Page 124 of Such Sharp Teeth

“I look okay?”

“Yes,” she says. “You look exceptional.”

I check the mirror. She’s not wrong. “You’d never guess I occasionally kill and consume whole deer.”

“What?”

“Never mind,” I say, taking a swig of mouthwash.

“Do you know what you’re going to say to him?”

I spit the mouthwash into the sink, run the faucet for a second. “I’m not going for him. I’m going because it’s New Year’s Eve and it’s my best friend’s party. And I know there will be pigs in a blanket. You know how I love pigs in a blanket.”

“I know,” she says. “Okay. Off you go, then.”

“Off I go. Bye.”

I start walking out of the room, which is hard, because my legs are suddenly rubber.

“Rory,” she calls.

“Yeah?”

“Good luck.”

“See you next year!” I tell her.

I pull up at nine thirty. The party started at seven. Inside, there are clusters of people everywhere, and I can tell by the volume of conversation that everyone’s already drunk. I can smell the alcohol on their collective breath. I smell too many spritzes of perfume, too-strong cologne. There’s a lack of inhibition, a lack of awareness. These people are disconnected from their bodies; their bodies don’t hold them in a vise grip the way that mine does. They sway happily, free. Unaware of their surroundings. Unworried.

Someone’s stomach gurgles. Someone’s sweating out the tacos they ate earlier. Someone’s crying somewhere; the brine of their tears flavors the air. It’s the same sensory overload I experienced at the Corner Pub.

The kitchen is crowded. People stagger toward the food. I witness some blatant double-dipping.

I head into the dining room, which appears slightly less congested.

There, I find Ash in a sequined dress with puffy sleeves.

“You look like a beautiful disco ball,” I tell her.

“You look gorgeous,” she says. “Wow. If I didn’t know you, I’d think you were famous.”

I give her a hug. “I’m big in Eastern Europe.”

“I was worried you wouldn’t come,” she says. Then she whispers, “Don’t look, but Ian’s here. In the corner.”

I look anyway. I notice him noticing me. His expression is blank.

I expect him to come over, acknowledge me in some way, but he doesn’t. He returns to his conversation without so much as a nod.

“I’m going to go get a drink,” I say. “Maybe think up some resolutions. I’ll see you.”

I turn, moving slowly to show off my exposed back. I go over to the bar. I expect Seth but he’s not around, so I help myself. When I’m done pouring my bourbon, I check to see if Ian’s watching me. He isn’t.

I find a group of drunk people to talk to. They all find me very charming and hilarious. They laugh loudly, which is good for getting attention. I feel eyes on me. I’m the sun of the party. I shine the brightest, and it’s all orbiting around me. My presence is known.

I wait for Ian to come to me, to give in, but time passes and he’s nowhere, and we’re now fast approaching midnight.

It’s going to have to be me, isn’t it? I’m going to have to make the first move.