I was safe in the corner. My heels were starting to dig into my anklebones. Hardly anyone else was wearing heels; skirts and dresses were almost exclusively paired with bright white sneakers and skate shoes. I had worn the heels to manufacture a sense of power and self-esteem, but now that I was here I felt absurd and wondered if I should take them off and hide them in the corner, walk around barefoot. I was trying too hard, so hard, it was obscene. But walking around barefoot—wouldn’t that be even more affected?

There was a bag of ruffled potato chips open on the table, and I mechanically fed them to myself in between sips of my drink. I’d had a bowl of cereal while getting dressed for the party, but other than that, I’d hardly eaten all day. The potato chips and alcohol mixed unpleasantly with the cereal and milk, which made me eat more, as if by committing to volume, I could stuff down the displeasure.

I scanned the crowd. There was Celeste in the middle of the room, her movements growing grander. She stood with a girl and two guys, who now threw back their heads laughing at something she’d said. This made her laugh, too, her slender shoulders pitching forward, her face falling into a soft, happy reverie. Jojo had told me that her insecurities were plain, her self-doubt its own person, but at the moment that knowledge held no weight. I felt only hot jealousy.

I chewed on my thumbnail, took another sip of my drink, tried to seem nonchalant. One of the strangers glanced toward me across the room, looked me up and down, then looked away. Ugly. Into my mind flashed the memory of Dominic’s girlfriend looking sidelong at me. I imagined him walking in, catching my eyes, noting my desperate heels and my too-short dress. Nice dress, his girlfriend would say, and they would laugh together. Not leaving anything to chance tonight, are you.

I finished my drink and poured myself another. I looked back toward Celeste, then at the people in her circle. I could see everyone’s face except one of the men’s. He was turned away from me, facing Celeste, and I studied the back of his head. Something about it arrested me: his hair curled at the nape of his neck, nestling into the divot there to take a little rest, like a sweet newborn animal—

So he was here.

My heart began to beat very loudly. I could tell that my mouth was open, that I was blinking too much. He tilted his head back in laughter again. Perhaps he had known I would be at this party and had come specifically to speak to me. I could go over, put on a nonchalant air, pretend we hadn’t met before—Oh, you work at which bar?—but he was talking to Celeste, of all people, and didn’t that just make perfect sense.

I edged closer so I could hear them.