Chapter Thirty-One

My team was moved to a new office. There, we didn't have assigned workspaces, the employees flowed from meeting rooms to spaces where people could sit around and work. Everything in that company was shaped for remote work, making us come to the office only for important meetings. It was a new way of working, and a few of my colleagues didn't want to stay at home, so they transferred from the team to stay in the previous company that had normal working hours and traditional office setups.

But I wanted to travel, had always wanted to, so I was looking forward to getting settled there and going remote as soon as possible.

In the morning my team received an invitation to spend a week in Sri Lanka, to meet the CEO, who had spent last year working from there. He wanted to meet us all to discuss the next steps and tell us more about the company culture of remote work.

The team was ecstatic about a ‘free vacation', as they called it. Sri Lanka was as good a place as any to start traveling.

I texted Arthur, and he said that it would be my turn to review weird local food and customs for him over videos. He said that he hoped I would find a fruit that stinks my whole room, sweet revenge for that Tokyo jello.

When I called Miranda and told her about the upcoming trip, she reminded me of a party she was preparing. It was the day before my flight to Sri Lanka.

"Can I bring someone?" I asked.

"Sure, is he your new toy?"

Miranda was always excited to discuss my love life, but she had stopped taking it seriously a long time ago: after John changed from Adam to Oliver to Thomas. The long string of guys who never stayed.

"No, he's more like …" I paused, more like who? "A friend."

"A friend? This is new. Bring him on, let's see if he can stomach my punch."

I groaned. Miranda had perfected her deadly concoction over the years. It killed faster after all those years, showing darker sides of guests, which Miranda loved to watch.

Arthur was thrilled to get to meet Brian and Miranda. So, when we stood in front of the entrance to their house, fast techno music blasting from inside, I repeated for the hundredth time not to drink more than one glass of punch. We wore bright psychedelic shirts and neon glowing bracelets and there was a streak of violet in my hair. The theme of the party was underground techno.

"At first everything will be good and civilized, then it's going to turn into hell. When it turns into hell, it's time to get away," I said. "They're notorious for their parties, so be vigilant."

A taxi stopped in their driveway and people spilled out in neon outfits. One woman was wearing pink leather pants.

"It looks like a college party," Arthur said, looking around.

"Exactly. But many people here are past their thirties, with kids, expensive cars, and money. They all love Miranda's parties because of how unruly they become. They feel young again here."

"Let's go inside," Arthur said as a party of newcomers strolled past us into the house, slamming the door carelessly.

I took a deep breath and laced my hand over the door handle. "Oh God, be ready to see the dark part of me."

Arthur grinned.

"And I'll see yours," I said and winked, opening the door.

The house was big and modern, but unlike usual, it was decorated in fluorescent posters and all the windows were covered with shades, creating a dark atmosphere. The music was loud, but not so loud that you couldn't hear the voices. Groups of people swayed, excitement in their eyes.

Miranda appeared at my side. Her long burgundy hair was curled. She wore ninja boots with a separate finger for each toe, a black one-piece jumpsuit, and tiny pink glasses that complemented the look. She threw her arms around me.

"I'm so happy to see you," she said. "This is going to be wild. Introduce me to your friend."

Miranda lowered her glasses and looked Arthur up and down. He shook her hand.

"You're lucky," she said to him.

"Why?"

"Emily becomes a barbarian at my parties," Miranda said and winked.

Brian appeared at Miranda's side. He too was wearing all black, but his lips were covered in a deep shade of pink, which complimented Miranda's glasses.

I cracked up at the sight of him, and he planted a kiss on my cheek, leaving a stain.

"You look hot, Brian," I said.

"Oh, I know."

Brian turned to Arthur and shook his hand.

"You are different," Brian said to him.

"Is that good or bad?"

"We'll see after tonight."

Brian grinned at me and winked. He lowered his face to my ear and whispered. "He's in for the long run."

It was always like that with Brian. It all started when he saw me and Alice, and continued through the years, always giving me prophecies about my new boyfriends. And unnervingly, he always guessed right.

Miranda disappeared for a moment and came back with two glasses of a deadly potion she called The Punch.

Arthur took a glass and lifted it up to one of the only normal lights left on in the house.

"Smoke fumes from it," he said.

"Cool, right?" Miranda said, bouncing on her feet.

Brian looked around. "Somewhere in the crowd, there's a plate of cookies spiked with something hallucinogenic. If you spot them, throw them in the trash. Okay? I swear this music makes people do crazy stuff."

More people arrived and their costumes showed the outlines of bones in fluorescent light. They pulsed to the rhythm, grotesque glowing bones moving in the crowd.

I turned back to Arthur; he was grinning.

"Ah, to hell with it and with all the control," I said and lifted my glass.

After three gulps my throat burned as if someone had slid a rusty iron wire down it. Acid bit my tongue, but in a few seconds, the pleasant taste of oranges settled in my mouth.

Arthur watched me and took a cautious sip.

He coughed, his eyes watering. But when the orange phase came he took a deep breath.

"God, Miranda, what did you put there?" he asked.

"It's a family secret," she said and winked. "Keep Emily away from the hot tub, last time she ended up there with a bunch of puritans who sat fully clothed and discussed classic literature all night."

Arthur choked but masked it with a few more gulps from his glass, making him choke even more.

"Well, tonight there are enough people to look out for me, so goodbye everyone," I said, and downed the glass.

Brian groaned, Miranda laughed and did the same. Arthur, the poor British soul, watched me and went back to his glass, taking a small sip. I waved and bowed graciously, feeling the drink pulsing in my veins. I blinked and I was dancing in the middle of the room, the light from my bracelet moving in intricate patterns in front of my nose. It was impossible to follow the rhythm of the music, so I just pulsed with all the people around me. Arthur was by my side, and his eyes were closed as he managed to nod in time with the rhythm.

He opened his eyes and looked at me. "I love this track, this is classic!"

"You listen to this for pleasure?"

He just grinned.

Blink. I was standing with Miranda.

"His accent is kind of sexy," she said.

Blink. I was standing by the front door with another glass in my hand.

Blink. I was going to check on the hot tub, hoping to find my literature friends there.

Blink. I was dancing again.

Blink. I was standing in a queue for the restroom, listening to the sounds of someone having sex in the guest room across the corridor.

Blink. I was outside, sitting in the grass, my bracelet light almost dead.

"It's impossible to follow you when you're on The Punch," Arthur said. "You kept running away."

He sat by my side and looked up at the sky. I did the same.

"No stars here," I whispered.

He nodded.

My memory from the previous few hours was sketchy, with a lot of blank spaces. I rubbed my forehead trying to fill them in. Blank. Only those few fragments I did remember came to mind. Arthur was close all the time, he held my hand as I tore through the house, as we danced, his cheeks turning crimson as we stood outside the restroom.

I turned to him. "Arthur?"

"Hm."

"Can I kiss you?"

His eyes went wide for a moment, but he held my gaze.

"This is the drink talking," he said, his pupils huge.

"The drink makes it easier. I'd hoped you'd kiss me under the stars," I whispered.

I needed to stop talking. I didn't want to sound pathetic.

A vicious chill ran down my arms and I realized I was cold. I stood up and hugged myself.

"Sorry," I whispered.

I turned and started walking back into the house. My senses dimmed, turned down from the alcohol and tiredness.

Warm hands grasped my shoulders, turning me, and Arthur pressed me to his chest. He put his chin on top of my head.

I lifted my face to look at him and, suddenly, my senses rushed back to me. I was in Arthur's arms. His smell enveloped me and I felt his pulse under my fingers. He was looking at me.

"I missed the perfect time for our first kiss, under the stars. I was just so afraid to ruin it. And now, you are half-conscious and I am high from the cookies I was not supposed to eat. But all I can think of is you. You and your perfect lips, your eyes which look into my core, you who tease and joke about me. You're so damn smart, and I'm afraid that I am just one of many of your suitors. But I want more, Emily."

"What do you want?" I asked quietly.

"I want your heart," Arthur said, as he slowly moved his fingers over my cheek.

"I told you, I buried my heart with those people I loved and who left me. I can't love anymore. I can't offer what I can't give," I said.

"Liar," he said and lowered his lips to mine.

It was so painfully slow at the beginning, his lips caressing mine, while a tight knot in my chest eased. He tasted of oranges and chocolate. And I kissed back, needing it more than air. Our tongues met, craving going wild. Suddenly his hand was on my waist, under my shirt. The feeling of skin on skin sent a powerful pulse through me. But suddenly he stopped.

"Not now, not like this. Not when we're not ourselves," Arthur said, putting his hands on my shoulders again and breathing hard.

I was pressed to his tall frame, feeling his need against my hip.

"Damn, you're romantic," I mumbled.

"Yeah, so romantic that our first kiss was under the influence."

"It just made us braver," I said. "Let's go home. Not one home. Our homes, I mean."

Arthur laughed and retrieved his phone from his back pocket.

We found Brian and Miranda dancing in the middle of the hall, elaborate movements amazingly matching the rhythm. We said goodbye, and Miranda wiggled her eyebrows at me, asking me to call her tomorrow and wishing me a good trip to Sri Lanka.

We stood on the curb, watching the house pulsing behind us for a moment. Our taxi came minutes later.

Inside, I said, "They would host these parties "til they are in their eighties," shaking my head.

"That was ... educational," Arthur said, as he rubbed his temple.

"Wild, it's always wild," I said and kicked back my head on the headrest.