Girl and I weren’t scared. We took our glasses from bartenders and waitstaff only, took our weed from Blaze’s pens, our coke and 2CB from twin baggies Girl kept tucked in her bikini top. It wasn’t sloppy if it was just us in the bathroom, passing the bags. “Is there anything more timeless than two girls doing blow in a bathroom stall?” Girl said, and offered me her pinkie nail, mounded with powder. I wanted to know her name but was embarrassed to admit I hadn’t heard it. I wanted her Instagram handle but our phones were hidden anyway.

“Is this your first time at one of these?” I said and waved my hand to convey the word, “parties.” She told me it wasn’t. “They’re not always this fun,” she said.

We moved into the crowd again. The men parted for us. “How you doing, ladies?” they asked and we smiled, sparkled, waved hands, tits, asses, as we were supposed to. On an elevated platform, a DJ in a Nacho Libre mask spun with one hand, waved at the crowd with the other. We danced, returned to the bar, then the bathroom. We moved outside, inside, outside to a ledge. We danced along the lip, the cold pool below, just in case we fell. Behind us, a squat line of decorative fire and @Chrisss’s camera, flashing. I felt drunker than before. I hit my angles better than before.

The song changed and Girl and I climbed down, snorted in the open, yelled stories at each other. Girl told me about the man who paid her rent and tuition at an online fashion design school.

“I just feel like I’m destined for more,” she yelled.

“The guy I live with bought my tits,” I answered and felt immediately ratchet. “I want to go to school,” I said. “But my mom is sick.” For once her illness didn’t feel like an excuse.

“Is she okay?” We were leaned in, Girl’s breath hot and stale, but not unpleasant.

“She’s really sick,” I snapped. Girl’s eyes met mine for a moment, then drifted up, to something behind me. Hands closed around my shoulders.

“How you feeling, babe?” Jake asked.

“Hey,” I said, and smiled with my teeth.

“You want some pictures with Blaze?”

Girl said, “Fuck yes.”

I said, “Absolutely,” proud that I could get her chosen.

Jake held my hand, I held Girl’s hand. We cut together through the bodies, toward the house. Above the giant door, a man-sized panther head had been illuminated. It glowed, green and furred where night and neon met. Below, Blaze talked to @Chrisss, who flipped through images on his camera. Jake stopped us in front of them.