Foursome Gone Wrong

It had been a wild night, which was after all, the intent. In the 3 years since I’d started at Falkirk University, Eric had never visited me, not once. So when he called me last week, and told me that he and Sophie were planning on driving up, I’d been ecstatic. They were still too young to legally drink, but I knew half the bouncers in town, and it didn’t take us long to find a club that would turn a blind eye. Eric seemed uncomfortable at first, he wasn’t really a dancer, so I bought a round of shots for everyone to get things moving, and one round...turned into another...and then another and soon enough all four of us were hitting the dancefloor in a haze of , sweat, and ear-drum shattering music.

By the time we made it back to the apartment, I was feeling pretty tipsy, but I’ve always had the kind of constitution that makes it hard for others to tell. I just get louder, and maybe a bit more obnoxious. Our apartment isn’t anything special, in fact it’s pretty small given that we’re both living off of a student’s income. Right now, a quarter of the living room is occupied by the pathetically small inflatable mattress Eric brought for him and Sophie, but between that and the couch, at least there’s enough room for everyone to sit. As soon as we get back, I head to the kitchen to make everyone another round of drinks, “Don’t you fuckers think of crashing! The party’s just getting started. Anna, can you get the music?”