Page 176 of Bad Prince
Guys louder.
Shirts half-buttoned. Red cups in hand. Arms slung over shoulders like they own the place.
Beer pong in the corner.
“WATERFALL!” someone yells as a line of girls tilt plastic cups back and laugh.
It’s chaos.
It’s exactly what I’ve been avoiding.
And tonight?—
I don’t care.
“Shots?” Delia asks.
“Yeah.”
She blinks.
“…You sure?”
I take the cup from her hand.
“Yeah.”
I knock it back.
Burn.
Sharp. Immediate. Cleansing.
Good.
I move through the crowd like I belong here.
Head high.
Shoulders back.
People look. I can feel it — the shift in attention, the way conversations pause just slightly as I pass.
I don’t acknowledge any of it.
I’m not here for them.
I’m here to not feel like I’m the only one sitting still while the world keeps moving.
I grab a beer.
Then another.
Then something stronger someone hands me that tastes like citrus and bad decisions.
For a few minutes?—
It works.
