THE PARTY: FRIDAY NIGHT
The off campus apartment belonged to someone's older cousin who had money and no sense. Three bedrooms, a balcony that overlooked the main road, and a sound system that vibrated the floorboards like a second heartbeat. The walls were the color of old nicotine; the furniture was a collection of mismatched couches that had seen better decades. The air smelled like cheap gin, expensive perfume, and the sweat of sixty bodies pressed together.
The party had started at nine. By eleven, it was a riot.
Aaron stood near the kitchen, a bottle of water in his hand, watching the room spin. He didn't drink; he didn't smoke; he didn't do any of the things that would make him forget. He needed to remember everything. That was his curse.
Vicky was beside him, her hand on his lower back, her body pressed against his side. She was wearing a red dress; his favorite, the one that made her look like something out of a dream. Her hair was down, falling in waves over her shoulders. She smelled like coconut oil and something floral; jasmine, maybe.
"You're quiet tonight," she said, her lips close to his ear.
"I'm always quiet."
"You're always watching. There's a difference."
He looked down at her. Her eyes were the color of honey in sunlight; warm, patient, seeing too much. "What do you want me to say?"
"I want you to dance with me."
"I don't dance."
"You do tonight."
She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the makeshift dance floor. The music was loud; a Burna Boy track that made the bass thump in his chest. Vicky moved against him, her hips swaying, her arms around his neck. He let himself be pulled; let himself forget, for a moment, that he was supposed to be watching.
For a moment, he was just a boy with a beautiful girl, and the world was small and safe.
THE CATFIGHT
Zuru had been watching them all night.
She stood by the balcony door, a cup of something strong in her hand, her eyes fixed on Vicky's red dress. The way Vicky touched Aaron. The way Aaron smiled at Vicky. The way the world seemed to bend around them, leaving Zuru in the cold.
She was tired of being cold.
"Zuru, don't," Ese said from behind her. Ese had appeared out of nowhere, as she always did; quiet, watchful, impossible to shake.
"Don't what?"
"Don't do what you're about to do."
"I'm not doing anything."
"You're thinking about doing something. I can see it in your shoulders."
Zuru turned to face her. "You don't know anything about me."
"I know you've been in love with Aaron since the first week of the semester. I know you've tried everything to get his attention. I know you're about to make a scene that you'll regret."
Zuru's jaw tightened. "Then maybe I want to regret something. Maybe I'm tired of being careful."
She walked away before Ese could stop her.
Vicky was getting a drink at the makeshift bar; a folding table covered in bottles and plastic cups. She was alone for the first time all night.
Zuru approached her from behind.
"Vicky."
Vicky turned. Her face was calm, but her eyes were not. "Zuru."
"You look good tonight."
"Thank you."
"That dress. Is it new?"
"Does it matter?"
Zuru stepped closer. Close enough to smell Vicky's perfume. Close enough to see the small scar above her eyebrow. "Everything matters, Vicky. Every little thing."
"Is there something you want to say to me?"
Zuru smiled. It was not a nice smile. "I want to say that you don't deserve him. You've never deserved him. You're just the girl who got lucky, and one day your luck is going to run out."
Vicky set down her cup. Her voice was low; steady; dangerous. "Say that again."
"You heard me."
The room didn't go quiet. Parties don't do that outside of movies. But the people closest to them stopped talking. Heads turned. Phones came out.
Vicky moved first.
She grabbed Zuru by the hair; a fistful of braids, yanking her head back. Zuru screamed. Vicky pulled her down, and Zuru's knees hit the floor with a crack.
"Oh, that's it, bitch," Zuru hissed. "You're getting it now."
She swung wildly, catching Vicky on the jaw. Vicky staggered but didn't let go. She dragged Zuru across the floor, past a group of shocked freshmen, past a table that tipped over and spilled drinks everywhere. Someone cheered. Someone else shouted "Fight! Fight!"
Aaron was there in seconds, pulling Vicky off. Oliver was there too, grabbing Zuru by the arms. The two girls were separated, panting, bleeding; Vicky's lip was split, Zuru's nose was streaming red.
"You're dead," Zuru spat. "You hear me? Dead."
Vicky wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Try me."
Aaron dragged her away, through the crowd, out the back door. The night air hit them like a cold slap.
"What the fuck, Vicky?"
"She started it."
"I don't care who started it. You can't do that. Her uncle is on the board. She can get you expelled."
Vicky pulled away from him. Her eyes were wild; her chest was heaving. "Then maybe I don't care about being expelled. Maybe I'm tired of her touching you. Maybe I'm tired of her texting you. Maybe I'm tired of pretending it doesn't make me want to tear her fucking face off."
Aaron stared at her. This was not the Vicky he knew. This was someone else; someone fiercer, more desperate, more alive.
He kissed her.
Hard. Deep. His hands in her hair, her back against the wall. She kissed him back like she was trying to prove something; like she was trying to claim him in a way that words never could.
When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing hard.
"I love you," she said.
"I know," he said. "I love you too."
But even as he said it, his phone buzzed in his pocket.
Ese (11:47 PM): Now. Behind the humanities building. You need to see this.
He didn't tell Vicky. He couldn't.
OLIVER AND ZIZI: THE BEDROOM
Upstairs, in a bedroom that smelled like sweat and stale air freshener, Oliver had Zizi pinned against the door.
His hands were everywhere; her hips, her thighs, her neck. She was gasping, half laughing, half moaning. Her dress was bunched around her waist. His shirt was already gone.
"Someone could walk in," she whispered.
"Let them."
"You're insane."
"You love it."
She didn't correct him.
He lifted her; her legs wrapped around his waist. He carried her to the bed, laid her down, and kissed her collarbone, her chest, the soft skin below her ear. She arched her back, her fingers tangled in his hair.
"Oliver," she breathed.
"Say my name again."
"Oliver."
He moved lower. The room was hot; the music from downstairs was a distant thrum. The world outside didn't exist. Nothing existed except skin and sweat and the sound of her breathing.
She wanted to feel wanted. He wanted to feel powerful. It was a perfect match.
Neither of them noticed the phone on the nightstand; face down, recording.
Nelly had placed it there an hour ago.
CHARLIE: THE BATHROOM
Charlie locked the door and leaned against the sink.
His hands were shaking. He didn't know why. He hadn't drunk that much. He hadn't done anything. But the room was spinning, and his chest was tight, and he couldn't breathe.
He looked at himself in the mirror. His face was red; his eyes were wet. He was crying. He was always crying these days.
Why can't I be like Oliver? Why can't I be like Wesley? Why can't I just be enough?
He punched the mirror. It didn't break; but his knuckles did. Blood smeared across the glass.
He looked at his hand. The blood was warm. It was real. It was the only thing that felt real.
He started laughing. Then he started crying. Then he did both at the same time, his forehead pressed against the cracked mirror, his body shaking.
No one came to check on him.
No one ever did.
AARON: BEHIND THE HUMANITIES BUILDING
The air was cooler here; away from the bodies, away from the music. The humanities building loomed above him, dark and silent. The asphalt was cracked; weeds grew through the fissures.
Ese was waiting for him in the shadows.
"You're late," she said.
"I had to get away."
"From Vicky?"
"From everyone."
She nodded, as if that made sense. Then she pointed. "Look."
Aaron followed her gaze.
Across the courtyard, near the fire exit, two figures were standing close together. One was tall; broad shoulders, familiar posture. The other was smaller, slighter, her head tilted up.
Oliver and Zizi.
They were talking. Aaron couldn't hear the words; but he could see the way Oliver touched her arm, the way she didn't pull away. The way he leaned down and whispered something in her ear. The way she smiled.
"I told you," Ese said.
Aaron's chest felt hollow. "Why are you showing me this?"
"Because you needed to see it. Because now you know what kind of person Oliver really is. Because maybe, now, you'll stop protecting him."
"I don't protect him."
"You do. You protect everyone. And that's why everything is going to burn."
She walked away, disappearing into the darkness.
Aaron stood alone, watching Oliver and Zizi disappear into the building.
His phone buzzed.
Vicky (12:04 AM): Where are you? I need you.
He didn't reply.
For the first time in his life, he didn't know what to say.
ROSE: THE BALCONY
Rose stood on the balcony, a cigarette between her fingers, watching the chaos below.
She didn't smoke. But she liked the way it looked; the way it made her seem mysterious, untouchable. She was good at seeming.
Wesley joined her, leaning against the railing. "You've been quiet tonight."
"I've been thinking."
"About what?"
She turned to face him. The moonlight caught her face; her sharp cheekbones, her full lips, her eyes that saw too much.
"About you," she said. "About us."
Wesley raised an eyebrow. "Is there an 'us'?"
"There could be. If you want."
He studied her for a long moment. Then he smiled; slow, easy, dangerous. "I want."
He kissed her. She let him. His hands were warm on her waist. His lips were soft. He was a good kisser; not that it mattered.
She was using him. He didn't know it yet. He thought he was the one in control.
That was the thing about Wesley; he always thought he was the smartest person in the room.
He was wrong.
NELLY: THE PARKING LOT
Nelly sat in her car, the door closed, the windows up. The recording played through her headphones.
Oliver's voice. Zizi's moans. The bed creaking.
She listened to the whole thing. Every second. Every sound.
When it was over, she took off the headphones and stared at the dashboard.
She didn't cry. She didn't scream. She just sat there, perfectly still, her hands in her lap.
Then she picked up her phone and typed a message.
Nelly (12:34 AM): I know everything.
She sent it to Oliver.
Then she sent it to Zizi.
Then she started the car and drove away.