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“Come on,” Alice begged, “just let me meet Abel and then we can leave.”
You sighed. You weren’t opposed to jumping up and down to medically unsound (pun intended) volumes of electronic music, but this wasn’t that type of party. Instead, sweaty frat boys competed in games of beer pong to impress girls in cheetah print miniskirts, or opted to make out on the couches finely coated with cheeto dust. The entire place smelled like vomit, a strange haziness in the air probably courtesy of the various e-cigs rotating between partygoers.
Yeah, home sounded like heaven on earth right about now, but Alice was reckless and you were loyal. Not to mention that her older brother was a well known drug supplier, so unfortunately, she had a direct link to every college-wide bad decision. Even so, you knew better than to abandon her, decidedly sticking around to be her chaperone and designated driver.
“I don’t know sis,” you muttered, then tilted your direction in the direction in the direction of some random albino guy who was groping a brunette woman with a ferocity like squeezing a stress ball. It looked painful. “Wow. That is certainly a pleasant sight to behold.”
Alice followed your gaze, then smiled as if the whole ordeal was more heartwarming than horrifying. “Oh, that’s Elizabeta and Gilbert, from Professor Beilschmidt’s class. You remember them, don’t you? They’re pretty cute together.”
You pressed your lips together. “Hm.”
She turned back to face you, beaming with delight, completely and utterly stoned. You did your best not to roll your eyes when the couple found their way onto the floor in the midst of consuming each others’ faces behind her.
“You stay right here, I’ll be right back! Abel said he was going to introduce me to one of his cute friends,” she whispered loudly, wiggling her eyebrows, then leaned in closer. “The Asian one, do you remember?”
You smiled at her in a manner you hoped was encouraging, although you had no idea who she was talking about. “Oh, yeah! That guy!”
Alice sauntered away, a little off balance in her green stilettos. You backed up into the window behind you, turning around to stare off into the dark. Oh yes, you were going to become that brooding partygoer who stood in a corner by herself, and you didn’t regret it one bit.
You slid the window open before perching yourself on the windowsill. It was a skinny window, but wide enough for you to sit comfortably with your knees pulled up your chest. Closing your eyes, you let the cold air of the gorgeous summer night wash over your skin. It felt cleansing after hanging around the grimy house for so long.
The moon was a beautiful circle in the sky. It looked like someone had poked a hole into a sheet of black paper and shined a white light through it. You squinted up at it for a moment, wondering why the sky around the moon wasn’t also streaked with light.
“If you’re trying to look mysterious and interesting by sitting in this corner, it’s working,” someone said, and you turned towards the source of intrusion with a sinking feeling.
Before you stood a boy with olive skin, deep forest green eyes overshadowed with damp brown hair, and a wide smile, complete with a set of dimples. Oh, he was certainly beautiful, but beauty meant nothing at parties like these. Actually, yes it did. It meant: cover your drink.
You knew it wouldn’t be convincing for you to disagree, so you opted for sarcasm.
“Oh yes, I fled to this corner to escape and accidentally won a stranger’s heart in the process. This is all going according to plan.”
The boy chuckled, his smile never fading for an instance. If he recognized your pessimism, he didn’t show it.
“You are Alice’s friend, yes?” he asked, and you noticed a hint of a Spanish accent curling around his Rs and vowels. Damn, you were a sucker for Spanish accents.
“Yep,” you replied, holding out your hand cordially. “Nice to meet you.”
“Antonio,” he introduced himself, taking your hand delicately, like you were a princess instead of an undergraduate student on loans, before pressing his lips to the back of your hand. “A pleasure.”
His breath was warm on your knuckles, and you blinked in surprise.
“I’ve never seen anyone do that, ever,” you admitted despite yourself, “let alone at a college frat party.”
He laughed again, letting your hand slip out of his with an elegance that felt incredibly out of place. His charisma was dangerous.
“You say it like you would rather be anywhere else,” he said, as if your distain wasn’t transparent enough in your hounding the window in solitude.
Sighing, you shrugged. “Frankly, this party is ass.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Ass, you say?”
The way he said it made you laugh. “Yeah, I’ve never been to a worse party in my life. Which is not saying much, considering I don’t really party often, but I’d be surprised if this wasn’t rock bottom.”
He looked incredibly amused at your criticisms, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the wall by the window, facing you. “It is quite awful, isn’t it?”
You sighed in relief once he expressed agreement. “It is. Though not every party in Ibiza is gonna feel like an Avicci song.”
“Naturally,” he said, then looked past you at the moon you had just been staring at. “She is beautiful tonight.”
“She?”
“Yes. La luna is a she.”
You followed his gaze, then tossed him a cheeky smile. “Are you going to turn that into a pickup line somehow?”
He leaned in a little bit, returning your smile with a smirk of his own. “Are you trying to say you are as beautiful as the moon? That is... how do you say... narcissistic, yes?”
You chortled at that. Oh no, this stranger was starting to win you over. It didn’t help that the moonlight cast a pale glow against his warm skin, making him look a little bit like a glazed donut.
“What would you say if I said I was? As beautiful as the moon, I mean?”
He pondered this, still leaning in towards you, but playing it off as if he was just getting a better look out the window. “Hm, I would have to say I agree.”
He glanced sideways at you and winked, and you felt your face heat. You were ready to change the subject, to play it off as if the interaction never happened, when Alice bounded back towards you, cheeks tinted bright pink.
“Oh. My. Gosh. Bestie, I have to tell you-“ she started, then upon seeing Antonio, squealed in delight. “I see you’ve met our host!”
Our... what.
“No,” you muttered weakly.
“Oh, yes,” she crooned, oblivious to the look of horror that passed over your face.
You glanced at Antonio. He was staring at the floor, making an obvious effort to suppress a smile.
He was the host and he let you ramble on and on like an idiot.
“I- I’m so sorry,” you said, and you meant it. You felt horrible. “The party isn’t that bad. I was just exaggerating.”
His green eyes met yours, the corners permanently crinkling them into playful crescents. “Don’t apologize, you weren’t. I am aware it is awful... I myself did not want to host this party.”
“Aww, why is that?” Alice asked, clasping her hands together behind her back.
Antonio shrugged. “Lovi likes these kinds of things. I cannot find it in myself to say no when he asks.” He paused, looking up into the corner thoughtfully. “I myself prefer fiestas of the more... elegant type.”
You still felt like an idiot, studying your shoes while doing your best to ignore the embarrassment that settled into your stomach.
As if Antonio could read your mind, he gently placed a hand over yours.
“I promise, you did not offend me. It smells like a football locker room in here,” he reassured you, his smile smoothly transitioning from teasing to comforting.
You wondered what he would look like without his smile. You couldn’t even picture it.
Still bubbling with excitement after likely meeting that “cute Asian guy”, Alice beamed. “I can’t wait to tell you about Abel’s friend on the way home,” she said cheerfully.
“I can’t wait to hear it,” you replied.
You let your friend loop her arm around yours as you pulled your other hand out from under Antonio’s. Patting the back pocket of your jeans in a routine check for your keys and wallet, you glanced up at his face.
“Thanks for keeping me company,” you said, refusing to admit to yourself that you felt kind of... disappointed to be leaving.
“Of course,” he said softly, smile still plastered to his face. Something in him seemed to reflect your disappointment, however.
...
To hell with it.
“¿Me das tu teléfono?” you asked, summoning one of the few Spanish phrases you knew off the top of your head. Can I have your phone number?
He lit up at that, his puppy-like energy flooding into his features again.
“Sí. Con mucho gusto.”