No way in hell am I doing this. ...Maybe I should reiterate this to them, not myself.

"No way in hell am I doing this."

"Don't be such a pussy, Caleb." That was Krissy, the bitch. She never liked me. Of course, I did tell her she was a mindless whore that one time... Oh 's not my fault she's a mindless whore.

"Yeah, come on!" Dean, the traitor. My 'best friend'­-- this is not best friend behavior. He's only agreeing because it was his precious girlfriend, the slut's, idea. I scowl at her.

"Fuck this, I hate parties and you know it!" I said that a bit too loud, I suppose. People walking in have stopped to stare. I give them a friendly smile, then flip them the bird. "I'm going home." I turn to march off toward home.

"How?" I stop, that son-of-a... Dean's driving us.

"Fuck!" More staring.

The slut gives me a triumphant look, not that I think she'd know what that meant. Triumphant is a big word, I doubt they use that in the shows she watches. I stick my tongue out at her. It's childish, but it makes me feel better.

She smiles and begins to walk into the house. Music is pounding out and you can hear the drunken teens yelling their conversations over the music. I do not want to be in there. My friend turn and gives me a pleading look. I crack.

"You know, some days, I hate you." I walk in, though.

I look around inside the house, it's just like I thought it would be. It's loud and packed with drunks and everything reeks of alcohol. I almost gag as one of the guys in the next room hurls.

How can this be fun?

A guy offers me a drink as I walk by. I decline; this sucks enough without being hung over tomorrow morning.

I tug on my shirt, feeling overdressed. They hadn't told me where we were going, so I'd put on a long-sleeved black shirt and a pair of cargo pants. I'm regretting that now. It's hot-- what with the house being full of drunks.

And now I've been abandoned. Fuckers. The traitor and the slut, nowhere in sight. Fuck.

So, now I'm alone, wandering around someone I've never met's house, trying to avoid stepping in vomit. A real fun night. Just as I'm getting to the real meat of my ranting, I run headfirst into someone. Dazed, I look up.

Oh God, maybe this wasn't a total failure... He's gorgeous, green eyes and brown hair, tied back in a pony tail. He looks like one of those artist types. "Oh, shit! I'm sorry, I was just..." I trail off, quite distracted by... his...

I think I swoon. He sure gives me an odd look. He opens his mouth to say something, shit he looks angry. Well, of course he looks angry, I just ran into him... Fuck!

I dash off, looking like a complete coward. Oh fucking well, at least I'm out of there.

I'm hiding in the bathroom now, curled up against the wall, hiding. I'm such a pussy. Shit, the slut was right! I suck at social situations, I never should have come here.

It's cold and I hate the feel of tile against my back. I don't leave, though-- what if he's still here? God, this sucks so much.

I sit for a while, before someone finally needs to use the toilet and kicks me out. I'm twitchy for a few seconds, but I don't see Green-eyes. I'm kind of disappointed. What? He was hot.

I leave, hitching a ride home with Andy, who is a much better friend than Dean, and he's even sober.

I think about my night and I feel ashamed.

Time at the party: 5 minutes.

Time spent hiding in the bathroom: 45 minutes.

Fuck, I'm such a coward.