Party

I thought the vodka had clouded my head, but when she closed the hotel room door I knew she’d been waiting for that exact moment for years.

Lucía looked at me over the fire and I knew that night we wouldn’t be sleeping alone. Two bottles of wine were missing and no one was talking about going to bed anymore.

The Polaroid hung from my neck when she appeared under the threshold, barefoot and smiling, escorted by two men I didn’t know at all.

Camila wouldn’t meet my eyes from the far side of the pool. That night, when I went out to get some air among the orange trees, she followed me into the dark without me asking.

I thought the party was over when I closed the door. But she was still barefoot on my sofa, glass on her knee and another box in her hands.

We were alone in front of the mirror. I was fixing my lipstick; she was staring at me with an intensity that was no longer friendship. And then she came closer.

I agreed to dance at a bachelor party because I needed the money. What I didn’t expect was that four guys would offer me double for something more.

At three in the morning, two men knocked on the door. What neither of them knew was that Camila had been asking me for that night for weeks.

I thought it was a secret date with my girlfriend’s cousin. What I didn’t know was that the phone beside the bed was streaming everything live.

Lucía was the most proper girl in the school crowd. That night I saw her walk into the birthday party in a miniskirt and realized the Sunday-Mass girl was gone.

When my boss suggested we go up to his apartment to keep the party going, my wife hesitated. But curiosity and alcohol outweighed caution that night.

When she pointed me out in the sea of people, I knew that night was going to break something I’d spent years trying to keep intact.

Mateo nodded toward me and went upstairs. I followed without thinking, knowing his girlfriend was my best friend and that nothing could stop us anymore.

When she approached with a cigarette in hand and tattoos gleaming in the sun, I knew I’d answer her messages even with my husband sleeping beside me.

Carla went into the isolated festival bathroom desperate for a piss and ended up hypnotized by the pink pubic hair of the stranger peeing in front of her.

Lorena took off her pareo in front of everyone and chose me to count the thirty seconds. Meanwhile, my wife slept in the cabin, suspecting nothing.

We went up to her room with our hearts racing, knowing her parents were asleep on the other side of the hallway and that any noise could ruin everything.

When she got out of the car and every man in the ballroom turned his head, I understood that my wife wasn’t mine that night: she belonged to whoever dared look at her.

When she kissed me in front of the car, I knew it wasn’t the alcohol. It was everything she’d kept quiet for ten years finally spilling out of her mouth.

I went to the bar to forget what I saw, and woke up naked in the bed of the girl who had despised me most in class. That same morning I’d be getting three million.