I’m not going to pretend that her ditching me and the organization that is so important to her wasn’t wrong. And I don’t want to say, “it’s okay” because it wasn’t. But I know Sara isn’t her worst moments. There’s a reason I am still her friend, that I am still here now.

“Just, you know, next time, do better,” I say.

She nods.

As night creeps closer to early morning, the bar fills up with more and more people. The crowd gets younger and less dressed. The vibe turns from people sitting in booths and nibbling on food to people crowding together so close that you can barely get to the bar or the bathroom without stepping on toes.

“Do you wanna take a shot?” Sara yells over the music, which has doubled in volume in our time here.

“Sure!” I yell.

We shimmy our way to the bar. There is no room to stand against the bar, so we hover behind a guy and girl who already have their drinks. Hopefully they’ll move soon.

They don’t seem to notice us though, and I’m scared to say excuse me. I can’t hear what they’re saying over the bass radiating from the speaker, but given their body language, it does not seem pleasant.

The guy reaches into his back pocket and pulls out an iPhone. He opens an app I recognize far too well and pulls up the profile of the girl. She has Silver status. He holds out the phone and makes a show of unmatching with her.

Rage grows in the girl’s eyes. She picks up her full beer and throws it on him.

“Oh shit.” I stumble back to avoid being sprayed, bumping into Sara in the process.

“What the fuck?” he yells.

“You hurt someone’s rating just because they won’t sleep with you on the first freaking date!” the girl yells. “It’s against the rules!”

“There are no rules!” He wipes beer off his face. “And please, don’t act so innocent—I know you’ve been giving head for upvotes for months.”

“What did you just say?”

“Lizzy, what’s going on?” Another guy has pushed through the crowd.

“This asshole just called me a whore.” She crosses her arms.

He shoves past us, closing the distance between them. “What’d you call my sister?” He grabs a fistful of the guy’s shirt.

“Get your hands off me.” The douchey guy coils his arm, and I realize what is about to happen.

I turn and grab Sara’s shoulders. “Move.”

We’re pushing through the crowd when the first punch lands square in the brother’s jaw. He must fight back, because I hear people yelling “Stop!” and a few chanting “Fight, fight!”