She stands in the doorway, amongst the rubble left by the rush of hipsters avoiding the cops. Dropping a deuce in the bathroom, I had avoided the sirens and masses of people leaving. The house is empty and smells like swiped V-cards and piss. I help myself to a jello shot and don't even notice her until I hear a kind of grunt.
I steal a second one and look up at her. She's about twice as drunk as I am. Deerhunter hat, white tank top I can see her nipples in, blue panties, bear claw slippers. She's drinking four dollar wine from the bottle. She looks at me. I look at her. We stare at each other for what's gotta be five solid minutes before she speaks.
"Party's over," she says.
"Guess so," I say. Silence.
"You know you have to leave, right?" she says, taking another gulp.
I take another jello shot.
"Look, I don't give a fuck if you go home or not. Hell, I don't care if you crash here. But my roommate is gonna raise hell if she finds some floater on the floor tomorrow," she says in one breath.
Silence.
"'Kay," I say, taking another shot for good measure. I try to go for the front door. She holds her hand up.
"Back door. What are you, a freshman?" she says, pointing.
I salute her and go into the night.
