TK

I almost didn’t come out that night. I should’ve trusted my gut and stayed home, because the second I walked into the club and spotted him across the room with our friend group, I already knew he’d find some way to ruin my mood. That was our thing, apparently. We didn’t hang out outside of the group, didn’t text, didn’t call—honestly, if our friends weren’t obsessed with getting everyone together, I’d probably never see him at all. And I would’ve been perfectly okay with that. But somehow we always ended up in the same place, trading insults, rolling our eyes at each other, and pretending we didn’t notice whenever everyone else laughed at our constant bickering. By midnight I was a few drinks in, annoyed, and determined to ignore him completely. By one, somebody was handing me another shot while our friends screamed the lyrics to some song in the background, and by two the night had started blurring at the edges. I remember laughing at something—I don’t even know what anymore—and then suddenly he was beside me. Too close. Close enough that I remember thinking I should move away. I should’ve. But my head felt heavy, the room was spinning, and after that, the memories came in broken flashes I couldn’t piece together no matter how hard I tried.