Source: Style With cents
Everywhere he looked, there were people. Laughing at jokes that weren’t funny, smiling at people they didn’t like, flirting with those they thought they were supposed to. It was a loud, colorful parade of every malice possible jammed into a ten by ten room and he was now trapped in it.
“I’m gonna go get us a couple a beers!” Marty yelled at him. Even with his face no more than two inches from his and his voice raised to a higher volume than most opera singers he could barely here him over the din of bad music and idiots screaming at each other.
“Can we go?” he pleaded. In the observation he’d taken in less than a minute he’d concluded there was nothing of value for him there.
“No way! We just got here” Marty yelled at him. “Besides, you promised you’d give it a shot.”
“I did! I came- now I want to go!” He hated the very act of yelling and his skin was already itching with the need to go somewhere where he could speak in normal volumes.
“Look, I’m your ride and I’m not going yet. You wanna walk home, go ahead. If not, you’re staying and you might as well at least try to have fun!” With that he waded into the mass of moving bodies and disappeared.
Morgan just stood there and stared after him, his mouth slightly open in shock. He wondered what type of chemical was in the air to make his friend turn on him so. Then he spotted him near a table littered with bottles trying to talk to a girl with a unnaturally red hair and realized: pheromones. He cursed him and scanned the horizon for a way out. In the far corner of the room was an entryway. He only assumed it lead to a hallway and, god willing, a way out.
He pushed himself back up against the wall and tried to find a path around the room. He tried to push past the party goers without making contact with any of the sweaty bodies but they were jumping and pushing and dancing against each other; making it impossible for him to make it through unscathed.
He finally made his way to the hall and was overwhelmed by the noise coming from the kitchen. He pushed past the people hanging around there, not even bothering to look at the hilarity ensuing inside and searched for a doorway not crowded with people.
He was hot. He was deaf. He felt like he’d been thrown head-first into a mosh pit and spat out with both his dignity and self respect ripped from him in the process. And he was positive that having witnessed this much discussed spectacle first hand he would be quite happy if he never went to another one in all his life.
He found a door in the hallway and without thinking opened it and ran inside. His head got tangled in a cloud of various fabrics and he fell, unceremoniously, on his ass. He pulled the jackets that landed on top of him off his head and immediately locked eyes with a girl he remembered from his chem lab- the one who always sat in the back.
They sat there, each in a pile of clothing they’d fallen into trying to escape the madness outside and stared at each other. Then, as if on cue, they both started laughing harder than either had in a long, long while.