blotzed

Her eyes continue to peck at me from across the room. Refusing to take off her puffy, white coat, she circles the room: mammal or fish? I had never hoped for us to be at the same party. Sure, we had mutual friends, common friends, commonalities...stuff, places where we both would be. But it's a new year and who doesn't want to ring in the new year with people you've loved?

Love. I meant love, not loved. Or maybe I meant to say what I did actually say, which is that I loved her. Wait, what? The room is filling up. I need another beverage. One with less bubbles and more beer. She's gonna see my wimpy, plastic champagne glass and think I'm silly. Did she get a haircut? It looks better. Like her hair actually has a shape. Usually it's just a ball of fluff circling her head. Soft, like cotton. It would deaden in the water, though. Instantly flatten against her small head like a thin drapery. but still so soft.

Oh, God, no...I need to walk past Abigail in order to get to the keg. Strikingly beautiful, insecure, No-sense-of-personal-space Abigail. Here she comes, full throttle, her hands already touching my shoulders before I can even fully make out her face.

"JOOOOOOhn", followed by an aggressive hug. The last thing I want to do is mingle with a giant bulge in my pants because the nice, hot girl manhandled me. I'll just have to stay in her grip awhile until everything subsides.

"Abigail, you're intentionally blocking the beer"

"No, I'm the beer maid. Check it out", at which point she flips her two long golden braids behind her and pushes her chest out. Not an easy thing to do, considering we still have zero air density between us. Catching a view of the puffy, white coat behind Abigail, I realize I've been out-maneuvered. Molly turns from the keg and towards me, plastic cup filled to the brim with beery nectar, pursed on her lower lip. I can already smell the empty keg container. Molly's eyes meet mine and I swear to God, they twinkle. She's laughing at me. With her eyes. The luscious beer spills down Molly's throat and I am still embraced by Abigail-empty-keg-maid.

I actually feel my chest tighten up. She hates me. I took the best years of her life, and she, in return, took the last bit of beer. Wait, she's approaching. The only space between us is now filled by an Amazonian, oblivious Abigail. We lock eyes and Molly licks the beer foam off of her upper lip. She takes her cup, now only partially filled, and places it in my hand, that is currently embracing the Amazon.

"Happy New Year", she says, followed by a small hiccup. I watch as the puffy, white coat walks away from me and into the fresh, night air. Still entangled and slowly losing my breath, I continue to hold the cup of beer until someone knocks it out of my hand and across the already sticky floor.