As Laura struts through the crowd and back to the bar, I bring my beer up to my lips and tilt my head back to enjoy another sip of the crisp IPA I’ve decided on for the evening.

I’m not really too much of a drinker. Never have been. But tonight, picking up the pieces of Laura that were strewn about in her apartment made me require a little help to get myself to a more relaxed headspace.

It looks to me like she’s having a decent time. She’s realizing that we’re some of the few people here that aren’t in college anymore, and I think it rattles her cage a little.

Not that she doesn’t fit into the party scene. She’s kept the body of a goddess the entire time I’ve known her, and Jesus Christ, does she know how to work it out there.

Laura’s always been the type of person who doesn’t like wasting time on nonsense. She wants as much of her experiences as possible to add value to her life.

So wasting a couple of good ‘living it up’ years on a douchebag? Fucked her up.

Let me be clear—I think she was actually fucking happy with the dude. That’s the killer. She was willing to give up so much for him, only for him to just not give a flying fuck about her in the end.

I take another swig of my drink.

I’ve spent the better part of the night making sure Laura’s having a good time, and I think I just managed to piss her off.

I don’t dance.

Everywhere I go, women flock to me. Not a bad thing, I guess, but I’m getting fucking tired of the meaninglessness of it all.

If I go out there and dance, I’m more than certain it’ll call unnecessary attention to me. And then the eyes that have been literally all on Laura will be distracted, and I just don’t need that for her. I want her to have this moment.

Besides, getting a full view of that body from right here is about fucking perfect.

I go to take another drink.

“How are you doing tonight?” a sultry voice whispers in my left ear.

I’ve been so distracted, just keeping my eyes on Laura all night, that I didn’t notice this girl.

I turn my head to address her, and she full on drunk kisses me. Tongue and all.

I’m not a rude guy. So what do I do?

My dumb ass kisses her back.

I mean, what else am I supposed to do?

Her tongue wildly explores my mouth, flicking against the tip of mine and even grazing over my teeth. Her mouth tastes like Cuervo. I don’t want to be a dick, because again, I’m a nice guy, but I fucking hate tequila.

I power through it, though, because even though it’s sloppy, it’s not exactly the worst thing that could be happening.

When our lips finally part, all I see is Laura, standing stock-still on the dance floor, mouth wide open, eyes unblinking. The look of shock on her face is something I’ve never seen in our years of friendship.

It suddenly makes me question whether or not I should have reciprocated kissing this random chick. And what’s that about anyway? But fuck, she appeared so quickly I couldn’t even tell you what she looked like.

My heart races as she stomps over to me, drink in hand. I brace myself, ready to have it thrown on me for doing something stupid.

“You jackass! All you had to do was say you saw someone you had your eye on. I wouldn’t have tried to drag you out to the floor with me.”

“Oh. Her? No, Laura. Fuck, no. I’m not interested at all! I just—”

And there’s the drink. But it’s not Laura’s. And rather than just in my mouth, I now have tequila sunrise on my face and soaking my shirt.

“Fuck you, you dick!” the sassy redhead shouts as she slams her glass on the table next to me and storms off.

“Um”

Her face shows nothing but sheer confusion. I can’t say I have much more clarity on the whole ordeal myself.

“This girl just came up to me and decided to use my mouth for a game of tonsil hockey. I was caught off-guard. What was I supposed to do? I didn’t want to be rude!”

“Oh my god. Are you serious?” she continues, a slight smirk on her face. “That’s fucking wild.”

Laura takes another sip of her drink. If I had to guess, she’s switched to Green Dinosaurs because the Sex on the Beach wasn’t enough liquor for her. Laura the Lush.

If there’s anything I know about Laura after years of partying with her, it’s that she likes to go from zero to hammered in no time flat. If there were some way to measure a record for most responsible to most reckless under the influence of alcohol, she’d win. Hands down.

I sigh.

“Hey. I think I’m gonna go out to the back and smoke,” I say to Laura. All of the commotion has me really itching for a cigarette. “Do you want to come out?”

She takes a long gulp of her drink, finishing it off. Damn, she’s fast.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

We make our way out to the back of the building to the smokers’ area. The cool air nips at our skin as we walk along the path to where the ashtrays are.

“Brrrr. I’m freezing!” Laura exclaims, hugging her shoulders. Her tiny clothes aren’t exactly protective from the climate.

“You should have brought your jacket,” I comment, lighting the end of my cigarette. I take a quick drag and blow out the smoke.

I place my cigarette on the edge of the ashtray and remove my jacket and place it around her shoulders. “There.”

“Thanks, Jer.”

I pick up my cigarette and take a long drag. As I turn to blow the smoke out in the opposite direction of Laura, I’m caught off guard by what’s practically in front of me—and cough it all out instead.