Drunk me was fun. She laughed, she was at ease, warmer than I often let myself be. She made mistakes, too.

The crowd on the dance floor around me was sweaty, rhythmic. I clutched Connor closely, pulled him to the side, shielding myself from Avery’s eyes.

“I have to tell you something,” Connor said.

“What’s that?” I pulled away, commanded his eyes.

“I like you.”

He avoided my eyes, something rare for him. Perhaps he was afraid of what he would see rejected in my blue eyes and soul.

He continued, “I like you so much. I’m actually excited for our future. I think we have one.”

Words didn’t come to me. I had been sensing Connor’s attachment to me. Despite only hanging out for a few weeks I could tell he really liked me. I had been hesitant, careful to seem cool, still. He was warm and I wasn't sure I wanted to be thawed just yet.

“Oh yeah?” It was a dumb response, but I didn’t know what to say. I’m excited for our future too? That would be a lie. I didn’t even know if we had one.

My body was humming. The bar felt smaller than it had before. Avery had a gravitational pull and I wasn’t immune to it. I wanted him still. I didn’t care that he was married. That he was about to become a father. I knew I had no chance with him, but I just wanted something to hold onto. Some clue that he missed me. That he regretted letting me go. That he wished the child growing in his wife's belly was in mine instead. I knew it was sick to hope for those things. But this discarded feeling was too much. I was buckling underneath it.

We finished our dance, no more words said. My silly two-word response was not what he was looking for. After we separated, I went back to the birthday party space and watched as the twins blew out candles. Connor went to the bar and I could feel tomorrow’s regret in my throat. The mania was creeping in. Vodka had opened the door.

I took a seat on the outskirts of our crowd. Lesley was ignoring me when Connor wasn’t around. She hated me free, on the loose. She didn’t want me near Avery. I found her glaring at me once when I was five or six feet from where he was standing. I turned away and rolled my eyes at the ceiling. I hoped Danielle would forgive me soon, warm to me. I needed another friend. I wasn't sure I deserved her forgiveness though. She would be giving Connor a better chance than I was. She wasn’t hanging by an invisible thread from an ex who no longer loved her.

When the singing and candle blowing was over I walked to the edge, to the railing disconnecting us from the dance floor. I spotted Connor at the bar, talking to a friend. I couldn't socialize here without him or a drink in my hand, without a crutch. I felt an arm brush the bare skin of my back and turned to see Avery walking by me. He trailed his long fingers along the railing I was gripping. At the end he turned, walked on to the dance floor, holding my eyes. I couldn't see the green of his eyes through the distance. He didn't smile and neither did I.

“Fuck,” I mouthed, feeling his eyes still on me. I scanned the room, locking in on my prey. A shot girl was making the rounds, a tray held high above her head as she made her way through the crowd. My short legs burned as I left the party and walked into the throng of sweaty bodies. I searched the pockets of my denim skirt until I found my stashed cash.

“Two please!” I shouted over the music when I found her. I made short work of the shots and tossed the empty plastic glasses into her hand.

The dance floor was black, neon, heated. I squeezed between couples, drunk men, drunk women. Avery was in the center of the crowd, chatting with some guy I didn’t recognize. He caught sight of me, ended his conversation, and walked around the guy.

“What,” he said flatly; it was not a question, it was a weapon.

“What do you mean what?” The tone of my voice was unnatural. I hadn't heard it since the Thursday before he dropped me. It was an anger I reserved just for him.

“Well, you came all the way out here to say something. That’s pretty obvious.”

“Nice to see you’re still a dick." This was a mistake. How could I be so careless, such a masochist. I both hated and loved him.

“Nice to see you're still into that.” He smiled, all teeth and wrinkles around his eyes. His mouth was too big for his face, too big for the room.

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, I know you’d love to.”

“Hardly.”

“Then why have you been eye-fucking me all night?”

“I haven’t.” Lie. What a damn lie. I thought I had kept it hidden.

“How’s it going with Connor?” He brought his drink to his mouth, let his eyes linger on my throat.

“Why does it matter to you?” I wanted this. His jealousy. I craved it, the burn there.

“It doesn’t. That guy is a tool.” That would only make me want him more. What a foolish thing to say.

"You know what, I don’t know why I came out here. I have been choking on all sorts of shit I’ve wanted to say to you for months now. But now, with you in front of me, I don’t see why. You’re a condescending prick, and you'll never change.” I could see it here. So plainly. When I wasn't in his presence I built him up. Made him this beautiful thing, this beautiful man, that made me happy. But he hadn't. If he had, we would have worked out. My mind and body betrayed me. It convinced me we could have made it work.

"What's that make you? You still want me.”

"No, I feel sorry for Wendy.” And it was true.

“You want to be Wendy, and this is boring.” He scanned the crowd, looking for someone else to talk to.

"Fuck you," I repeated, wanting to slap him. He had made sure I would come find him.

"Just say what you came out here to say."

"Why do you do this to me? Why do I still want you?" I didn't know if I was asking him, or my traitorous heart. The unflinching bitch beating in my chest.

"I told you." Three words. Three damning words, so true.

"I’m still in love with you, okay! Are you happy now?! I don't want to be. Not after everything you did. After the way you humiliated me. I want it to go away but it won’t. I hope you're happy with your new life, because I can’t have one of my own. You stole it from me." I wouldn't let myself cry, despite the way my cells were crying out. I was so angry, so red. My neck felt flushed, scorching.

His face darkened. I saw genuine regret there. We were both quiet, thinking about the summer before.

“I’m sorry, Gwen. Seriously. I am.” His voice was different. So close to the tender one he would use in bed with me. When we would talk about our days. When we would talk about our goals and hopes for our future.

He reached for my hand but I pulled away. “Don’t worry about it. Just be happy with the kid you’re going to have. I think you’ll be a great father. I really do.” I pushed into the crowd, away from him, into the waves of bodies. Away from the way his eyes felt on me. Away from the waves of regret that would pour off of me if I looked at him a second more.