okay? Shit, why not, how low can I go.

  I take the offered 20 dollar bill and follow the first guy’s example, holding it up to my nose and snorting as hard as I can while following the little white line of powder. I pull the bill away from my nose, sniff a few times, almost sneeze and then immediately feel the bump. Whoa…I’m high, on top of the world, heart racing, tripping along but in a good way, and things are clearer, elevated, crystal. Shit I feel…vibrant, fucking intense.

  While I’m sitting there pondering these new feelings, the guys talking around me, I’m zoning for a moment, staring into space, not paying attention to anything anyone is saying until the music really hits me. It’s old skool, Notorius BIG, Hypnotize, and suddenly the words, the beat pierces my consciousness. It thumps and I feel like I can’t be still, I love this freaking song. I start to move in my seat, dancing sitting down, when one of the guys makes a suggestion.

  “Dance for us.”

  Three simple words and I love this idea. I want to dance on the coffee table for these guys. I want to do something sexy. Hannah is leaning back now, her eyes closing just a bit and she no longer seems as concerned. I get up slowly, holding the edge of the couch with one hand, my drink in the other and climb on to the coffee table, legs a bit wobbly at first until I steady myself and start to move slowly.

  The music is low and dirty, bumping, and I move, back and forth, watching the guys sitting around the table, leaned back in their seats, their eyes barely open, but definitely following me. A few of them shoot grins to each other, squinting at the light behind me. I swivel my hips, close my eyes and really feel the music move over me and around me, making me move, making me feel alive to every sensation, every fluid move of my body. I’m totally in the zone right now, rockin it. Fuck yeah, I’m gonna hypnotize these fuckers.

  The beat pulses and I feel like I’m one with it, and things seem so clear, vivid, alive and I let my body take over and I know I’m dancing incredible right now, moving in time with the music. I feel so good, I move my hands over my hips, waist and up under my shirt and finally boldly pull up my shirt, tearing it over my head and tossing it aside. I’m dancing in my bra and tight black slut pants, the ones that outline every curve, my black bra overflowing since it’s just a bit too small.

  This feels unbelievable. I’m on top of the fucking world. I can’t think about Jared. Fuck him. Other guys are interested in what I have to offer. I sing along with the dirty words, hands on my hips as I pulse slowly down low, hips spiraling and then flip my hair around, finally moving back up to standing. I’m a fucking stripper! Oh my God, I can suddenly understanding why someone might want to flaunt their body, enjoying the looks I’m getting from the guys, giving each other little smirks, clearly enjoying the show.

  Just as I turn toward the door, hips swiveling, offering them a nice view of my ass in my tight form fitting pants, the door opens. A shadowy figure stands there for a moment, staring into the semi-darkness. Then he walks in very slowly. I assume it’s one of their friends so I continue dancing, but as he approaches me, his eyes never leave my body and finally move to my eyes. It’s Jared. A very serious Jared.

  Holy fuck, what the hell is he doing in here? For a moment I’m in misery. I stop dancing and just stand there on that coffee table, hand on hip, hip cocked like a teenager caught by her parents doing something “bad,” embarrassed yet defiant. Jared walks slowly up to me and puts out his hand.

  “Come on,” he says, grabbing my wrist, his large hand engulfing it, helping me down from the coffee table. And I’m too dazed to argue and his hand feels so good against my skin, hot and rough. Maybe I don’t want to be doing this? I turn around, looking for Hannah and see that she’s already at the door. And then she’s gone. Jared tugs me out of the room, picking up my shirt where I had tossed it on the floor, leaving behind the blackness, the drugs, the slutty girl I had become. Or maybe not, because as soon as we’re out of the room, my words come fast, angry, and flippant.

  “Listen, fuck me, okay? Just do it. I know you want to. I know there’s a physical attraction between us that you can’t deny. Here I am, asshole, what are you waiting for?” I sneer, leaning toward him, my shirt now grasped in my hand pressed against my heaving chest as I breathe hard with anger. He looks at me for a moment, lips compressed into a tight line, studying my face, seeing my anger.

  A voice comes from the room we just left. “Fuck you, McKinley,” and it sounds like the guy I was grinding with on the dance floor. Jared looks up at the sound for a moment and a twinge of annoyance crosses his face before he looks back at me.

  “I don’t want that with you Victoria, I don’t want to just sleep with you,” he says, his voice annoyed and low. He pulls me away from the door, toward another, smaller, room down the hallway. I struggle to pull my shirt over my head as I stumble behind him, feeling an angry fire building inside and I’m feeding it little twigs and finally larger branches, fanning it until it’s roaring, red hot. How dare he say he doesn’t want it! Who does he think he is pulling me out of that room? I can do whatever the fuck I want! I don’t need some Goddamned babysitter to tell me I’m being bad! I don’t need daddy watching over my fucking shoulder!

  “Oh really? Is that why you always end up all over me at some point or other?” I ask sarcastically, trying to play off his comment like it means nothing to me. I just want to go back to my friends, I just want to hit him. “You think I’m a huge slut, don’t you,” I finally retort, realizing that of course this is what he thinks. He’s sure I’m easy and maybe he doesn’t want easy? I can’t figure it out through my drunken fucked up haze.

  “Well, I’ve heard things, seen things. You do always seem to be with a different guy,” he says his voice tightly controlled and I can detect some anger there. At these words my anger fire explodes like TNT.

  “Oh fuck you, asshole! I guess Stacia’s not a slut?! Yeah fucking right, she’s been all over you tonight in her teeny little shirt, go fuckin judge her!” I bite out, turnin
g around and stalking from the room. I don’t need to stay here and talk to him about this. I’m not interested in hearing him preach to me about how slutty he thinks I am or about how disgusted he is with my actions. He doesn’t own me, he isn’t my boyfriend and it doesn’t seem he’s likely to become him either. He doesn’t try to stop me.

  I find Hannah and Amanda in the large room, still dancing with friends and throwing back drinks. I’ve got a death grip on my new full blue solo cup of rum and coke ‘cause I need to obliterate what has been said and what he caught me doing.

  Now, I’m focused on drinking and trying to enjoy myself and I need to stop thinking about him. Eventually he comes back into the room, silver flask in hand, looking cool as ever and resumes his spot by the DJ table with Ms. Blonde Skank Stacia. She clearly wants his attention and is dancing with him and I’m not really able to stop myself from glowering and she clearly can’t stop looking over at me to flaunt that she’s with him. Fuck her! Stupid bitch! Hannah and Amanda have noticed him now and keep shooting me supportive looks and glaring at him over their shoulders.

  “It’s okay, Vicky, he’s being an asshole,” says Hannah, putting a hand on my arm. I shrug, my eyes tearing up a little, but damn it I won’t let my emotion about this show. The night wears on and I dance with different guys and my friends, but I have no attention span for anyone other than Jared. I hate it because I’m in a crowd, surrounded by people dancing, laughing, drinking and generally having an awesome time…and I’m this sulky mess.

  Eventually I spot Jared talking in the corner to my double-ex, the asshole himself, blonde, blue-eyed, too cool, Brad Winter. They’re leaning against a wall and Jared is smiling tightly as Brad appears to be telling him some kind of larger than life story. Typical Brad.