At first I thought Matthew managed to do just fine, he was grinning and waving, looking a lot like a giddy school boy. Then I lost track of him as a bunch of people rushed over to greet him. Frowning I move in that direction, weaving my way through the boisterous throng. Now that the music has started back up they’re even more riled up it seems. The dancers, good and bad, are hopping right along to the beat. Normally I’d be inclined to join in and show off, if I thought I might actually be able to bust a move still, but right now my priority is checking on Matthew.

The waving limbs and nearly unpredictable movements make getting to the edge of the crowd again rather difficult. By the time I get anywhere near where I saw him disappear I don’t see him at all. I scan the nearby faces, but can’t pick him out. He must have gone somewhere else. Did he head to the locker room already? Continuing to glance about in hopes of spotting him, I head that way. I’ll just wait there if I get there before him, it’s really not a big deal unless someone comes looking for me, which I really doubt. The only person who might need me is Vanessa and I’m sure she’s caught up in the celebration along with everyone else.

I finally catch a glimpse of Matthew as he bolts from the crowd into the locker room. Instantly I feel sympathetic toward him, having to deal with all this attention. I was a dancer, I know what it’s like to be under the spotlight and while I didn’t find it unpleasant, it was certainly nerve wracking. If I were him, I’d have run at the first opportunity, too!

Putting on a burst of speed, I try to hurry through the last few clusters of party goers, but one of the stray dancers nearly blindsides me. His last minute half-gasp, half-squeak is all that prevents me from being toppled into and laid out on the floor like a bearskin rug! Reflexively I pivot to avoid him, but the last ditch effort to save myself some embarrassment is sloppily executed. I miss the rambunctious dancer and instead bump into someone else.

“Shit! Watch where the hell you’re going!” Cindy Jameson whirls on me, shaking her sequined blouse in an attempt to get as much of the spilled punch off it as possible. “Where the fuck are you going in such a hurry? Oh for fuck’s sake, get out of my way!”

I try to babble an apology and point her in the direction of the napkins, but she’s so pissed off (and clearly drunk) that I’m pretty sure she doesn’t hear a word that comes out of my mouth. Exasperated she throws her hands in the air, slinging what’s left of her fruit punch and leaving a string of rather vile curse words as she stomps off.

Knowing I’m probably gonna hear about this later, well, if she recognized me that is, I roll my eyes. I take my time crossing the last few feet to the locker room, deciding it’s best not to risk anymore accidents.

Back in high school I never would have gone into this room. I wouldn’t have wanted to! I was too focused on my studies and doing everything my mother wanted me to do. I didn’t have time to goof around. Tonight though, I’m an adult and school is not in session. I shove away the strange feeling that I don’t belong and hurry through the door before I’m delayed any more!

I instantly wish I was sprawled out on the floor in the gym, my head split open, blood gushing everywhere. Hell, I wish I was anywhere except right here in this moment.

Matthew isn’t alone like I thought he would be. He’s not waiting for me come through the door so he can scoop me into his arms and take me to new, amazing heights. He’s pinned against the lockers with a woman draped against him. And it’s not just any woman, it’s that fucking bitch, Betty!

My blood turns to ice in my veins, rooting me to the floor before I can make it any further into the room. All I can do is stare at them, my eyes seeing, but my brain not wanting to comprehend the blatant, foul truth of what’s happening here. The sight of them touching and the image of him putting his cock inside her when it should be in me shatters something inside me.

So many things run through my mind, questions upon questions, all vying and clawing against each other. Has he just been using me, toying with me? I don’t understand, he said I was his! In what world does saying I’m his, not make him mine? Or was everything he told me nothing but a pack of sleazy, filthy lies?

My heart constricts and tears sting my eyes. The only thing that keeps me from being reduced to a sobbing blob on the floor is the flash of seething rage that boils the ice inside me, covering the hurt and anguish. I grasp that furious wave and fix Matthew with the fiercest glare I’m capable of. I don’t give him a chance to say anything, I just shake my head, letting him see my disgust and outrage.

Betty says something to me, but I’m so focused on Matthew that I don’t hear a word she says.

“Have fun with your whore,” I snarl, “we’re done.” Turning on my heel, I storm out of the locker room without a backward glance.

I don’t know how long this hateful fire inside of me is going to last so I hurry through the ongoing celebration, dodging people when I can, shoving them out of the way if I have to. The only thing running through my mind right now is the need to be alone before my anger runs out and I’m left with nothing but tears.