I stare at myself in the mirror, trying to find some hint of excitement as I get ready for the night out. My roommate practically begged me to come out with him, and I should feel flattered that he asked me in the first place. But something about being the +1 of an acquaintance of a friend to the host of house party doesn't really get me in the mood. It's been six months since my break up and I still struggle to be social and put myself out there. They say the way to get over someone is to get under someone else, but I can't even get out of my own head, let alone into someone else's bed.
My roommate rushes in my room, douses me in his cologne, and drags me by the arm out of our front door. "You will have a good time tonight, whether you like it or not," he says through a mischievous smile. "Priority number one is to get the old Darius back. Don't worry about not knowing anyone; find another hot loner and sit beside him. I can guarantee they won't be able to leave you alone. Just try and get a phone number, that's all I ask." Hearing his words with all the confidence behind them strikes a nerve in me. For the first time, I feel like I can actually manage a social outing. I just need to focus on meeting one person, any person, and I'll have made progress.
As we walk up to the apartment, the bass from the subwoofers reverberates through the door and rattles the porch light. Conversation will be challenging, I think to myself. My roommate opens the door and ushers me in to the cacophony. "Go get 'em, tiger." I grin and nod, grateful to have a friend willing to support me.
The apartment is an open layout loft, with the kitchen and living area divided by an island, and the bathroom and laundry tucked away behind the pantry. There's a keg underneath the breakfast table, which is covered in plastic cups and various bottles and pitchers. What would have been a spacious residence was so densely packed with people, it felt more like a subway car during rush hour. The crowd seemed pretty diverse, with many pairs of couples huddled in groups. Now that I'm single, I'm more sensitive to how happy couples look and move, and maybe more bitter. I beeline for the drinks and fix myself a screwdriver, very lightly screwed. With how claustrophobic things seem on the first floor, I doubt I'll be able to even catch my breath, talk less meet someone. So I drift over to the spiral staircase and make my way to the top like I'm escaping a sinking submarine.
Almost like magic, the shindig din fades to a murmur once I reach the second floor. The apartment is set up so loft lies almost directly over the living area, but the acoustics make the two spaces feel totally separate. You would never know you were in the same apartment were it not for the vaulted windows that offered floor to ceiling views of the city skyline. I rest my arms on the railing and lean over, taking in the horizon, completely immersed in the moment. "As much as I hate to admit, this view is spectacular." The voice startles me and makes my shoulders tense. "Hey, no need to jump. I come in peace." I finally turn around and see him sheepishly brandishing his hand in a V shape split at his middle and ring finger. That gets a chuckle out of me, which gets a smile out of him.
As I start to relax, I take in the man talking to me. Above average height, maybe 5'10," with a lean build and just enough definition where I could tell he worked out. His coiffed thick black hair complimented his bushy eyebrows and dark lips. His features on someone else might have been overpowering, but on him they seemed dangerously captivating. His smile was big and brilliant, but genuine, and his fuzzy forearms peeked out from the cuffed sleeves of his denim button-down shirt. His socks were black and dotted with small green frogs. He sat comfortably in the sofa, which was also facing the railing, and I realized that he'd been here before I'd arrived, and that I definitely did not notice him. No big deal, only massively embarrassing.
"How rude of me." He stood up, tugged his khakis into place, and extended a hand. "I'm Neil, nice to meet you. And you are?"
"Darius. Likewise." We shook hands and as I started to pull away, he squeezed my hand and locked eyes with me. My heart jumped and my hands started to sweat. What an odd reaction, I thought. "For the record, I didn't see you when I came up. I just needed to get away from down there, but I did not mean to ignore you."
He shrugged with a half-smile on his face. "Oh don't worry, I'm used to being ignored. When Rohit's your older brother, it's hard to fill those big shoes."
It took a moment for me to register, but then--"You mean Rohit, as in the guy whose apartment we're in right now? He's your brother?"
