Editor's note: this story contains scenes of rough, reluctant, dubiously consensual, or non-consensual sex or scenarios.
Amy hated parties. No matter how many times one of her friends insisted she go to one she'd never get the appeal. She'd somehow once again let herself get pressured into coming though. This time Riley had practically dragged her here. Riley had heard from a friend that Ryan might be there, and Ryan was coming for the same reason everyone else was: the Anderson's were out of town for the week, and their son thought the best way to get more popular was to invite people over to drink his dad's beer. Looking around the room, it seemed to be working. Everyone but her seemed to be having a great time. Amy couldn't help but wonder what the cost would be when his parents came back to a house without alcohol but full of mysterious stains. That wasn't her problem though.
Before Riley had managed to get her crush's attention, Amy's only problem was hanging out and pretending to have a good time. They'd only been there an hour before Riley had disappeared with him, leaving Amy to fend for herself. Now Amy's problems had multiplied: she was alone, she barely knew anyone, and since she already told her parents she was going to stay over late at Riley's to study she couldn't just go home. If she came home while they were still awake, they'd ask questions, and Amy wasn't a very good liar. If they really drilled into her story, she'd probably just confess everything.
So she had to endure the thumping rap music and the random guys checking her out while she pretended to have fun for the next couple hours, or until Riley reappeared - whichever came first. It's not like there was much to look at anyway. Amy used her long dark hair to hide her plain face as much as possible, and the rest of her boney body was hidden underneath her black baggy sweatshirt and dark jeans. These guys had about as much of a chance with her as Ryan and Riley had of working out, she thought. Just thinking about the wedding invitations they'd have to make made her giggle. 'Ryan and Riley Ross cordially invite you to...' She made a mental note to bring that up every time Riley started getting all gooey about him. It wasn't that Amy couldn't just understand this relationship in particular. She didn't get the whole thing. She'd never had the crushes her friends always seemed to flaunt and then forget about. She had pretended to sometimes though - to fit in.
That had worked for a few years, but at eighteen she was a kissless virgin who'd barely dated anyone, she'd become 'the weird girl'. Rumors circulated sometimes that she was trans or gay, but asexual felt like the best fit most days. Not that Amy didn't have fantasies or sexual desires - she just didn't have them about real people. Even here at this party where she didn't know even a quarter of the people, the rest knew not to flirt with her. They knew it was a waste of time. No amount of smooth talking could penetrate her awkward exterior to get at the juicy bits they were after.
After turning down the fourth offer of a beer Amy went to the back yard to hang out until it was late enough that she could go home. She'd gotten drunk before, which was fun, but she was definitely a lightweight. The last thing she'd needed was to get drunk by herself in a room full of people. She shivered, half from the cool night air and half at the thought as she walked towards an deserted concrete bench near the back of the garden. Getting drunk and being taken advantage of might be hot in her fantasies, but it was the last thing she was going to seek out. No, better to be alone and focus on finishing school instead of complicating her life with sex and emotions.
Amy was so wrapped up in her thoughts now that she'd found some solitude, that when someone said "Hey" from the shadows it made her jump right out of her skin.
Amy startled easily, and only barely kept herself from screaming at the sudden noise. As it was she briefly cowered at the sound before regaining her composure. It was just long enough to make the guy in the shadows under the old Elm crack up with laughter. "Chill dude, chill. Everything's cool. You're Amy right?"
"Do I know you?" Amy asked, peering harder into the shadows to try to figure out who she'd bumped into back here. Her eye's still hadn't adjusted enough to be able to see too many of the stranger's features. She just hoped she hadn't walked in on someone's make out spot.
"Not really no," he said, "But I know Sasha and Trevor, and I guess you hang out with them sometimes." The guy took a long drag off the cigarette he was smoking, letting her see his face. His stubble made her think that he was probably a year or two older than her, but did sort of look familiar. After he held his breath for a few seconds, he exhaled and she changed her mind at the smell. He wasn't smoking - he was getting high. "Name's Steven" he said before coughing up a storm.
"I can go somewhere else if you want..." Amy started, taking half a step back unconsciously. "I don't want to—"
"Forget it," Steven said, waving his hand with the joint in it expansively. "Mi backyard es su backyard. Besides, so far this party has been pretty lame."
"You think so?" Amy asked, sitting down on the far side of the bench, a couple paces from Steven. "It seems fine to me."
"If it was fine you'd be drinking, and if it was great, you'd be dancing with one of those guys up there." Steven said, as he stood, "But you're back here with me, so what does that say about it?"
"Wait," Amy interjected, "Are you saying I have to agree because I'm back here with you? Does that make you more lame or less lame than the party. I'm confused."
Steven chuckled as he walked over to the bench and sat down, cutting Amy's personal space in half. "Good one," he said. "Normally I'd be the lamest guy here. But a little weed and bang - suddenly I'm a good time."
"Is that so?" Amy asked, skeptically. "Pot makes you more interesting?"
"Well it helps if you have a couple puffs first. "Steven joked. It fell flat with Amy, but he cracked himself up enough that he needed a few seconds to collect himself. "Go on, try some and find out."
"I don't know." Amy hesitated. "I don't think it's my thing."
