The front living room had been cleared of its picture frames, knickknacks, and creepy porcelain dolls, which usually peered out from glass cases in the corners — an obsession of Millie’s mother’s. The lights had been dimmed so low that the features of anyone standing more than two feet away were foggy and indiscernible, and the leather couches and upholstered armchairs were pushed back against the wall. Above the fireplace, a fifty-inch TV was blaring music through surround-sound speakers.
“Where’s Dom?” I asked, ignoring the dull ache in the balls of my feet.
“He’s not coming.” Millie’s face crumpled, but she waved her explanation away as though it didn’t matter. “I haven’t heard from him since our date. He didn’t even return my text.”
“I’m sorry, Mil!” I shouted above the music. “That sucks!”
“It’s fine,” she returned loftily, but I could tell it wasn’t. She had been hopelessly obsessed with Dom after their date, and the fact that he hadn’t bothered to follow it up was strange, not to mention incredibly rude.
“I hope it’s not because of me,” I suddenly realized, feeling the color drain from my bronzed and blushed face. “Maybe Nic said something to him.”
Millie’s expression soured. “If it is because of you, then Dom is as spineless as his brother and they should both be shunned for judging you for your father’s accident. I don’t want to be with someone like that anyway!”
“It’s his loss,” I offered, feeling her anger ignite my own. “He’s an idiot.”
“They both are! I hope they have a really boring time styling their stupid hair and overspending on their stupid Italian clothes while they all grow old together in that creepy mansion!” Millie threw her head back and started swaying her hips, putting an end to the topic of Dom and his brothers for good.
Following her lead, I closed my eyes and let my body melt into the music. But deep down in my private bubble, I couldn’t help but imagine Nic’s hands around my waist; that he had shown up to apologize for his strange behavior and that there was a reasonable explanation for his sudden callousness. But when I opened my eyes and twirled around again, I saw a collection of faces I didn’t recognize, all red-faced and panting.
After a while, my feet started to throb. I stopped dancing and slipped through the double doors that led into a large marble-fitted kitchen. Inside, a bunch of guys were leaning around a keg, chugging their drinks. At the table, two skinny brunettes in short skirts were squealing their way through a game of beer pong.
I squeezed by a red-haired girl who was inking a henna tattoo on her friend’s back, and made my way toward the fridge just as Alex slammed his beer cup across the counter and backed away from his friends with his arms up in victory. “Losers!” he shouted. “You can’t beat the champ!”
I smiled. Alex had been so uptight at the basketball tournament; it was nice to see him in a lighter mood — even if he was still being abnormally competitive.
When his eyes fell on me, he stuffed his hands down by his sides and hunched his shoulders, adopting a sheepish expression. “Beer?” he offered, gesturing at the keg behind him. “Or we have some harder stuff, too?”
I pushed the matted hair away from my forehead, feeling beads of sweat underneath my fingers. “Maybe later,” I said. I was already having a hard time standing up in my heels. I figured I better practice some more before adding alcohol to the mix.
“You sure you don’t want one?” Alex prompted with a smile that I used to daydream about in school. But something was different now.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” I opened the fridge, pulled out a can of Diet Coke, and cracked it open while the boys behind me laughed among themselves. I wondered if they were laughing at me, but I was too chicken to confront them about it. Feeling myself blush, I moved away and shimmied past the girl with red hair, who was inking a dolphin on her own hip now. A Ping-Pong ball soared past my head and bounced off the marble island in the middle of the kitchen.
I made it back to the living room in one piece, squeezed by a couple who were making out against the door, and danced around someone doing the worm, to get to the nearest couch. When I reached it, I found Millie chatting to Paul and Alison from the diner.
“… and then I thought, whatever, I’m going to have fun without him — hey, birthday girl, come sit.” She patted the sliver of space beside her.
“Hey.” I squeezed in between Millie and the armrest, feeling instant relief in the balls of my feet. “When did you guys get here?” I followed Millie’s gaze to Alison’s lap and saw that she and Paul were holding hands. They had obviously made it official.
“Just now. Ursula let us off early.”
“Happy birthday, Sophie,” Paul added cheerily. “Great party.”
“Thanks.” I shrugged. “It’s not mine. I don’t know most of these people.”
“Oh, sure it is,” Millie interjected, waving her hand dismissively. “And if Alex’s friends didn’t know you before tonight, then they definitely will now, thanks to that dress.” She drained her drink and sighed satisfactorily.
“Yeah,” Paul agreed, causing Alison to dig her nails into his lap. “Ouch!” he yelped. “Sorry, I was just saying.”
“Time for a refill, I think.” Millie sprang to her feet and sauntered through the parting crowd with more attitude than Beyoncé. I envied her ability to walk so effortlessly in her heels without experiencing the urge to lie down and chop her feet off.