All characters are above the age of 18 unless otherwise specified.
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Long distance sucked.
Dylan hated it.
She had never gone more than three weeks without seeing her boyfriend Ethan before, and it had now been over three months.
They'd been together since eighth grade, knew each other backwards and forwards, worked perfectly together, won "best couple" senior superlative.
Five years later and it was freshman year of college. They had talked it over at length during senior year of high school, but Dylan was at a private school ten states away, and Ethan stayed at their local state school.
It was tough. The distance, the time zone difference, the loneliness. Dylan's heart ached, constantly. She wondered sometimes if she'd made the right decision. If she wouldn't have been better off staying at home too, so they could be together.
Sure they texted and facetimed, but it wasn't the same. He wasn't there. She couldn't feel his hugs. Couldn't hear his laugh or his voice without the slight hint of electronic filter. Couldn't feel his body pressed up to hers, on top of hers.
Having the talking aspect was nice, she didn't want to take that for granted. Back before modern technology, they wouldn't have been able to do day recaps or binge shows together at all. She was so grateful they had that. But the physical touch, all the little things. The sex. That's what she missed. That's what could never be replicated.
Ethan was so caring too. They both tried to enjoy themselves as much as they could; he'd told her that he didn't want her not to go to bars or frat parties just because of him. That he trusted her, and wanted her to have a good time.
She had said the same, but it still hurt. When she just wanted to talk, to feel his touch, and he told her to stop texting him and enjoy whatever party she was at.
That's where Dylan found herself two Saturdays before Thanksgiving. She'd be going home in just a week and a half and all the waiting, all the patience, the lust bubbling over, it would all be rewarded.
"Enjoy yourself," Ethan's last text read, three minutes ago. Dylan stared at it in the corner of the frat basement, Chief Keef blowing out her eardrums.
"You too. Love you," she finally responded. Tonight was hurting extra. Dylan wasn't sure if it was how close she was to going home for break, or the three tequila shots she pre-gamed with. And the Whiteclaw in her hand. She always did get horny when she was drunk.
"Miss you," she added. "And your body..." she typed out, but thought better of it. She quickly deleted it, not wanting to come off as too drunk and desperate. Ethan knew. They'd see each other soon.
"Get off your phone girl!!" came the only voice she could hear over "Love Sosa". Kelsey, her roommate.
Dylan turned her head just as she shut off her phone.
"I am!" she screamed back.
"Good! Cus right now you are living in the moment with me! We are getting fucking lit tonight!"
"I'm already pretty lit!" Dylan shouted back, trying to force her party mode out. Kelsey was right next to her, the mob of people crammed into the small basement jostling bodies about. But the music was deafening.
"No!" Kelsey replied, and held up a small baggie. "I mean really lit! Have you met my friend Molly?"
Dylan got a little anxious. She and Ethan took edibles frequently near the end of high school, and she'd been drinking for years. But she'd never tried ecstasy before. Anything beyond weed. She had to admit, it was a little tempting. The name was "ecstasy" after all.
And Ethan had said to enjoy herself. This might pull our her party side and make her actually follow his command. The sweaty bodies crashing into each other, the strobe LEDs, the Kid Cudi that had just started playing. This could be fun.
"Okay!" Dylan shouted back. Her job was to have fun tonight. Ethan told her so, her roommate wanted her to. And she wasn't going to let them down.
Kelsey and Dylan both popped a pill at the same time, Dylan downing it with the last of her Whiteclaw.
"Well?" Kelsey asked after a minute or two.
Dylan waited for a moment. She didn't notice anything. The lights felt more intense, but she wasn't sure if that was just a placebo effect.
"I don't know. I feel fine!"
"It takes a bit! Let's dance, we'll see!"
"Okay!" Dylan shouted. Kelsey was in control tonight evidently. This was more her scene anyway. Dylan had never been able to truly let go and have a fun night yet. Ethan was always in her mind, reminding her that no matter how much fun she was having, there was always a place she'd rather be.
But tonight, she wasn't letting herself be controlled by that anymore. Kelsey and her synthetic friend Molly were in the driver's seat. And as Dylan melted into the crowd, all jumping and singing along to "Mr. Brightside," she felt her stress and anxiety melt away a little bit. Felt all the tension and anticipation of being home and seeing Ethan soon slowly erode. Just enjoyed the moment.
She didn't realize she was high until almost half an hour later. Dylan found herself at the center of the mob. She'd lost Kelsey. Being a frat party, she was surrounded mostly by girls, lots of faces she didn't recognize.
Everything felt like it was vibrating. Dylan felt
really
good. Better than she could remember. The music, the people, the vibes. There was no place she'd rather be right now.
But her hands were empty. She needed a drink. Fuck Kelsey, she'd find her later.
Dylan edged her way through the crowd, past jumping girls wearing very little clothing, past one of the brothers making out with a girl, past more bodies. Someone she had a class with said hi. Dylan was almost too out of it to process, but she managed to give a high-pitched "Hi!!" and hugged the girl before keeping towards the edge of the room and the stairs. Another pair making out by the door. Dylan pushed her way past and upstairs, trying to remember where the kitchen was, where the alcohol was.
She made her way upstairs, the entire house feeling like it was alive. More people were upstairs. Not as concentrated of a crowd, but still, a lot of people, more music, more noise. It was all so invigorating. So exciting. The lights were so bright and shiny, the music was reaching down to her soul. All the people, the whole house, was shimmering. Dylan was in heaven.
The alcohol was in the kitchen, and Dylan found herself a bottle of tequila. Her fingers fumbled with the top, trying to get it off, when someone approached her.
"Need help?" the guy asked. He was probably a year or two older; a little scruff on his face, nice brown eyes, sandy hair, strong features. He stood out, and Dylan in her state couldn't help but be struck by him.
"No I've got it," she replied, and popped the top off with one last attempt.
