My stomach bottoms out.
Even though it’s only for a goddamn second.
It’s a second too long.
His eyes go wide.
Then he jumps back, panicked.
And his eyes snap to mine.
Like he just woke up.
Then—
Ice.
Cold.
Liquid.
It slaps my skin.
It soaks my hair.
It drips down my collarbone
and inside my dress.
Cold. Sticky. Citrus. Drink.
Alcohol burns my eyes.
Then—“Sorry, babe. Not my fault your slutty face was the thirstiest thing in the room, beggin’ to get wet.”
Around me, people go quiet,
their laughter yanked back into mouths.
Every head is turned.
Eyes tip-toe over me
like I’m a spill on the floor.
Sticky. Stupid. Something to step around.
I stand still. Terrifyingly still.
Soaked. Saying nothing.
Then I wipe the liquid off my chin with the back of my hand.
The girl’s adjusting her bra strap,
fixing her hair,
wiping a single drop of splash off her thigh,
