It’s Tuesday.

  In the span of a day and a half, Jesse has called me; excused himself for his behavior during the night at the bar, I have reached two hundred kills on BO6, and I wrote three other pages of my article.

  When my phone rang and Jesse’s name popped up, the silent promise I did to myself came back, and before he even got to say a word, I blurted. “Your girlfriend is dead to me.”

  “Alex, come on. We were both completely wasted.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Oh, I realized that. Pretty clearly.”

  “To be honest, I don’t even remember what she told you.”

  “She basically assumed I was dating Andrew.” I purposefully let the silence weigh on the conversation. It didn’t seem to phase him, though. I added, “Which is a crime that would at least deserve a fifteen-year prison sentence.”

  His giggle resonated on the other end. “You have to stop pretending nothing is happening between the two of you. Even with the equivalent of the entire bar’s alcohol in my veins, I could definitely tell.”

  Instead of answering, I activated the speaker on my phone and grabbed my controller back. The sound of the bullets in the game responded for me. “Anyway! She still wanted to apologize. Because she could see that she made you uncomfortable. Isn’t she nice? Do you forgive her?”

  Another kill. “I don’t know. Can I have free drinks at her bar for the rest of my life?”

  He laughed, thought about it for a few seconds. Now that I reminisce, Tania might have been right beside him, letting him talk for her. “Hum, maybe at least next time you visit. Are you eviscerating someone right now? Are you that mad?”

  Three more kills. I was on fire. “Just playing COD. I forgive you. Don’t make me suffer another night out with this man.” I concluded, with the acknowledgment of Tuesday’s party evidently clear in my head.

  “Right. Well, Claire has gone AWOL since then, anyway.”

  “No shit,” I heartedly laughed, the memory of her echoing smack still embellishing my best dreams.

  “Why? Do you know something?”

  “I might have witnessed an interesting scene, yeah.” Five more kills. Currently destroying the lobby.

  The silence on the other end was obvious. Surely Tania and Jesse are scrutinizing each other, eyes gleaming from the gossip. “What?” He asked, but it might have been her speaking.

  “Claire wasn’t pleased with his behavior apparently. Gave him a pretty hard slap in the face.”

  “You’re gloating.”

  “I’m not,” but my smile was wide. “Anyway, she left crying and broke it off with him.”

  “They were not together,” Jesse affirmed, with a tinge of hesitation in his voice. Again, surely asking for his girlfriend’s advice.

  “I mean, that’s for sure now.”

  “No, they never dated. Andrew is into men.”

  The words he said to me flashed back into my mind. I haven’t been completely honest to her. Did he forget to mention that the two of them could never happen? They did flirt a little. She did. A lot. And he returned some of her initiatives. Are his preferences a secret and he tried to mingle among the heterosexuals? Would that be the reason why Claire felt used? She learned that he pretended to be interested to avoid unwanted attention.

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  Then what were the rest of his questions for? About me and the other men at our table? Was he fishing for information? Can’t recall what my answer was.

  “How do you know?”

  “Tania told me.” Obviously.

  “Explains a lot.” As I checked the clock, the hour yelled at me for staying so long on the game when I promised myself I would continue writing. “I have to go.”

  “Alright. Are we good?”

  “Yes, of course. Bye.”

  Fifty-five kills and a dozen insults later, I sat in front of my computer, inhaled deeply and put my fingers on the keyboard.

  When I lifted my head back up, the hour screamed three in the morning and sleep crashed onto me like a dump truck. Fortunately, I only had to take a few steps before slumping down on the bed, my fatigue getting the best of me.

  One thing led to another and it’s Tuesday.

  I’ve spent more time wondering what gift I should bring to the party than analyzing my outfit. Since I work in the morning and the afternoon, besides taking a shower at the University and changing there, I have no other options than to attend with my work clothes. Not that the latter aren’t fancy enough for the party. Well, I have no idea if I have to wear fancy clothes. I haven’t asked. I’m new to this.

  “Hello, gorgeous,” I hear the sound of Caroline’s voice behind me. And the timing couldn’t be better.

  “Hey. How is it going?”

  “Well great. I’m excited for the party.” She grins with her teeth. I give her a quick glance and notice how refreshed and elegant she is. Although, she does make it a personal mission never to disappoint regarding her style. “What is it?”

  She searches for my eyes that got lost in her scrutinizing. “I don’t have anything else on me,” I explain, showing my clothes with a hand.

  Her finger curls against her mouth and she starts turning around me, watching every single little detail. Which is none.

  As the days of transitional seasons entail, the mornings are cold and the afternoons are insanely warmer. And with the number of people at the party, inside the consequent but probably insufficient space of the room 15-04, I won’t be wearing my sweater there. So, I only have a dark green Henley over a worn-out pair of jeans. Caroline continues to inspect in complete silence. “Say something?”

  “Don’t worry about it. Most of them have spent the whole day here too. And I’m sure most of them won’t think you’ll actually show up.” She insists.

  It has been a constant battle since I’ve been invited. Should I go? Should I show everyone that I’m not the robot they thought I was? Should I just avoid this unnecessary anxiety moment and stay at home, work on my article while the motivation thrives in me? Jesse would have told me to go for it. Stay even for an hour. And it might be the reason why I didn’t speak of this to him. Because I know he would be right.

  “Brat!” Elena shouts from across the hall. Right. I haven’t even told her to stop calling me that. Caroline shares a curious glance my way but I shake my head. Don’t ask.

  “Elena, hi.” She comes close and I bring her to my chest for a quick hug. “Caroline, this is my young sister Elena, Elena this is—”

  “Caroline from the reception, hi, how are you?”

  They hug just as closely. “Have I missed something?”

  “Elena came to me during the first week and explained who she was.”

  I recall our conversation in my apartment. “When you eagerly searched for people that knew me, is that it?”

  She nods. With a huge smile. Clearly proud of herself. “Am I interrupting?” She queries.

  “Not at all, dear. He’s all to yourself.”

  “Do you need something?” I demand, searching my phone in my pockets to check on the time.

  “Well, I’ve finished my classes. Just came by to see if you could give me a ride home.”

  This would be the perfect get out of jail free card to avoid going to the party. My little sister, who has yet to pass her driving exam, needs to be brought home safely by her older brother. Who could refuse? How terribly awful would I be to choose a stupid party over prioritizing the security of my own blood?

  I only have time to inhale before Caroline admits. “Your brother is invited somewhere tonight. It starts in… twenty minutes!”

  And any other siblings would have sighed. Any other siblings would have bargained and whined and begged to avoid taking public transportations instead of a comfortable ride home. But Elena is not that kind of sibling. “Oh my god, what? And you didn’t tell me?”

  “Of course I didn’t tell you,” I instinctively respond and both of them slap my arm. “Are you ganging up against me?”

  Instead of answering, they both start chatting. Where is it? Here, in a meeting room. How cool! What do you plan on doing? I don’t know, I’m not the one organizing. Well, you’ll have to tell me all about it! Was this directed at me? No. No, it wasn’t.

  “Have fun then, brat. Love you!” And she storms off before I can say anything.

  A few seconds pass as we silently watch my sister walk through the hall and out the main entrance.

  “Did she call you brat?”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. This night promises to be long.