I change into a black dress that is shorter and lower cut than anything I have ever worn before, but in my state of inebriation, I allow Cora to convince me that it looks amazing.

Before meeting Isla, Elia and Ethan, I down a fourth shot. Cora seems disappointed that we are parting ways, but we promise to meet up again at the dance. Friends caring whether or not I am present is still a new and jarring phenomenon to me.

"I saw that little moment of hand-holding with Kamden," she teases before giving me a quick hug and waving me off. I know my face is bright red and must look interesting contrasted to the ink black of my outfit.

Ethan greets me with an overly affectionate hug, and it is immediately apparent that he is far drunker than I am. He scans his eyes over my entire body, and I don't know if he is checking me out or expressing disapproval at the amount of skin I'm showing. Ethan looks out for me as would an older brother.

"Nice dress," he remarks, and the tone fails to clear up my interpretation of his reaction. Inebriation does not help one discern tone or body language very accurately.

"You look hot, amiga," Isla blurts out in her typical straightforward fashion.

"Um, thanks," I laugh. "So do you." The snug dress clings to her curvy body, and her light blue eyes shine under sparkly eye shadow and dark mascara.

It's freezing outside, but the warmth of the vodka buzzing through my body keeps me comfortable until the bus arrives. Observing the other girls on the LC shuttle, I realize my dress is still more modest than the outfits most others are sporting.

"I had four shots," I blurt to my friends, out of context. "How drunk are all of you?" I ask them, cracking up for no apparent reason.

"Just had a couple shots," Elia replies. "Had to keep it low key so we can look out for our friend here." She pats Ethan on the back in condescending fashion.

"I may have gone overboard," he admits with a sheepish expression, struggling to pronounce some of the words. "That dress looks really good on you."

I'm not sure to whom he is referring until I feel his hand on my wrist.

"Down, boy," Elia scolds him, slapping his hand off of mine. "No pawing at your friends. There will be plenty of scantily clad girls at the dance you can flirt with."

Ethan blushes.

As we make our way inside the ballroom downtown, I whisper loudly to Isla, "I just remembered why I wasn't going to come tonight. I'm afraid of dancing."

"Don't worry!" She grins at me and winks. "I'll show you. You will be great!"

Isla drags me directly to the dance floor, which is dark with flashing lights and overpopulated with drunk college kids.

"Follow me and do what I do!" she shouts. I attempt to do as she instructs, mirroring the motions of her hips, bending my legs as she bends hers, mimicking the rhythm of her swaying arms. If I could produce a mirror image of her dance moves all night like this, I might survive.

The beat of the music, my connection to Isla and the alcohol pumping through my system produce a sensation of being in a pressurized, emotion-saturated bubble unlike anything I have experienced before. My brain is switched off, but my heart and body are buzzing with heat and thrill.

Elia and Ethan reappear, and a vague sense of self-consciousness sizzles under the layer of numb recklessness protecting me. They join us in the dance, and I look to Isla for confirmation.

"You're doing amazing! Keep it up," she encourages.

Ethan moves in closer, and the four of us are dancing in a tight-knit blob. His body continues to gravitate towards me, and we make eye contact several times until the whole thing has me cracking up, and he laughs too. It occurs to me that everyone I have interacted with tonight seems to be physically closer, speaking more honestly, craving connection. I have spent eighteen years of my life with black-and-white views, believing alcohol to be in a solid black box of "bad." In this moment, I'm convinced drinking has opened a secret portal to a new land of sparkly treasures.

Speaking of connection, as the flashing lights illuminate a couple dancing a few feet away, I realize Joshua has himself pressed alarmingly close against a girl sporting a long, sage-green hippie skirt. I squint towards them, another bout of laughter bubbling in my throat as I observe his dancing style with a great deal of confusion.

"Having fun, Nati?" Ethan yells, his long hair shining under the lights.

"I guess!" I shrug with carefree energy. "Are you?"

"I am," he responds as the music cuts out. I can see his expression changing some. "I'm regretting the last few shots I took right about now. I'm gonna run to the bathroom."

Elia glances towards him with concern as we observe his face going pale. She looks to Isla and makes a hand motion, indicating she will accompany him to the bathroom. From some of Ethan's stories and comments in the short time we have known each other, I get the impression that he tends to drink too much, and now I am reminded of the precariousness of this entire situation. One more shot and I would likely be in the restroom with him right now, vomiting my brains out.

A sensation of disappointment flutters through me as soon as Ethan is out of my presence, and I look to Isla for a cue on whether we will continue dancing or take a break. The thought is interrupted by a tap on my shoulder.

"Want to dance?" It's Joshua. Oh my God.

After witnessing the way he was just dancing with the hippie chick, I am completely freaked out. But also intrigued.

He takes my hand in his and wraps his other arm around my body, pulling me in close without hesitation. Then he shoves his pelvis into me, and we stay like this throughout the entire song. If Joshua was a stranger, I would flee from the dance floor traumatized by the contact. I'm not sure if he has ever danced before tonight, but it's apparent to me that this is simply how he thinks one is supposed to dance.

Four shots, unfortunately, were not enough to cure my case of excessive sweating, and halfway through the song I realize my palm is starting to soak through Joshua's dress shirt where I'm holding his shoulder. There is nothing I can do to rectify the situation other than attempt not to dwell on it and await the song's conclusion.

We don't speak as Joshua pulls away, pealing his pelvis from mine with a serious expression. There was nothing emotionally intimate about our bodies being shoved together in this manner for the past four minutes, and from the looks of it, he has been dancing with every girl using the exact same technique.

"That was weird," I say blankly to Isla, and she raises her eyebrows at me and bursts out laughing.

"Yes, yes it was."

From across the way, I catch a glimpse of Joshua. He is grabbing the damp fabric of his shirt shoulder with the opposite hand, a very confused expression on his face. I force my brain to forget about it before I melt into a mortified puddle on the dance floor.

I make my way to the restroom, and once inside I analyze my face in the mirror for several seconds. My cheeks shine a vibrant rosy color, and I look happy. Before I forget I am in a public space and begin making goofy faces at myself, I swivel around to enter one of the stalls, almost bumping into Cora.

"Oh my God, you're here! We were looking for you," she exclaims. She squints at me with a devilish grin. "Kamden was asking about you. You should go dance with him!"

I shake my head emphatically. "I just had a traumatizing experience dancing with a guy," I joke.

"Did he grope you? Who is it? I will slap him for you!" Her tone is light-hearted, but I can tell she has my back.

"No, he's my friend, and he's completely harmless. But certain parts of his body were a little too close for comfort."

She snorts, pulling out a shimmery gloss and gliding it over her lips.

"Sounds like he wants to be more than friends," Cora jests.

I think so, too, but not based on the dance. That felt automatized, impersonal. My mind flashes to him tickling my ribs in the woods and trapping me in a random, impulsive hug. I smirk.

Stepping out of the ladies' room, I notice a cute guy leaning against the opposite wall, one foot crossed over the other, looking at his phone. After several seconds, my brain registers him—it's Bracelet Boy, from the apartments!

I must have stopped walking, because he notices my presence and glances up from his screen.

"Hey!" His face lights up as he slips his phone into his pocket. "How are you? Natalia, right?"

He remembers me?

"Yes!" I exclaim, my voice animated. "I'm so sorry, I actually don't remember your name."

I have moved towards him, and he stands up away from the wall, closing the distance between us further. "Ouch, I am hurt." He clutches his chest. "I remember your name and the bracelet you were wearing."

"Why were you so interested in my bracelet?" I tease him, the words dropping out of my mouth without having to think about them.

"It was a very cool bracelet," he responds casually, a blush creeping into his cheeks, and I can smell his breath—liquor mixed with Tic Tacs. He is able to pronounce his words properly, and it doesn't appear to me that he is overly intoxicated.

"There's actually a story behind it. The eyes are meant to ward off evil and offer protection." I feel my lips quivering with suppressed laughter at the fact that I am conversing openly with this incredibly good-looking stranger. He forgot to tell me his name.

"They were eyes! I knew it." He smiles at me; his dimples remind me of Alex's, and my stomach implodes with butterflies.

"Are you wearing it now?" he asks, taking my wrist in his hand and examining it, as if he couldn't discern the answer to his question with merely his eyes.

"Nope, not tonight." My pulse is racing against his touch, and I'm sure his fingers can feel their effect on me.

"Who is going to protect you?"

His low voice and close presence become too much, and a snicker escapes my throat as I find myself unable to keep up the flirty exchange. I break down laughing.

A girl passes me from behind and links arm with nameless Bracelet Boy. It becomes apparent that he was waiting for her in the restroom.

"Ready?" she asks. Her face is painted in heavy makeup, and her dress reveals bulging cleavage.

"Yep," he says, turning his eyes to her. He glances back to me and grins. "See you around, Natalia."

I'm relieved he was with someone else and that he didn't ask me to dance. I can handle leaving a sweat puddle on Joshua's shoulder, but not on his. Definitely not ready for a boy like him yet.

Again, I think of Alex. Sometimes it's as if the episode with Alex never happened. It was from a different lifetime. I was a petrified child who couldn't hold a conversation. Yet, when I recall our moments together, mixed within the confusion and thrill and terror, there was an element of comfort.

I rejoin Isla on the dance floor. The music blasts into my chest and people float around me everywhere, moving wildly, yelling, laughing. Convincing myself that no one is paying attention to me, I stop watching Isla and improvise my own dance steps.