Connie entered the room and our eyes locked almost instantly. She didn’t smile, or so much as change her expression in any way. We simply looked at each other for a drawn-out moment and I let her be the one to break away first when Aidan approached her. I downed the last of my drink and made to head for the door to the hallway, overwhelmed, suddenly, by the music and the heat and the drink, but Molly’s hand wrapped around my wrist.
“You alright?” she asked. I nodded, swallowing, but before I could reply something over my shoulder caught her eye. “Fuck,” she muttered, under her breath. “Not this again.”
“What?” I turned around to where she was facing to see Aidan leaning over Connie, his hand grasping at her upper arms. The room may have been loud but Molly and I stood in silence, ears straining to hear them.
“Upstairs,” he said, his words slightly slurred, “to talk.”
“No,” she responded, a little louder. “No.”
“We could go home, then. My parents are out, we’ll go back to mine—”