You pushed through the crowd, two cups of punch sloshing in your hands. The bitter-sweet smell of cheap alcohol and perfume hung thick in the air.

You'd been gone maybe three minutes. Just long enough to get them both refills.

You spotted Billy by the staircase. His leather jacket was off, white t-shirt clinging to his chest under the strobing lights.

Then you saw her.

The cups slipped from your fingers. Punch splattered across the floor, splashing someone's sneakers.