She lived right off campus with her boyfriend. Just two years out of college and they were living like adults. That's how it seemed to me at least. Two dogs, neighbors pushing 40, a pool in their building. They cooked and drank wine that wasn’t purchased at Trader Joes and owned a really nice vacuum. They had invited me over for New Years. It was going to be a low key party with some of our friends from work. I was looking forward to it because it sounded cute and nonthreatening. Something fun to do on my least favorite holiday. This was before uber in Los Angeles, so I offered to drive a few others who were coming from the west side. I wore a dress that my mom had bought me from Free People a few months prior. Turns out it was technically lingerie. I learned this years later. This wasn’t the first time she had done this. My memory of the party is a little blurry despite being practically sober that night. I remember there was fondue. I remember we weren’t all on our phones. I remember my shoes were severely uncomfortable. I tripped a few times on the carpet. I almost broke a lamp. I remember regretting the red wine. My lips were purple three sips in. I remember my phone lighting up from your message. Had someone we know told you I had developed a pathetic crush? Or had I made it that obvious? You were at the front steps of the building before I could thoroughly overanalyze. Why would you have left your party full of “athletes” and I’m assuming a bunch of other really hot people to come here? My party was just what I needed but objectively yours was the preferred choice. Mine had a man well into his 40s feeding his teacup Pomeranian. Surely you were mistaken.
