I've never fucked up so royally in my life. I doubt I'll ever hear from Connor again, not after Saturday night. He didn’t text me after he left yesterday morning. And he said we should probably cool it when he woke up in the morning. We had only been hanging out for around three weeks. It shouldn’t hurt this much. He shouldn't be that hurt. I know he is though. I could tell by the way he looked at me when we were together. The way he laughed. He was the kind of guy who kept his laughs inside. He would smirk when you told him a joke. His sense of humor was so dry, so unlike mine. Mine was juvenile, idiotic. I like his humor more than mine. Maybe I am too much like a sponge. Avery’s humor was crass, lazy. I had absorbed too much of him. Lost myself in his personality, so loud and colorful. He left me grey and desolate, and I let him ruin what Connor and I had started. No way am I hearing from him again. And I don’t deserve to. You can’t help how you feel but you can help how you act. I want to stop acting like a god damn train wreck.

Santiago Bar and Grille was our group’s go-to destination for birthday parties. I heard the whispers in our group weeks before the night of the party. Avery had been invited.

Lesley said his name around me casually at work. As if it wasn’t a knife in my gut. My semi-relationship with Connor was her green light.

Since I was sort of dating someone, I should be okay with hearing his name thrown around like confetti. I shouldn’t be pissed that she was talking about her boyfriend’s best friend in front of me, but I knew her. We were too alike. She was never skilled at being fake, at hiding her intent. She wanted to wound me.

I questioned our friendship more often than I would have liked, but I was stuck. Ending a friendship with a coworker was just a pain in the ass. I hated my shitty job as it was, why piss off someone who was clearly on the fast track to management? Better to grin and bear it.

I did one better. I planned the party with her. I even told Lesley what I would be wearing that night. And she showed up wearing the exact same thing. I chalked it up to the fact that she had a twin and her other half was going to college out of state. Maybe she needed that crutch. It still made my skin crawl.

Santiago’s had a reserved space for parties. Lesley and I arrived an hour earlier to decorate for her boyfriend and his brother, also a twin.

Connor had to work late and would be showing up a few hours after the party had started, most likely when things were picking up. Lesley told everyone to show up at seven. A little early, in my opinion, but it was her boyfriend’s shindig. I didn’t protest. Instead, I started drinking.

Avery showed up with his new wife, Wendy. She was eight months pregnant, all belly and long legs, spindly arms. He picked a woman completely opposite of me. I stayed clear of them while she was there. My laughs were embarrassing, louder in decimal than normal. A little desperate.

After an hour Wendy left, and Avery was on his own. I had forgotten how loud he was. He was a damn peacock. His walk wasn’t like other men’s. He strutted, demanded attention.

I saw Lesley beaming at him from across the space reserved for the party. His hands waved in the air as he told his story. She reached out and touched his arm, and I had to look away. Sometimes I felt sorry for Lesley. I couldn’t imagine being in a relationship with someone and wanting to fuck every other guy in sight.

The hair on the back of my neck prickled as I looked away. I felt fingertips on my elbow and turned to find Connor smiling at me. I reached for him, going up on tiptoe, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too.” His voice was warm, inviting. The greeting wasn’t normal for us. We weren’t quite that familiar with each other yet, but I had two glasses of cranberry and vodka in my belly. I was warm and tingly, sadness filled my lungs like a poison. I wanted to feel good. I wanted Connor to make me feel good. When I pulled away, I looked into his eyes. His energy was nervous and it fed into mine. An evening of lies and pretending wasn’t promising; we both knew what was in store. Or maybe it was just me, and I was desperate for the mirror.

“Do you need another drink?” He motioned to my hand, an empty glass clutched in my fingers.

“Yeah. Sure.” I should probably slow down, but I needed a numbness. I caught his eyes again, the feeling of fret I had seen before was gone, maybe never there. I walked to the railing that separated our area from the dance floor. Everyone I knew at the party was surrounding Avery. I watched Connor’s figure disappear into the crowd. The bar was packed, the hour nearly ten. I spun around and stared at my platform wedges, my legs crossed at the ankle.

I never wore skirts. A lifetime of hating my legs made me hide them. When I was twelve, a kid on the bus made fun of the fact that I wasn’t shaving yet. My mom had been strict about when I was allowed to use a razor. So I started wearing pants even on the hottest days. Then I started to become curvy, a new obstacle was thrown at me. The most popular girls were tall and leggy, like Wendy.

I was 5’2”. Stumpy. When Avery and I were together, we both started going to the gym one year, after the new year. Like many, we were caught up in the frenzy of fitness. I was proud of myself for sticking to our routine. One day I texted him to let him know I had lost a few pounds, dropping down to 106. He told me that was great but I still had work to do. 106 pounds and I still had work to do.

I stared down at my knees. Always something I hid, now out in clear view. I was 101 pounds now. When Avery kicked me out, I stopped eating. I dropped down to ninety-five pounds. Some part of me wondered if he would have wanted me like that. Lesley told me Wendy had confessed that Avery told her she had a schedule to stick to after the baby came. One for losing the weight. All I saw was belly and baby when I looked at her earlier. It was pretty inconvenient to feel sorry for someone you hated.

I glanced at the crowd surrounding Avery, finally reunited with the friends I had supposedly stolen from him. His eyes flickered my way, skittering across my legs, my cleavage, my red cheeks. I pushed off the railing and walked to a vacant table, out of view. I wanted his stare but burned beneath it.

Connor came back with my drink and his a few minutes later. He was smiling again. I loved the beauty of it. The simplicity of his desire for me. I rose from my seat, took my drink, kissed him. It was a brand. You are mine, I am yours. It was false, for show maybe, but I wanted it to be real.