The $12

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He never did know what to do with his hands or legs or hips at the club before the drugs hit. Well to be fair he didn't know what to do with them most of the time. He was cursed with a level of self-awareness others didn't seem to share. Or were they all wearing masks of comfort and chillness?

He grabbed drinks for his friends and realized it came out to $85 after the tip. He felt his chest tighten and breathily said "no big deal" when Jen asked if she could Venmo him for her drink. 

She probably wouldn't Venmo me even if I'd said yes, he convinced himself. She did still owe him $12 for a Lake Trip when he'd spotted her some dough for some event he couldn't remember now. But he did not forget the $12. Jesus I'm intense about money, he thought. 

He swayed a bit and noticed a cute black girl leaning on the counter, talking to her friends. She had purple lipstick and a yellow-purple dress where the two colors waved into one another in swirls. Her laugh was cute and she was thick in ways he liked. 

He pivoted to the dance floor, convinced that if fate would have them interact, they'd interact naturally eventually. Or was he stupid for believing in fate. Yes, he was stupid. But now he was on the dance floor and any small flame of bravery was doused. 

The DJ had some mid tunes, and he swayed softly and felt stiff in the neck. His underwear was uncomfortable too, he noticed. His buddy Alex was vaping inconspicuously and handed him the vape, which he puffed, putting his head down low. He never knew how to do drugs in a place like this. The laser lights started shooting around the room, and the lights began to dim some more. 

That girl came close to him. She was looking past him, and in a thrill of self-abandonment he said, "Welcome to the cool people area". 

She smiled! She fucking smiled and stood next to him. She touched the corner of her drink but all of a sudden they were side by side, facing the DJ, not saying anything. He felt his whole body stiffen and told himself to stay in the moment, to not panic. He was hoping this would relieve the anxiety but it got worse. 

"What's your name?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound too weird from the crazy anxiety vibrating through him like a smacked tuner. 

"Patty," she said. Her arm touched his arm and she held her straw as she took a sip. 

"I'm Patrick," he said. "What a cool coincidence!" But he said that last part with a little too much enthusiasm and she gave a courtesy nod. 

Fuck, he thought. Fuck. Just focus on the dancing. Get into it and chill for fuck's sake. 

"Do you want another drink?" he asked, and then noticed her drink was still rather full. 

"No, no, I'm good," she said, eyes down. Then she turned her head to look back and literally just walked away. 

You're good, you're good, he told himself. This is all okay. It wasn't meant to be. 

Hey, at least I didn't have to buy her a drink, he thought.

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