Do you really wanna know why?

There he was. 

The last guy I kissed before I sobered up.

I couldn't approach him sober, I had to get drunk again and fast. So instead of walking up to him I made a U-turn towards the bar. I drank half a bottle of tequila in a matter of seconds. Not a single drop left. I wanted more, I needed more. I kept on telling myself that I was trying to get wasted so I could throw myself at that fine young man again. I kept looking for more alcohol.

Everything that would make me forget about what had just happened in the bathroom.

Bingo, a full bottle of vodka. I felt like a obese kid in a candy store, my happiness was indescribable. Smiling from ear to ear I reached out to this bottle of heavenly poison. Well, I tried. Someone held me back before I could.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing now?"

Great, him again. The one person at this party that I didn't want to see. I wanted to scream and tell him to mind his own goddamn business but I couldn't find the strength. Who the fuck does he think he is? Why is he taking care of me like I mean something to him? Why was he acting like a fucking boyfriend all of a sudden? He lost that title months ago. On the other hand, one part of me was happy. He didn't leave. He didn't stay put in the bathroom. He went after me. Did I still mean something to him?

Again, I hadn't noticed that tears were falling freely from my eyes. Thank god he couldn't see them. My stare was fixated at my fucked up Dr. Martens. I wanted to look up and meet his eyes but I couldn't do it. Not again.
I was avoiding his stare like the plague and he knew exactly why. We both knew that the moment I'd look up shit would go down. I would either be throwing hands or making out with this man. Oh yeah, remember the 10 shots I took before he held me back? Yeah.. I'm feeling those right now.

I couldn't do it. I can't put myself through that pain again twice in the same night. Eventually he would get tired of this, right? I do have to say, from where he was standing, if he looked down, there was one nice ass view. Proud lover of my boobs, fight me.

Distracted by my boobs, I didn't realize his hand was moving. All of a sudden he grabbed my face and forced me to look up at him. Fuck, that was sexy as hell.

This time his eyes weren't empty. His eyes were filled with something.

It wasn't the connection we lost, it was fire.

His face was a mix of anger, sadness and exhaustion. His body was tense and his grip on my cheeks tightened to the point it started to hurt but I was too focused on his gaze to even feel that pain. He didn't look like the 19 year old guy I started dating way back. He looked like a man ready to take on the whole world and let me tell you, it looked sexy as fuck. If it wasn't for our fight in the bathroom or the intense glaring I'd bang him right there, on the kitchen counter, in front of everyone. I swear to God, I'd probably looked like a hamster. Or a fish..you know Miss Puff, or whatever her name was, from Spongebob. That type of fish, what's it called agai-PUFFER FISH. I swear, I looked like a puffer fish at that moment but he didn't seem to care. He wasn't even looking at my boobs, the disrespect.

"You wanna know why? You wanna know why I dumped you in such a fucked up way? You wanna know why I blocked you everywhere?"

And that's when I heard the words that took away my happy thoughts about banging him. The words I thought I would never hear. The answer I thought I would never get.

That's when he said:

"I..."

-to be continued-

Why?

Two bottles of wine, nine tequila shots and 6 beers later.

There were about 200 red cups on the floor, some guy was puking his guts out in the corner and a couple was making out on the sofa. My friends were either killing their liver or dancing to Suavemente by Elvis Crespo.

My head was spinning and my world was starting to get blurry. How did I end up like this? Oh wait, that's right, alcohol. This party was supposed to be the party of the year, and it was. We did it. We hosted the best houseparty in history. This was one for the books.

Then why did I feel so empty?

Everyone was having a blast and here I am, walking away from the fun and trying not to pass out. Something was missing. It wasn't alcohol because 95% of my blood was now replaced by vodka. It weren't my friends or my potential baes either, everyone I loved was around me.

Well, almost everyone. There was still one person I couldn't get off my mind.

I was a mess. I could feel it. My hair was all fucked up, make up smeared and I was too fucking wasted to even focus on walking. 

That's when I heard the one voice that sobered me up immediately.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?"

It was him. That raspy yet soft voice that I could always recognize, even in the state I was in at that moment. He was right. Why was I doing this to myself? What did I gain from drinking my brain cells away? Shit's expensive. 

I felt myself slipping away. My legs started to feel weak and I could feel myself losing balance.

That's when he grabbed me by my arm. In my moments of weakness he was always the one keeping me steady. Just like tonight, six months after we'd last seen each other.

I finally knew why I'd been such a hoe all night, grinding and kissing 6 different guys. I finally knew why I wanted to drink all my worries away. I finally knew why I felt so empty. I finally knew what I needed.

I needed him.

I needed him to scold me about my reckless behavior. I needed him to hold my hair while I was puking my guts out. I needed him to force me in to a shower (fully clothed, pervert) to sober me up. I needed him to get me some hangover food. I needed him to see the real mess I was after he left me. I needed him to look me in to my bloodshot eyes, pleading for him to answer the question that's been on my mind for the past 6 months.

"Why?" 

At this moment we were both sitting on the bathroom floor. He looked at me so confused. Of course, who wouldn't be when someone randomly asks you why? My clothes were soaked and my makeup was all over my face from the sober-up-shower (eyeliner still poppin', waterproof bishhh). 

"What do you mean, why?", he asked. 

I turned my head to look him straight in the eyes, looking for that connection. Could he still see what was bothering me in my eyes like we used to? 

Why did you do it? Why didn't you let my drunk ass fend for myself? Why did you suddenly decide to cut off all contact with me but take care of me right now as if you care about me? Why did you plan so many dates with me to tell me ten minutes later that we should stay friends? Why did you tell me that you couldn't wait for me to meet your family when it was never in your intentions to start something serious with me? Why did you flirt with her when you knew she was my best friend? Why couldn't you come up with a better excuse than "I'm busy with school, I'm busy"? Why did you caress my cheek to turn me yours the next day? Why did you leave?

Why? 

My head was full with these questions but did I ask any of them? No. 

I couldn't see it anymore. I couldn't feel it anymore. When I used to look into his eyes I could see a whole universe. I'd see a childish soul. I'd see a strict, business man. I'd see a scared little boy. 

I'd see the man I used to love. 

Now I only saw dark, empty eyes looking at me like I was some stranger.

I didn't realize I was crying at this moment. Tears were falling freely from my eyes.

I didn't cry because I still wanted him. I didn't cry because of all the alcohol in my system. I didn't cry because I missed him.

I cried because I lost such a special connection with someone. A connection that took us months to build. A connection I thought I would never find again.

Then it hit me.

The bond we had was gone and so should this pity party I was dwelling in for months.

Stand up, fix your make up and get back to being the best hostess of 2017. I'd probably missed a good 35 minutes of the party, 35 minutes I could have spend drinking some more spiked punch or creating some drama because who doesn't love drama.

So I did. 

I got up, and walked out of that bathroom. I could hear him calling my name. I could hear him trying to get up and almost slipping. I tried my best to not look back and just walk out of that door to never look back again. I was so close. 

"Please"

That word. That word is what made me stop in my tracks and turn around one last time. His posture was weak and for a second I think I saw it. I could almost see that spark in his eyes that I thought we'd lost but I shook it off. It was probably just my imagination. 

"Enjoy the party."

Those were the last words I ever said to him. 

The image of his eyes kept popping up in my head. It's not real. You were just imagining it. It was never love just lust. It was all fake.

Was it? 

Fuck that, let's find that dude I was kissing before.